Hyperdrive

OK, my boobs have definitely gone into hyperdrive. Over the last few days, I kept getting the feeling that K was not getting enough to feed and so was pumping like crazy, each time trying to top the previous pump. Now, mi boobsies are filling up every two hours, keeping me from having restful sleep.  What a night – nose dripping, boobs hyper-driving themselves, K giving false-stirs every two hours, triggering unbreakable chains of letdowns in self-hyper-driving boobs. Renewable energy experts, go figure.

We’ve been Mycoplasma-ed!

Egads and triple egads! B has a mycoplasma infection and is diagnosed with bronchitis. We are told we have to rent the nebuliser for 5 days and administer it 4 times a day! I feel so mad with myself for not bringing her to see the doctor earlier. Dem, I should always, always trust the ‘mother’s instinct’. My spidey senses started tingling about 3 weeks ago!

She’s an angel, she is. She puts on the nebuliser mask without a fuss and even blows kisses through all the aerated salbutamol steam. TJ tells her she is a pretend fighter jet pilot. She gives a blank look and later, TJ shows her a picture of a jet pilot on the internet. The image is of a man in black helmet, a colour she doesn’t like. Being a girly – girl, she rolls her eyes and vehemently objects to being a fighter jet pilot.

So, I tell her she is Darth Vader. She seems to accept her new pretend role. She is still too young for Star Wars and is not acquainted with Darth Vader yet. I can already see her giving me her sweetest smile the next time she puts on that dreadful nebuliser mask and I’m sure I will get another flying kiss from my brave little Princess Anakin.

   

Heart Installation

I come out of the shower to find the whole apartment peppered with hearts. B has tagged the bed, table, chest of drawers, floor, wall, door, piano with heart-shaped post-it notes. I quickly grab the camera – B has put up an impromptu art installation. The pattern is spontaneous and organic; as natural as say the skeletal patterns on a leaf or stain marks left by rain on a monsoon drain. Wabi-sabi, as I know it.

“It’s a pretend Valentine’s Day,” she says. I interview her on our digicam, “What does Valentine Day mean?” 

“It’s a special day, that’s why we are putting up lots of hearts,” she quips and then runs off tagging more stuff, leaving a trail of hearts on the floor.

She circles back, “Valentine’s Day means it’s a happy day!” 

Gleefully, she tags a heart on my back, and runs off again.

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Dawn Rain

The thing about night feeds is – after turning on the steriliser, warming up the refrigerated milk, doing the bottle feed, burping, changing nappy, burping again, expressing milk, and changing your own jammies which is soaked right through from leaky milk  ducts – you can’t bloody go back to bed!

It’s a great night or should I say, morning. Light rain, really cool breeze. Hmm -hmm. Even the 20-storey crane in front of my window doesn’t impose. Kinda reminds me of a leaning Eiffel Tower.

All is quiet. A car tyre squishing a puddle of rainwater. TJ’s snore. K farts.

The Blue Dog

Phew. Both kids in bed. B puked all over the bed. We have to do something about that cough. It’s been nearly a month. The whole family is sputtering away, except for K. The antibodies from my milk must be working, fingers crossed.

K wanted a suckle before his long sleep. He is beginning to sleep through the night. Hooray!

TJ is reviewing a student’s paper in the dark. He says the light is too bright for K. TJ does the night shifts. I wonder how I was able to do the nightshift when B was an infant, and how I have become such a lightweight. TJ is truly a hero.

I should go to bed; the clock starts ticking for me after each feed. At night, I allow myself 5 hours of sleep before expressing the milk. The last two nights I was bad – I had 6 hours. I don’t nurse K in the nights. He still nurses poorly.

It’s nearly midnight. The Blue Dog watches over us.

The Singapore Winter

A fairly grey Tuesday morning. A passing shower and then a nice cool breeze. I love the November and December months in Singapore. It makes the weather bearable and this is the only time of the year where I am fully happy, about living in Singapore. I have only two gripes about Singapore – the lack of space and the weather. Well, maybe, three – the conservative heartland mentality. And, er, a fourth – an education system that refuses to correct the indigenous cultural over-emphasis on grades over learning.

We are waiting for 8.15am for me to take B to school. I think I will leave K at home as the rain might come again.

Marshmallows and Jelly

The silence is sublime. B is downstairs with M. It’s her daily 5 o’clock playground workout. She is bringing down marshmallows for her friends today. I tell her jelly is not good as the cold temperature is bad for her cough. The truth is I don’t ever expect her to listen to what I have to say, especially when it comes to restricting pleasure. Strangely, she does, looking to me as absolute authority. I hope I don’t ever abuse the trust that she places on me. 

I love that I am writing again. I feel so centred. I wonder why I stopped doing this for so long. Why is it so hard to do something that is so right and so good for yourself?

K is still asleep.

Puffy Eyes

I still see your puffy eyes. I don’t want to see your puffy eyes.
I just want to see you.