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Not Etched in Stone

13 Jan

Two things I discovered with the new year. Discovery number one: life can go on without Candy Crush. It’s been close to two weeks that I have not played the game at all, can you believe it? And I have been going about life and routine without any hiccups. The candy withdrawal has subsided and I have coped well, especially with the discovery of Nora Roberts online to occupy my time. Proud to say I am maintaining my retired professional candy crusher status.

Discovery number two: life can go on without caffeine. Last week, I did a five day detox and diet program that had me off my coffee and tea, food and sugar. It was all fruits and water for the first two days, followed by fruits, water and some protein and fiber for the next two days and by the last day, a slow introduction of a little bit of carbs, more fruits, water and ending with more protein and fiber. All this while, no coffee or tea, no sugar and no carbs. The cleansing of the innards felt good, the tummy shrank, the need for food was manageable and the dependency on caffeine was overcomed! Proud to say I shed 3kgs.

So things that I thought are etched in stone all this while may not necessarily be so.

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It’s A Warzone Out There

22 Oct

I had to see an ENT to solve my sinus nasal congestion which had taken a turn for the worse. So here I am sitting in the doctor’s lounge while outside, along the corridor, it’s a warzone out there!

An elderly patient, waiting his turn, is talking loudly on his mobile and his booming voice is echoed so loudly in the cold quiet corridor! Perhaps he is also waiting to see my ENT specialist, hard of hearing, he does not realize how loud he is.

This may not be a patient ward level but still, it’s a hospital and everyone should be more considerate for others!

Then there’s this lady sitting in the waiting room with me and her phone goes ‘You have a new WhatsApp message!’ letting the whole world know she’s connected. Attending to her alert, the furious tapping by her is so obvious with the loud clicking sound. My goodness, please put it on silent mode!!!

Even in my hard of hearing state, the noise is most irritating.

I await my turn shortly. WhatsApp Lady has toned down her volume but I can still hear water bubble effect sounds, probably crushing candies. Warzone Uncle has also finished his conversation.

Phew.

I glanced over at WhatsApp Lady; she’s not crushing candies, her reactions are way too slow!

Ah… my turn.

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Ten White, Twenty Black

17 Oct

Whenever I look into the mirror and spot a white hair, horror would fill me and I’d get one of the girls to pull it out if I can’t reach it myself. Vain, silly or otherwise, one just cannot have a white strand sticking out, shouting to the world to be seen.

Just back from my recent holiday, I decided to do an overhaul — starting with the face with a facial, the body with a massage and the hair with an inventory check on black versus white. As it was a public holiday, it was perfect to get these done.

The going rate is ten cents per white hair but a penalty of twenty cents is incurred for them to pay back if a black hair was accidentally pulled out instead.

M1 is usually more obliging for this task and makes about two to three bucks from the hubby, and about one to two from me. However, whenever I am under duress from some super duper stressful project at the studio, three bucks is easily made. M2 would add salt to the wound by stating, “Mummy, you’re old.”

Coincidentally, I just concluded one half of a very stressful project prior to the trip to Bali.

And the evidence was evident.

“I found the loot!” M2, who was available and obliging, proclaimed. Ooh… That hurts. “How many?” I cringed.

“I’d say 30 but I’d just do 25 then I’m going to bed!” Well, I can’t argue with that.

M1 who just came out of the bathroom, giggled and rubbed it in, “Nah! I think there’s 40!” Hrmph.

“Argh! This one’s a scam! Half black, half white. Does it count?” The ever dramatic M2 asked then decided, “I think no. Okay, back to 23. Right, mummy… 23?”

Sigh, the perils of a stressful creative designer’s life.

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The Sick Bay

4 Oct

Mummy and Daddy’s room is also known as ‘The Sick Bay’ whenever one child or the other is sick and needs care around the clock especially at night. When this happens, not just a mattress is set up for the sick one, several plush toys come along too to accompany the patient for security and comfort and the floor becomes an obstacle course to navigate through. Thankfully as the girls are older now with their immunity stronger and better against those meany germs, the sick bay setup has lessen.

But a sick bay it is not, when daddy goes away, and the room becomes a sleepover pajama party haunt instead. And yes, the plushies still come but not so many. Sometimes, it is nice to have these bonding moments with the girls and thoroughly cherish it while they still want to do it!

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Too Much, Too Little

21 Aug

It was a clear case of too much, too little of everything that had M3 zonked out by 10pm last night.

From her arrival to our country, to the school for activities, to our home and doing more stuff, there was hardly time to rest. Coupled with an unfortunate sleepless night, no thanks to our mosquitoes, M3 was so exhausted to the point of being nauseous.

Earlier yesterday I commented to hubby on how I wish I had her energy when I travel. “We were only young once,” sighed hubby dearest. Indeed. But even then with M3’s youthfulness and exuberance, exhaustion got the better of her.

This morning, after the triple assault on the army of mosquitoes, I am glad to say she was well rested and back to her bubbly self and ready for another adventurous day ahead!

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New Blood

20 Aug

Our house guest’s name also starts with an ‘M’, so I shall call her M3. M3 comes from Fukuoka and shared with us, last night, an interesting video about the prefecture besides showering the family with gifts. Very thoughtful and polite. Both M1 and M2 were pleasantly surprised and delighted with their unexpected presents.

M3 was to sleep in the guest room and although the room was prepared for her, the mosquitoes had other plans! The new blood was a feast for the darn mozzies! A new flavor, a young delicacy unlike grandma (who uses the room whenever she sleeps over) and her old blood, poor M3 had another taste of our country. But I must say this is not the usual environment.

Tonight we shall make further reinforcements to prevent another uncomfortable experience for her.

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Let It Breathe

15 Aug

I used to tell the girls that whenever they have an injury, cut or abrasion, they should not have a plaster covering it overnight suffocating the rejuvenating skin cells. “Let it breathe,” is what I normally advised. I think it’s just logical to allow the skin to breathe as the body is resting (sleeping) and therefore the injury should not be covered.

Recently, I had a horrible case of one gigantic acne just at the right side of my face, near the ear. For some unspoken reason, I needed a plaster and asked for a small round plaster from M2, who is currently obsessed with plasters and has the whole box next to her bedside.

“Let it breathe, mummy,” she told me, giving me back my dose of advice!

I guess what goes around, comes around!

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Should I Be Worried?

24 Jul

I came home from my museum exploration to a barrage of messages from M2 on the iPad Mini. As today I was on the move a lot, there was hardly time to get connected at free wifi spots.

She messaged to tell me she is more sick than last week and requested permission to be excused from her tuition class this evening and would like to skip school tomorrow too. Hmm.

Should I be worried?

However, by the time I replied, she’d gone to bed already, with the 6 hours time difference. I suppose it’s serious and she’s frantic as her messages were typed in all caps and my name in caps three times. Even M1 texted me via Viber!

I better try to catch them when they are getting ready for school the next day to assess the situation. Maybe an SOS call is needed to Grandma… We shall see.

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Let’s Climb a Tree

19 Jul

We have a lovely but skinny Frangipani tree at our back garden. One day the girls declared, “We wanna climb a tree!” And so the hubby indulged them as I watch their monkey acts from inside the living room.

Climb a tree? Hah! How sad my girls don’t know what climbing a real tree is all about as their antics brought back memories of me and my tree.

I grew up in a big house with an equally big garden. And there were trees, lots of trees. Thirty six of them. Sometimes, somethings in life you remember forever and this is one of them.

I remember going through a phase and would be counting every single tree in the compound, playing authority with a clipboard and going around the compound doing a census on trees. I don’t know why I did that but I was obsessed with it, doing it every evening. And of course, the result showed 36 matured trees. My mother loved her garden, full of flowers, plants and trees.

And I loved my tree. My tree was special; it was a matured mango tree and had sturdy branches snaking out as if it was creating a nest with spread out fingers. I would climb my tree every afternoon and sit there to daydream. The branches were so thick that I could lie down anywhere I fancy and stare at the leaves or beyond. One day while staring, I discovered caterpillars! Here, there, everywhere. Eeuuww. I stopped hanging out on my tree after that.

But the fact remains, today’s children hardly has the opportunity to experience what we experienced. Climbing trees and catching little fishes from the drain (as what the hubbby used to do) are deemed activities of the dinosaur era, for people like myself and the hubby. We may have one tree for the girls to attempt now but sadly our drains are all covered up. Development and time plus technology has rendered many classics to be obsolete today.

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Bury the Bee, Part 2

8 Jul

It is now evident that the colony of bees have been disturbed. More came our way last week after the first incident, invading the kitchen and the girls’ bedroom.

I had an SOS call from M2 reporting this and more. “Mummy! They are everywhere! Rooney’s in his cage and fine but… OMG! One’s on my bed, like a zombie, writhing away!”

“Zombie? Or more like zombie bee?” I couldn’t help myself.

“Zombie, zom-bee, zombie-nee, whatever! Hurry home please,” she urged in between muffled laughter.

So we came home from work to stories of the bees’ invasion and both having to shower in my bathroom instead. We were to have a mass burial last Wednesday night, for the scattered little bodies here and there (in their attempt to fly out to freedom) but homework got in the way.

And for the past few nights, circumstances were not favorable, burial plans were dashed yet again. And last I checked, the maid just simply got rid of all of them. So the pet cemetery is left intact without a crowd arising from this latest little unfortunate aftermath.

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