Got love

The twins are slowly discovering that they each are one of a set of two. They eyeball one another. Evan, the more timid younger one cries when Jordan stares him down. He also cries when, on pretext of fawning over him and cuddling him, Baby J gums him and slicks his hair back with her drool.



If you jack up the sound, you can hear him complain pitifully whilst everyone is laughing. But generally Baby J seems to know how to go to him more than he does to her. We think it's a boy girl thing. But even then, this poor boy will be bullied by all and sundry. Well, until we see fit, if we see fit, to give him a younger sibling to lord over. He's probably going to be like me, begging my mom to bring home a baby everytime she said she was going to hospital. Just so that I could bully someone for a change, rather than being bullied all the time.















Here's his 1 yr old cousin, Becca lording over him and crawling all over. What we didn't capture was how she, firstly, kept trying to hide his toys behind her leaving the poor boy, who has not yet developed a sense of object permanence, extremely puzzled. And secondly, had toddled up to him from the back and sank her chubby fingers into his thighs and gave his both thighs a good hard pinch, leaving his face frozen in an OMGWTF moment before it melted into a bloodcurdling scream of indignance, shock and pain. We've also learnt that with him, when he knows there're people around to cuddle and console him, there is this long silence after the initial scream where he musters all the breath his little lungs can inhale before letting out a second, much more shrill, much more offended, much louder and indignant wail.

All the while, his older by 2 minute sister sits by the wayside watching bemused. I wonder why Becca doesn't go after her.

Technorati Tags: babies, twins

Read More

Mother's pride

A strange thing to be proud of... Baby J pooped for the first time in the potty. :)

No poo pictures though.

Technorati Tags: babies, toilet training

Read More

The Breast Adventure

I've breastfed the twins fully for almost five months. Even though it's been mostly through the bottle, I do feel a little bit proud because it's been no mean feat to do that and still have surplus. It's been a love hate relationship because I get tired of my life dictated by my breast pump and boobs but I love the fact that the pregnancy weight plus some has just melted away somewhat effortlessly.

When I was pregnant, people scared me with stories about engorgement, bleeding and cracked nipples, nipple confusion and rejection, no milk etc. I didn't know if I was going to be able to breast feed, I didn't know if I was going to be strong enough to weather all the aforementioned problems and continue breastfeeding despite them all. At one point, I wasn't even going to buy a breast pump because I just didn't know. Thankfully, I was very blessed to not have had to go through all the above. Engorgement was minimal, probably due to the fact that I did have twins. There were times when I breastfed up to 16 times in the day so I think my mammaries really didn't have all that much time to fill up to the point of exploding on me. There were incidences of mastitis which required antibiotics but that was more the result of being surrounded by stupidity, where my breast pump got packed into moving boxes instead of being left out for me to use.

Anyway, having to produce milk for two, I have discovered, requires a great amount of discipline, a very thick skin and some creativity. I've had to express in some extremely bizarre places. Even when there were proper nursing/ family rooms, I've had to be very "un-shy" about it because I've had to share the rooms with other nursing/ expressing mothers. One ends up inadvertently making small talk to break the tension and the discomfort. But that's not the strangest.

When I went back to work, I would carry my backpack round the campus looking for an empty room, with a lock and no windows. It was an adrenaline filled hour long adventure everyday, driven by the fear that someone who bang on the door.

Then there was the attempt to keep up my milk flow while I ran off to Bali for the weekend. This required me to bring all my equipment and submit to a lot of questioning by customs officers who, even if their lives depended on it, couldn't identify what it was from the X ray machine. It was obviously much easier to explain to the Singapore side. On the Denpasar side, the same had to be done except in Bahasa, a language I have extremely limited, single word vocabulary. This meant a lot of gesturing, especially in the general vicinity of the boob. But I must say that the Balinese in general are a helpful bunch. The hotel accommodated my, what must have been quite out of the ordinary, request of borrowing their freezer space to freeze milk for the duration of my stay. This meant I appeared at the restaurant with a packet of milk every couple of hours. this meant I had my own container in the freezer with a fierce note on the top that said "Property Room 223. No Touch!" This adventure had to culminate with bringing breast milk home. This meant packets and packets of ice generously stuffed into a cooler bag and worrying that it wouldn't be cold enough. Thankfully, the milk stayed frozen and must have been ok because the offspring took it without any complaint.

But apparently, the most amusing of all was when I had no choice but to express while Packrat hurtled down the expressway to pick up my mother from the airport. On the one hand, I was somewhat embarrassed. On the other hand, I couldn't quite care less. The worst would have been a traffic cop pulling us over for my indecent behaviour but if he did that, I would point out it was only indecent if he had looked in and the car was my private space. Anyway, if he wanted to haul me into court, I'm sure the breastfeeding Nazis of Singapore would rise to defend my right to express in the car. They have to be useful for something. Even though, I suspect they might berate me for expressing rather than feeding direct.

So I guess if anyone blogged about seeing someone expressing in the car along the East Coast Parkway, I'm guilty as charged. But hey, my kids gotta eat.



Technorati Tags: babies, breastfeeding

Read More

Love... Much.

More indulgent photos and videos of Evan. :)

There's no sound to the video. Not because it recorded mute but because the boy was so caught upwith being suspended by the Jumperoo and that he could move around freely that he forgot he had a voice.



It's not rotated and I really need a better video camera.

The both of them have become much more aware of their surroundings in the last week and have realised that they actually have the ability to touch, bite, grab and possibly attack what they have. This has helped them physiologically and spatially. People often talk about it being such a milestone that their child can roll over, I think for me, it was more thrilling when they could grab stuff and play with it. The rolling over just looked like an accident the first time it happened, like at the end of Evan's little video clip of him complaining.

But when I see Evan grab his toy and refuse to let it go, gum all the bits of the toy, I get a little thrill.



He looks like he knows that I'm looking at him and he's got the "what's up?" look on his face and I love it.

I also love it when I watch him try to sit up. The problem with being the younger twin is that many around him, especially the older generation , tend to compare him with his sister. Even though J is smaller and lighter, developmentally, she's always been a little bit ahead which according to many is by simple virtue of her being a girl. Anyway, because of that, if I had 10 cents for everytime I heard "your sister was doing this last week, how come you're still not doing it?", I'd be able to afford my first Manolo Blahniks shoes and Tod's bag. I feel bad for him because he's already the youngest twin going to live in his sister's shadow, a really tiny one but a shadow nonetheless.

So this morning, I was extremely proud of the fact that while sitting up, I could let go of him and before tumbling over, he sat up for about 2 seconds. It's not much but it's a start. It also helped that his toys were out of reach so he's had to wriggle over with his butt stcking out in the air.



Sometimes, I get annoyed at Packrat because he gets to leave the house early in the morning and when he comes home, he plays with the kids a little bit and then goes off to do his own thing. It's not that he isn't involved or is a detached father. It's just that he still gets most of his life to himself and I feel guilty when I lock myself in my room to express, surf, take a nap or heaven forbid, read. Worse if I go out because I need to be home in 3 to 4 hours just so that my boobs don't explode on me. All this makes me growl and feel resentful at times, especially when I rationalise how ridiculous it is to feel guilty about locking myself in the room to express since it's technically baby work as well. Then I get resentful that even the times when I'm alone, I'm not doing things for myself. Then I think some more and my brain, along with my boobs feel like they're going to blow up. But then, when I see this sight in the mornings, when Packrat has time and gallantly takes the kid off my hands so that I can get that extra hour of sleep, I thank my stars and have an "awwwwww..." moment. I managed to snap this photo before falling back asleep and it was well worth the stagger out of bed to get the camera.



Hmm, now that I've spent all this time talking about Evan, I need to do the same for Jordan. This merry-go-round never ends.

Read More

Why is banana milk sold?

Me: I think I'll start the kids on bananas.
Packrat: The whole thing??
Me: No, just a bit. Mashed
Packrat: Isn't it going to be too thick?
Me: You mix milk into it.
Packrat: Banana milk?
Me: Effectively. (after a pause) Yueck!
Packrat: That's why they sell banana milk in the supermarkets. Mothers like you whip up these things and feed it to babies and when they grow up and see it on the shelves, they wonder why they're so attracted to it.
Me: Gross. But true. Our taste buds are wired up to our olfactory memory stores.
Packrat: Smart alec.



Technorati Tags: babies, semi-solids

Read More

Play time in the Tan household.

As a friend put it last week when she saw the kids, they're no longer small and squirmy. True they're not. They've become real little people with interest and awareness in the world around them. They still haven't quite figured out that they are one of two yet but they are getting there. They eyeball one another very suspiciously when they're in the cot together and they get the hands and feet tangled with one another.



Jordan has one arm wrapped round her chicken which I absolutely refuse to call Mr Cock and her other hand shoved into Evan's mouth. Evan doesn't seem to mind. All the more extremities to chomp on. They peacefully coexisted for about 5 minutes before they got bored and started bawling.

Jordan's attraction to Mr Rooster has to do with the orange plastic comb on his head that she likes to gnaw on and drool all over. As Freud would put it, they're in their oral phase now where everything is explored by being shoved into their mouths. Because of that, I've decided it is a worthwhile venture to spend some money on toys, especially since whatever toy I buy gets double the usage out of them. One of the things I bought was a teething ring that can be frozen.

Here's Evan patiently melting every single ice cube. What then happens is he often breaks into a delirious grin, his face being wet and his fingers and gums being icy cold. At the same time, he'll have a bit of a brain freeze look on his face. But it keeps him quiet for the duration of the ring staying frozen and anything that can do that isnot a bad idea.



Both kids also seem to enjoy being bounced about and being held in a manner that allows them to mimic walking although some part of me buys into the whole, "if you put them on their feet too early, they'll grow up with bow legs" thing. This prompted my sister in law to give us her bouncing Tigger which my niece had outgrown. We realised at this point that even though two kids could gestate in the same uterus for 37 weeks and have mostly the same DNA, they react differently to the same thing. Jordan screamed blue murder when put in it but Evan laughed and cackled and flailed his arms and legs around, extremey pleased with the uninhabited freed limbs and the mobility it comes with.

I thought it was apt that he was wearing a Tigger onesie today and was plenty amused that he looked as if he was using Tigger as a parachute. I don't usually buy into the whole Pooh or Humphrey the elephant stuff because it's just more expensive than regular stuff but I must say, this jumper made almost everyone's day. He even looks like he's chillin' out for a bit and enjoying the fact that he gets to be photographed beside "Girl Bondi ". I keep thinking Keanu Reeves going "Whoooaaa...Duuudddee" Mayhaps I'm raising a surfer boy, .




When Jordan was born, everyone remarked how thick and black her hair was. It's still thick and black. She is desperately in need of a hair trim being the sweaty girl that she is but Mommy is too chicken to wield a pair of scissors anywhere in her vicinity. A stop gap measure that we had fun with was to put hair clips in her hair. At least it kept her forehead from being slicked with sweaty hair and she looked quite the little impish pixie that she is.



I'd known even before I had her that having girls meant I would have a lot of fun buying clothes and playing dress up with her as evidenced by the hair clip even though it wasn't me that bought the clip. Every time I sort out their clothes, my helper reminds me to buy more skirts for Jordan. I haven't really bought all that many clothes for them because I'm living on hand me downs (Having twins does make one much more careful and think twice about buying a $40 skirt for an infant that would outgrow it in a matter of months). Because of that, I have only 2 skirts for Jordan-- both from her cousin. Then I unearth a shopping voucher that is about to expire and so I head down to Marks and Spencer's and decide to splurge and buy Baby J a skirt. This is what I ended up with.


I love the get up. It's very Anne Geddes. The problem is, the skirt is tiered so it's pretty heavy and slips onto her hips. It doesn't fall off only by grace of her diaper. I'm guessing the skirt's going to be kept till Chinese New Year. Hopefully then, she'll be able to wear it although one can't be sure. Especially now because she's decided she's on a milk and sleep strike. Try as you might, she refused to sleep for long periods today. She was also extremely reluctant to drink much milk. All she wanted to do was to talk 19 to a dozen in her "cat cawing at bird" voice. This inadvertently would wake Evan up and the two of them do their duet thing for the whole street to hear.

While all this is entertaining, their not sleeping much translates into a very exhausted mommy who walks around in a daze and is not able to find her car in the carpark among other things. I really need to sleep. Actually, they really need to sleep. And it's no use buying Baby Sleep guides because no one wants to carry out the routines. And it's irritating and frustrating but I'm too tired to fight it right now so I shall just enjoy the chatty nature of my children till I pass out.

Read More

More gruel please

One day, Baby J was watching me eat a cereal bar and started to chew her lip and look expectantly at me. Then, when I walked away to throw away the wrapper, she burst into tears. That was when I decided, my daughter was ready to enter into the world of real food. The operative term here is I decided. It wasn't like the time when against my will and was attempted surreptitiously, she was presented with papaya and ice cream as food choices for a 3 1/2 month old.

So enter into the mysterious world of baby food. There were so many to choose from and this was despite the fact that at 4 1/2 months, not much was available to them. We decided the first thing to try was rice cereal. And even then, it was between white and brown, organic and regular. Choices, choices.

Anyway, armed with a box of each, we decided that Baby J would have a go at it first. After all, she is older (albeit by 2 minutes) and she is better able to sit up compared to her brother. She seemed to have fun with it though there was the requisite mess that came along with it. At points, I wasn't shovlling fast enough for her little mouth and she would demand for more, reach herself forward to shorten the distance between her and the spoon.



Then we decided it was unfair to only feed her and deprive Evan of making a mess. Also, he was watching very forlornly from the wings. It should have occurred to us earlier that he was ready too since this was a bub who had no problems knocking back 170-180 ml of milk.

At first, the lazy boy wanted to be fed in a half reclined position but then realised he wasn't getting the food fast enough and willingly sat up after that. For him, the one scoop I made wasn't filling him so he grumbled while I made more and even then, the boy cleaned off the plate.



At the same time, I tried to trick him with the novelty of the spoon into drinking some water since he's decided water is public enemy Number 1. He did, until the taste of the cereal got washed out off his mouth and off the spoon. Then there was great indignance that I had attempted to trick him that way.

Next, I shall attempt mashed banana.

The only dark cloud is that, this, as with everything else about child rearing is subject to a great amount of interference and thinly veiled suggestions. There are 'suggestions' on what I should feed them, how I should feed them and when I should feed them. No one cares what I want to do. It's more important for them to see me listening to them. I wish I had the guts to defiantly look them in the eye and sing "This is the way I feed my kids, feed my kids feed my kids..." And I'm wise enough not to walk into the trap of saying "But that's what the book says". Like I whined to Tym and put on my Twitter- when they said it took a village to raise a child, they forgot to add that the village would add their two cents worth as well, whether or not it's been asked for.


Technorati Tags: babies, semi-solid food

Read More

Judge and be judged

-This post might sound extremely angst filled and pissy. It probably is but is not directed to anyone who is reading this-

Cognitive dissonance occurs when there is a pre-conceived notion of how something ought to be done and how it is actually done in actuality. This disparity creates a great amount of tension and often the tension is resolved by justifying why their way is right and why the way it has been done by others is wrong. This allows one to reconcile his own beliefs with what is going on in the world even if it means denial, paranoia or outright condemnation of others around them.

Every mother enters motherhood with a set of ideas and a belief system with which they will attempt to bring up their children with. They get these ideas from friends, books, the web and so on and so forth. But any woman who has already had a child would attest to the fact that more often than not, parenting books make one feel like a failure, the web has too much information that it often confuses rather than inform and friends, well, friends and family are often all too happy to offer advice on how the new mom should approach situations where she has had no prior experience in. Most of the time, this advice is well-meaning and well-intended. The problem however is this strange phenomenon where the advice spewing mother takes personal offence when the advice she so kindly provided is ignored. When this occurs, the new mother is judged.

And hell hath no fury than a mother whose advice is scorned.

It is something that puzzles me because it seems like these mothers forget that regardless of what they say and do, the one who deals with the fallout of either listening or not listening to them is the new mom. This has happened to me a great number of times in varying intensities.

Most recently, I have seen rather extreme reactions to what must have been seen as flagrant disobedience on my part.

I have been told that my going back to work full time will scar the children for life because I will, most definitely neglect them and leave them in the arms of strangers. This will inadvertently develop into future relationship issues between mother and children and should I want to avoid that, I should do as I am being told to, which is to stay pregnant and barefoot at home.

I have also been sternly told that going on holiday with my husband, without my children is a sin almost punishable by death because once again, it's neglect and reflects how selfish I am to put my own interest ahead of my children. I am just waiting for someone to tattle on me and tell child services.

Wanting to wean my children off the night feeds and train them to sleep through the night warrants the battle call for others to rise up in arms against my suggestion and hurl accusations of my wanting to starve my own children. It's brilliant how some minds work.

Last but definitely not the least is breastfeeding. First I get flak because I decided that I would give my babies one formula feed. I am warned that it is something I MUST NOT get addicted to (milk powder- the new heroin). Then I am tsk-ed at for not feeding direct because breast milk fresh from the source has much more nutrition than expressed milk. Then, when I whine in exhaustion about getting up in the middle of the night to express, I am chided for putting my beauty sleep ahead of my children's health. There's really no winning with the almighty mothers out there.

So what happens? The grand plans of being a mother in my own right seem to disappear. Others seem pleased that I [arent according to their rules. Am I happy? Of course not. Will I choose my own way eventually? Yes. Do I get angry? Must you ask?

It hasn't been long. I am sure those out there that cannot wait to contribute their two cents worth will continue to do so at any opportunity. They will also be as quick in condemning perceived disobedience. Through all this, one thing becomes blindingly clear. The main focus of the rapid fire judgements is not what it should be, that is the welfare of the child/children. Because, if it were, they would be able to discern between those who are really going to screw up their children and those who are trying their darndest to make the best out of a sometimes shitty situation. The main focus becomes cattle prodding the mother in the direction they so desire. Who cares about anything else really? Because at the end of the day, it is about how they were right and I/ we are wrong. At the end of the day, it's basically "Kids? What kids?"

Bah.

Read More

Baby J

--Updated videos... this time in the day, with a hint of a smile. :)--

Since Tummy time was pretty much about Evan, I figured it was time to do one about my other munchkin- Jordan.

Everyone agrees that Evan's the natural charmer with the easy grin and personality and Jordan's more intense, more sensitive and don't take shit from nobody. She also has the most powerful set of lungs I know to belong to any baby and she's not afraid to use them. But at the same time, she keeps you riveted with the deep dark soulful eyes and her pixie face.














She also constantly amazes us with what she can do. Her automatic ability engage the ninja grip on the bottle lest it escapes her. Although what she doesn't know is, it's really Mommy who's keeping the bottle in her mouth and if it does slip, it's all mommy's fault although she usually just acts blur and re-angles the teat back in.













Then there's her inordinate ability to chat 19 to a dozen, so loudly that it can be heard out on the road early in the morning by her Ah Gong as he sets off on his morning walk. She's got it all down. Tone, pitch, amusement, quizzical, cheeky... everything and managing to do this bright and chirpy at 6 in the morning when it's still dark out is beyond me. All she's short off are just these little things called syllables to make words.










And to entertain her, tissue paper works well. She has developed enough strength and coordination to grab, pull and wave tissue paper around. Next step, SHRED and then EAT!

















The girl sure knows how to keep her audience right where she wants them and one cannot deny that she has presence and knows exactly how to make her presence felt. And like her father says, it's okay that Evan's easy going and has the easy smile. But no daughter of his is going to be easy or have easy anything if he has anything to do with it. Time to buy the shotgun and gather the posse I say.

Technorati Tags: babies, 4 month old babies

Read More

Supermom

I'm posting this post on both blogs because this is one issue that concerns both facets of me.

The time has come for me to decide what I will do next year. It's been a very big struggle with a great amount of to-ing and fro-ing, trying to come to the ideal position. From the outset, even before I became a mother, I had already decided that the whole Stay At Home Mom schtick just wasn't for me. No offence meant to those who are Stay At Home Moms. I have utmost admiration for them. So with that option out the window, I had to figure out what I wanted to do and how I was going to do it.

There were parameters that had to be marked out first. And even that caused me grief. Do I work full time? Do I go part time? Do I stay at the same place? Do I move? Do I stay in teaching? Do I look for something totally different to do? Should I settle for less pay?

The last 4 months have been filled with frantic SMSes from my current boss trying to get a pulse on my intentions, me flipping through the Recruit segment every weekend lamenting the fact that I'm qualified as heck but trained for nothing. I applied for some jobs, interviewed for a couple and narrowed my options and was down to two. That's when it got tough.

It was between
a. part-time job that afforded a little bit more flexibility, was closer to home but meant I took a 1 grand pay cut and my career got put on hold.

b. a full-time job with a promotion that included a $500 pay raise, promising prospects, a challenge but would have meant longer hours, a half an hour drive one way, being the target for vicious politics and small mindedness.

I tried to figure out why it was so hard to come to a decision. At the end of the day, it boiled down to family vs career which should then make the decision an easy peasy one. It took me a while to figure out why I was reluctant to make the right decision.

All my life, I'd been taught to be independent, that my brains mattered, that I should always strive to do the best I could. If I stopped work, I'd be dependent on Packrat's state-controlled wage, my brains would be used for singing nursery rhymes and speaking in a most repetitive of manners and my job description was "mommy" and there were no promotional prospects. On top of that, there's that voice of my own father, booming in my head, reminding me like he did all those years ago that I was a. a girl and therefore did not need to be educated so much b. costing him a shit load of money to educate so I'd better not quit work once I had kids and c. to always look after myself financially and not depend on my husband.

On top of that is incongruity that exists in my head about how good I am at my job and how I am now deciding on whether to go part time and generally coasting, forsaking any opportunity I get to do well, get noticed and all those seemingly important things in life.

And.

If I chose to do that, there's further incongruity and dissonance seeing that I do want to be around for the kids. I am not about to become a mother who has the kids and fobs them off to someone else to care for them. On top of that, something deep inside me chides me for considering going back to work full-time especially when we waited so long for them and wanted them so much.

So this wrestling match has been going on, day in day out on the battlefield that is my head. Some days, I marvel at the fact that my brain doesn't blow up from all this stress because this is but one of the MANY things that my brain's wrestling with and stressing over.

At the end of the day, I decided I had to stop trying to be rational because I was going slightly stir crazy and just go with my gut. So far, my gut hasn't let me down and finally, yesterday, I gave in and decided based on instinct. It felt good to have finally made a decision but at the same time, I felt a little bit panicky because I had closed one door and behind that door was actually a possible solution to my current woes!

Anyhow, it's all said and done even though the paper work hasn't been submitted. Next year brings about different things and hopefully it won't be half bad.


Technorati Tags: babies, Back to work

Read More