School's Out

The recent conversations about the kids have revolved around how fast they are growing. They’re now clambering all over the place, getting into all sorts of high jinks, trying to walk even though they sway like trees in the wind. Well, you can’t quite fault them from trying. Anyway, the both of them, especially Evan, have got 2 modes. Sleeping and Up And About- walking, crawling. There is no in between. No sitting still.

The result of that is that I have very exhausted caregivers. When I’m home with them the whole day, I feel like I need a vacation away from them, just so that I can sleep and recover. My mother-in-law often wonders out loud where their little bodies store SO much energy while we adults are drooping in exhaustion and aching from bending over to hold their arms as they toddle about. This has led to Packrat and I discussing the possibility of dumping them in playschool for a couple of mornings a week next year. It’s not so much that we feel like they need to get ahead or are losing out if they don’t. It’s more, so that we get them out of the house and everyone can breathe easy for a little while. I do hesitate though. I know that’s where they get all sorts of strange germs from. And the current outbreak of Hand Foot and Mouth doesn’t make me feel any more assured. I’ve also been told that they don’t really need that sort of opportunity to socialize since there are the two of them. But I’ve also been told that twins can be rather insular, having a playmate in their sibling and therefore not seeing the need to expand their socialization skills beyond the other twin. I’ve also heard and read about how they can often develop their own language. No doubt, the Nazis in my life will harp on the fact that it’s a waste of money, I can take them to the park, I can just let them hang out with their cousins and it’s all a scam to swindle gullible mothers like me. Well, to them, I say, you try managing two squirmy toddlers-to-be day in day out and see if you want to throw money at someone to do it for you.

Of course, the money part is where it gets sensitive. Everyone’s so thrilled about us having twins. Truth be told, I love the fact that I have the both of them and I cannot imagine just having only one of them at a time. But the reality is that they are extremely expensive. I work through diapers twice as fast and I’m resisting weaning them off breast milk because of the amount of money I save from not needing to buy them a tin of formula every week. And sending them to school, at the same time will be expensive even if I get some sort of discount. To make matters worse, it seems like the younger you fob your kids off, the more they charge you. My brother is not the only person that’s breathed a sigh of relief when his children hit the age where they could get into primary school. So, play school is expensive. Sometimes inhibitively so. I found one play school, a Montesorri no less, that was charging TWO THOUSAND bucks per term.

There was absolutely no way I was going to send the twins there. Not only could I not afford it. I was not sending my kids somewhere which had, as their mission or whatever, ‘they start as privates and leave generals’. It’s the epitome of taking themselves far too seriously and I’m not all that serious. I remark to Ru about the exorbitant fees here and her response is that it’s worse in the UK where she is. 2 grand is chopped liver there. That’s when my world starts spinning and I wonder about the wisdom of all this.

There is also the other issue of how playschools have wait lists that you absolutely have to be on the minute the tykes are conceived. I’m apparently a bit late in putting my children on the wait list for a church kinder near home. I'm told for pre-nursery, I will be No. 67 on the wait list for the morning session if I put them on, TODAY and No. 33 on the afternoon session wait list. Incredible. And not in a good way.

So, obediently, I shall put them on the wait list and pray that by 2010, 66 people have dropped out. Even I don’t plan so far ahead of time.

Technorati Tags: babies, playschool education

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Bees bees everywhere

Half way through dinner last night, I realised that Jordan had what looked like bites on her arm. On closer inspection, I realised that they weren't mosquito bites but something worse. It was all over her arm. And when I flipped up her t-shirt, I realised that entire back was welted and red and swollen. It looked like a pink patchwork of mosquito bites.

My heart stopped when I saw that. I knew what hives were. I knew they were a reaction to something she had ingested. I knew it could get worse in moments. Of course, I had to contend with remarks like "oh, maybe it's just a lot of mosquito bites", "maybe it's Hand Foot and Mouth!" to "Maybe she's just hot!" while I tried to figure out whether to wait for the paediatrician to open or to rush her to the ER. Honestly, if I wasn't so pre-occupied with trying to figure out how to get Jordan to help before the reaction became more serious, I would have hit someone.

A phone call to my brother determined my plan of action. He'd worked in Paeds emergency before so he knew exactly what to do. I'm also thankful that he's got the most calm and bo chap voice in the world because there's nothing worse for a mother to hear anxiety in a physician's voice. He confirmed what I thought. Hives. He confirmed the need to go to the ER. So, armed with that, we bundled her off to the ER.

Of course, the girl couldn't care less that she had a flustered, fluttering mommy around her. She was just happy to have broken out of routine, her dinner being forgotten and left on the table and her being able to go out with mommy. Thankfully also, the wait in the ER was short and the doctor gave me instructions on how to treat the hives while I wrestled with a little squirmy worm who wanted to yank and pull at all the wires and stick her fingers in electric points.

Being in an ER is frightening because you are confronted with all the things that could possibly happen to all your children. The boy who's entire hand, especially his thumb, was bandaged, the girl who was doubled over in pain and crying, another boy who was on a gurney, half conscious and being rushed somewhere... Not. Funny.

I am thankful Baby J went home with me and her hives settled through the night even though we still have to watch out for it flaring up again. I am once again amazed at how mommies don't drive themselves crazy with worry about all the things that happen and can happen to their children. For me, it's double the worry. But like Packrat constantly reminds me, that's why we need faith. That's why we commit our children to God. That's why we need to realise that it's an endeavour larger than us and that a Higher Being is in control. That's why we pray.

Technorati Tags: babies, allergies, hives

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Children at play

Packrat's been wanting to try the new McGriddle for sometime. So we decided yesterday to go out for an extremely early 6 am breakfast before sending him to work. Because Baby J was with us, she got to come too. I didn't bother to take her out of her PJs so the little munchkin went to Macs in her PJs and seemed fine with it. She had loads of fun, being in a different high chair, playing with straws and shredding serviettes to her heart's content. On top of her cereal, which I packed along, she had bits of egg yolk from my muffin and some of the muffin bread. Of course, Mommy felt bad for giving her the muffin because she seemed so thirsty after that. This is her first time at Macs. Evan went to Macs when he was a wee baby but he spent most of it asleep in the sarong sling.





























This is him now. About 6 1/2 months later. We've discovered that Evan is the quintessential boy, loving anything to do with balls and wheels on it. He laughs hysterically when you throw a ball up in the air or bounce it all around. He also likes going after toy cars or trucks; he'd crawl after them or use them to support himself as he struggles to toddles around. He's got 2 or 3 modes, that boy. Either he's sleeping or he's standing and wanting to walk or crawl. There's nothing in between. Sitting is the transitory stage between lying down and standing up. Lying down is the transitory stage between sleeping and being awake. In his world, it's pretty much, why waste time? I have places to go and things to see.

Anyway, since these were shots of my kids at play, I decided to use this opportunity to introduce their playmate and cousin, Becca. She's 9 months older than the twins. I remember this because, she was born the day I found out that I was pregnant with the twins. Anyway, whenever we're at my mom's, Jordan follows her around like a little puppy dog and she, to get as much attention as her younger cousins get, will revert back to crawling around even though she's quite stable on her stubby little legs. Here, to get here out of everyone's way as we load up the car, I plonk her in the boot where she happily sat and watched the bustle around her, adding her continuous stream of consciousness baby babble that is interspersed with the occasional real word like ' why?' 'Byebye!' "Mame' etc. She's the funniest baby I know, muttering non-stop, pretending to hold conversations in all seriousness, aping all those around her. I hope Baby J grows up to be like her and Evan to be like Becca's sweet older brother .


Technorati Tags: babies, Macs, at play

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Babies are more expensive now

I put this on my main blog but it makes sense here too so here it is.

I was sent to the supermarket last night to buy rice for my children. My children eat a fistful of rice everyday so the last time I bought rice for them, I think they hadn't sprouted teeth yet. Anyway, they eat brown rice and when I approached the rice aisle at the supermarket, I was taken aback at how much it looked like a Russian supermarket during the Soviet era. Our supermarkets are the crown jewel of the wealth of choice in our capitalist societies. Except for rice. Because of the fears of rice going beyond $700 a tonne, people hoard them. As a result, the shelves are empty and even the brown calrose rice that I feed my kids is affected. One, the one that I usually buy was out of stock. Two, the one that I bought cost more than I remembered the previous one to be. Three, there were only two packets left. But like I say, because the kids eat so little, I didn't see the need to indulge my inner Kiasu-ness and buy all to keep.

But I am annoyed. I am annoyed that everything is more expensive. Juice that used to cost $3.90 on offer is now $4.20 on offer. The kids' diapers cost more too. I know everyone's complaining about it and it's all around but the message gets driven home in the smallest of ways.

Now, not only do I have to watch the number of times I drink iced tea and eat my favourite cranberry muffins from Coffee Bean (which have increased by 50 cents)- these are admittedly flighty things, I have to worry about how my dollar has to stretch far enough to clothe the bums of the kids and feed them (formula is DAMN expensive and people ask why I am reluctant to wean).

So, when we left the supermarket and drove off and I realised we didn't claim the parking that we could, I was inexplicably pissed off. It was just a dollar but I'm beginning to realise that a dollar is still a dollar and even though it might buy less, it still contributes to buying somethings...like 2.5 diapers.

But some people will say that we can buy home brand items and still eat cake. And that's when the pitchforks or in our case parangs come a brandishing and a revolution shall be on the way.


Technorati Tags: Singapore, babies, rising costs

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What's in a name?

A visit to my doctor brought up the discussion of birth control among other things. There were different options and I needed to pick one or the possibility of us ending up with an accident was not going to be all that much of a surprise. Apparently, even though we've had problems before, it doesn't necessarily mean that the status quo has prevailed.

Anyway, that caused us to discuss names seeing that the last time we needed names, it created some amount of strife and since we only really decided on Jordan's name when she was 2 days old, it wasn't too early to start tossing ideas around.

So the following conversation ensued...
Me: I like the name Olivia. It's pretty and we can call her Ollie for short.
Packrat: No. I worked with someone called Ollie and he was obnoxious.
Me: But if we named No 3 Olivia, we'd have J(ordan), O(livia) and E(van). We'd have JOE Tan.
Even though it was dark and Packrat was driving, I could feel him roll his eyes in exasperation.
Packrat: We should name No. 3 Newt so that we could get J(ordan)E(van)N(ewt) Tan. JEN Tan.
Me: NO! Newts are amphibians wiggly creatures that give me the heebie jeebies.
Packrat: Hey, long time ago, humans used to ONLY drink water that newts lived in.
Me: I don't care how useful they were. No child of ours will be named after a reptile. Anyway, you have far too much useless information stored in that brain of yours. What about Nicole, Nicholas (though I really don't like Nicholas)?
Packrat: Newt Tan... (testing it out and pissing me off) Sounds good.
Me: ...Mutter mutter...

So even though No. 3 is not really a formulated thought yet, we're already fighting about the name. Apparently all the Prolactin in my body is making me broody still. But thankfully, I have 2 very real reality checks that make me broody but not broody enough to throw all caution to the wind. One of who sank his five teeth into me earlier on today.

I think the conversation we should be having rather than fight over the name of an imaginary child is what type of birth control will suit our needs. But that's just boring.

Technorati Tags: babies, names, birth control

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Water babies

When I first had the babies and had no idea what to do with them because they were so alien to me and were irrationally hard to understand, someone told me it gets better. Especially when you can play with them. I didn't believe the people who told me that and I often wailed to my mother "You promised this was going to get easier!" My mother would just smile this sage-zen like smile and told me to be patient.

I don't think I'm totally there yet but I do have a lot more fun with them than when they were tiny and squirmy. Now, they're bigger and squirmy but can cackle and laugh and show that they're enjoying themselves. So much so that I hate that my job takes me away from them even in the after hours, even during the holidays. Yesterday, I felt like a child left at home while everyone went out to play because I hadn't finished my homework. I really hadn't. I still had papers to grade and the twins were going swimming with their grandparents and I couldn't go because the papers were due back by Monday. So, I stood there while they drove off feeling really crappy and dissolving into a puddle of tears when the car drove off with my babies. Packrat promised that we would take them swimming today but I wailed about how I wasn't going to be there to watch my kids have fun. It did incentivise me to get through my grading so that I could at least spend some part of my weekend enjoying my children.

Which I finally managed to do this evening. I thought it would be like the last time I wanted to take them swimming where it literally rained on my parade and once again causing me to dissolve into a puddle of tears. But it didn't. And we finally managed to get into the pool quite uneventfully this time.
The twins have begun to enjoy the water much more than they used to, especially Evan, even though he did drink a gallon of water and kept falling face first into the water. They had floaty ring things which gave them the freedom to chase all the bubbles that were erupting on the surface of the water. The two of them had a grand time doing that and protested all the way to the showers.

















































Evan looking extremely thrilled with the bubbles that he could catch and all the water he could splash at everyone including himself and Jordan having what reminds me of Spaceman Spiff hair


This also meant that they were exhausted very early into the evening and like the last time, proceeded to pass out almost immediately after dinner. I like tired, happy babies. They go to bed without much of a fuss and don't complain when you move them from bed to car and from car back to bed.

Tomorrow's Monday again and it's back to the grind again. I do harbour a teeny bit of hope that I can make things better for myself at work. But we'll see about that.

Incidentally, if it reads as if I cry a lot now, I do. I can't help it. I'm constantly overwhelmed and on edge so it doesn't take much to trigger the water works. My only consolation is that my children still cry more than I do but it's a heck of a comparison since they are pre-verbal and their primary means of communication is to cry and I have words. Although words really don't come easy sometimes and all the other times, there just aren't enough words to describe what's bubbling inside and I'm not saying this in a mushy, romantic way.


Technorati Tags: babies, working mom, swimming

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Death and Taxes

I just filed my taxes for 2007 and for the first time, I couldn't just hit the submit button because I had one of those auto-inclusive employers. This time, I had to file as a working mother. I had to claim relief for having had two children. I had to claim the levy off Aunty D and I had to apply for some Parenthood rebate. All of which were foreign to me until about 20 minutes ago when I decided I wasn't going to get thrown into jail because I forgot to file my taxes.

And the exercise made me want to throw everything up in the air and yell "screw it!" and run away in fear. It's complicated, it's not intuitive and let me just say, the damn user guide is just so unfriendly .

Anyway, I think and I hope I got it done correctly because if they throw me in jail for not properly declaring my income I will just throw a girly fit and start pulling hair (not my own). Because seriously, it won't be my fault. And in the era of Big Brotherment in Singapore, why do I need to fill in all these details when they already have it on file in some big storage warehouse in some island off the west of Singapore. When we applied for a discounted rate for the maid levy because of the children, we were very curtly told that we hadn't read the instructions in the manual; that we didn't need to apply manually because the 'database' they had on me already reflected the two munchkins. So I don't see why IRAS couldn't just get the information from the same Orwellian database.

Well, I'm off to bed having had to deal with the taxman and having developed a headache from it.


Technorati Tags: babies, taxes, working mother

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