Taking inspiration from Milla's fantabulous Mum, I bought Sash some finger paints and finger paint paper from the nearby ToysRUs (4 blocks away, which may seem uber convenient now but will be hell when Sash realises what endless possibilities it holds). Set them out on the patio table, took a garbage bag, cut out a semi-circle for Sasha's head, then cut out armholes very carefully as she was by then wearing the makeshift artists smock. Started out fine. Mummy showed her what to do, making nice patterns with different colours. We laughed, we chortled. She smushed some about, decided she didnt like having dirty fingers and insisted Mummy lick her fingers clean, as Mummy does when Mummy is too lazy to get a cloth during mealtimes. Mummy refused. She insisted. She decided to do it herself. Mummy had no problems with that as Crayola seemed a reliable company that would not sell kids toxic paint..but wait, wasn't Mattel? Sash quickly decided paint in no way tasted like cheese. Tried to wipe paint off on Mummy. Sweet fingerpainting session scene immediately degenerated to Mummy running away from baby screaming "nooooooo" scene. So much for that...

Amsterdam, May 2007

Some of my favourite pictures taken over the Summer

Sasha enjoying the water
Sasha picking wild blueberries on Blueberry Island
Sasha taking a break
Sasha and Dad on the deck
Sasha and Dad tubing

Skating on ice

Hiking in Big Sky, Montana. June 2007


I may have mentioned this, but D started skating as soon as he could walk. Up until his second year in University, he skated every day during the season and trained for his speed skating during the Summer. I on the other hand have never set foot in a pair of ice skates. Last Friday, we took Sasha out on the ice for the first time. We walked for 20 minutes to the nearby arena. The skates were rented and she did not have a helmet. Her Daddy laced her up and took her out on the ice. I cannot say that she loved it, I can say she did not wail like a banshee and seemed interested in what the older figure skaters were doing. They glided for about 10 minutes. There is hope. We are now planning to sign her up for lessons in January...our only problem is finding skates that fit her and more importantly a helmet that will properly protect her noggin without making her look too much like a dork. D is also thinking of getting her into organised sports like ice hockey. I would like my daughter to have her own teeth so we are limiting her skate time to figure skating. I have visions of travelling with her all over the world competing..most likely she will have a melt down during her first lesson and we will have a bunch a baby skating equipment to off load. I remember my "challenging" childhood with my piano, guitar, violin, tae kwando, and ballet lessons. Hated them, still can't for the life of me do a split, kick anyone's behind or strum a chord..but by golly I had the equipment..what comes around goes around eh?

D and I bought ourselves some skates. We believe in guiding Sasha by example. Now if only I could wear diapers to protect my behind as I imagine I will be hitting the ice many, many times.

Time out

Sash has been her usual precocious self today. I am usually able to tolerate her flinging her yogurt laden spoon across the floor for the umpteenth time most mornings. Today however she did it over and over again as she looked directly into my eyes...with a little grin. Made me think I should have named her Damien. I initiated her first time out. As I growled "Do not throw!", I took her out of her high chair and placed her in the corner. She stayed, looked down and played with her belly button. As I moved to clean the mess up, she ran after me. I stood up, pointed to the corner and said "Stay"..she laughed, ran back and stayed..for a while. Then she realised she could sit down and play with the carpet....and then run up to me again. I placed her in her time out corner again. She ran back, I placed her again. She realised it could be turned into a game and rather enjoyed being carried. After half an hour I reminded her yet again that she should not throw things, made myself a cup of coffee and ignored her while I drank it. Why oh why did I ever give up smoking....

Settled in at last...

It has been quite a while since I last updated this blog. Bad girl, bad girl. I have received kind requests, stern reprimands, and demands to update my blog. So here goes..

Lets see, since last May I have:

Moved from Troy
The move was rather bittersweet. I was excited about moving to a different country, to a larger city, to our new house, and to seek out endless opportunities. I was very very sad about leaving our neighbours. Before we left, they had organised a surprise farewell, which touched us rather deeply as it took quite a bit of effort. The days leading up to the move, packing and getting movers organised were hectic yet we found a haven of hospitality during the evenings at their house. We stayed there the night after all our goods were shipped of to Canada, the day before we were to sign the contracts to sell our first ever home together. We left Troy and drove to the border to "enter" Canada immediately after the closing. It was a tearful goodbye.

Set up base in Winnipeg
We had six weeks before we were to take possession of our new home in Toronto so we moved in with my father-in-law. We spent more time at the lake than we have ever before. Canadians are obsessed about their cottages, which are usually situated on a lake. Come Summer, everyone is "at the cottage". Those who do not have family or friends with cottages rent. Others dream of owning one. Something I never fully understood or appreciated until I saw how much Sasha loved the outdoors, very much taking to the lake country life. She went tubing (very much like water skiing but a huge inflatable tire is dragged behind a boat...being only 15 months she went tubing on her Daddy's lap, she swam, she climbed on rocks, she very much explored every nook and cranny of that island. I suspect I am going to be stuck in the wilds most Summers from now on.


Attended a conference in Warwick University
I was last at Warwick for my LLM graduation. That was more than 10 years ago. It was surreal going back this time with D by my side (Sasha was left at the lake...I tell you, wild horses could not have dragged her away), pointing out the various bars and halls of residences I used to hang out/get absolutely hammered in. The Union had inflated to ten times its original size. It had an amazing supermarket, some cool cafes and even a hairdressers. The trees had grown and new, shiny buildings erected. My old stomping grounds changed beyond recognition. Sad.

Back to the lake
Sasha seemed interested in her cousins water skiing. We will try and teach her to swim and water ski next year I think..



Move to Toronto
We flew in with 8 pieces of luggage, took a cab and dumped our luggage at our new home. The previous owners were still moving their things out. We walked to Yonge Street and bought sheets as we planned to sleep on the floor. We could have checked into a hotel but I was so sick and tired of living out of a suitcase and I just wanted to "be home". The movers had dropped the ball so they were only going to deliver our goods 5 days after our arrival. We bought an air mattress for our second night. Much more comfortable. Doug left for the US to attend a conference and I was left with Sasha to organise the unloading. Even with 3 men hauling goods and boxes, it took the whole day. Sash was rather well behaved considering she could not take a nap, there were no doors (taken out to enable furniture to be moved inside the house) and all she wanted to so was play outside. Looking back I don't even know how I did it by myself but I guess I was just so excited about getting on with the next chapter..unpacking and settling in..that I was probably high on adrenalin. Tip about unpacking: always unpack your master bedroom first, then do one room at a time.

So here we are in Toronto. We love the neighbourhood, we love the house, and we know we will be very happy here.

I spent an hour defending my work. I was told that I would be, to put it crudely, bitchslapped, about my thesis chapter that suggested that there is a positive relationship between regulation and private equity investment by Dutch Institutional investors. Too counterintuitive. I smiled, I put my point across succicntly and clearly. The examiners deliberated. I am informed that I have been awarded a doctorate cum laude. I smiled, in surprise, thinking holy shit I did it. D is to now call me Dr. Supreme Commander. I freakin did it.

I spent an hour defending my work. I was told that I would be, to put it crudely, bitchslapped, about my thesis chapter that suggested that there is a positive relationship between regulation and private equity investment by Dutch Institutional investors. Too counterintuitive. I smiled, I put my point across succicntly and clearly. The examiners deliberated. I am informed that I have been awarded a doctorate cum laude. I smiled, in surprise, thinking holy shit I did it. D is to now call me Dr. Supreme Commander. I freakin did it.

Sasha's First portraits

I get a coupon in the mail. Submit the coupon, sitting fees are waived and get a 5x10 pic at $3.99....$156.96 later....










My thesis was approved today. I now only have to get 50 copies printed in book form and delivered to Tilburg in 10 days. And of course defend it...

Sasha's skill of the day

Leaving a crumb trail as she grinds a pecan shortbread cookie against the DVR, the table, the playcube, and the rug. Trying to lick cookie dust from the rug.

Our wonderful little package has been a little terror these past few days. Granted, she is teething and has a nasty cold. Her discomfort may be causing her mood swings, happy and playful during the day and a crying banshee at night. Regardless, she is driving me insane. Two sleepless nights have made me seriously question our plans to have a second wonderful little package. I don't handle fatigue very well. When I get tired I find it more difficult to handle my temper. After a night of short cat naps as Sash kept waking up screaming in frustration, I was ready to slam something against the wall..if only I had a vase handy. Then it hit me....Sasha was probably as tired and frustrated as I was. While she did not have the added feeling of guilt and hopelessness of not being able to alleviate her own baby's pain, she was probably wondering why her Mummy could not understand her babbling and cries. I hugged her till she slept again and reminded myself to take those birth control pills in the morning.

We spent Easter Sunday at our neighbours house. They had the whole family over...and our little unit. Grandma and Pappy brought their grandkids Easter baskets filled with goodies...and one for Sasha filled with a huge stuffed soft Easter Bunny. We were very surprised at such generosity of heart. I thank my lucky stars every day that we have found such great friends.

Bidding wars

It has been a hectic and stressful month. A month full of hope, disappointment and milestones.

Hope

We found an agent in Toronto to help us out with the house search. I found her by looking at listings that I liked, but could not see ourselves affording, and contacting a listing agent that didn't look to smarmy. We drove up to T, was interviewed by her, and she agreed to take us on. We knew which area we wanted to live in, but we needed an expert to help value the houses. We had the weekend to look at houses and figure out what we liked. Within hours we discovered that the T housing market is extremely different from Upstate. In the area we were looking at we would get 1/3 our current house for double the price. Here if you sell your house within the month you have it made. In T, when a house is put on the market, offers are sought within days. Then the bidding wars start, so depending on the number of bidders, that price which we doubled....tripled. We started out having a mental list of things we wanted. We left T on that first trip with a list of what we are willing to forgo..proximity to subway, land, number of bedrooms and bathrooms. We made an offer on a Wednesday at 6pm...was told we were not even in the running. In the past month we have made 4 offers on houses. All not even close to the final accepted bid. On our third trip to T, after looking at over 20 houses, we found one we both loved. It wasn't really the house that we fell in love with, it was the location. Minutes away down one end of the street to the most beautiful park, filled with mature trees and nature trails galore. It wasn't just a patch of grass like all the other parks we have seen..this was heaven right smack in the middle of chaos. Oh yes, down the other end of the street there are shops galore...to name a few: Starbucks, Gap and Fruits and Flowers. We knew this was the location for us. We made a pre-emptive bid, a bid before all others were due. Not even looked at. We waited a week. Last night, at 6pm we faxed in our bid to our agent. She called at 9pm. Our offer was second highest, and just a tad lower than the higher bid. We have been given the opportunity to counter bid as the sellers listing agent is a colleague of our agent. We went a tad higher, to reach a number considered extremely lucky. We sat and waited, and waited, praying that we get the house but also wondering how on earth we would pay for it. She called back and told us she had the best birthday present for Sasha. Both offers were identical, but she sat down with the sellers to tell them about us, how we met, where we have lived, why we are moving, and how we plan to live in the house to give our 1 year old baby the perfect life. The sellers liked us (better than the other bidders I suppose) and want us to enjoy the house. We are still waiting for our agent to tell us this is all a huge mistake...but for now, we are the happiest family on earth.

Disappointment

After our first trip to T, we came home to accept an offer on our home. There were two offers and we were encouraged to accept the offer from the more financially stable older couple (DINKs), and turn down the offer presented by a young couple with two kids. We negotiated with the DINKs. They retracted their offer as we did not get back to them in time. We were confused as how did they expect us to get back to them while we were enroute from T. They came back the next day with a lower offer. We turned them down. They cam back with the original offer. We suspected they would be difficult to deal with, but what can you do. They inspected the house and wanted us to change all 3 garage doors. That was straw that broke the camels back and we told them to bugger themselves. We instructed our agent to get them to rescind their offer. They did with minutes. We then accepted the offer made by the young couple. We decided to take the riskier option and bet on the nicer couple coming through. I believe what goes around comes around. The DINKs later called our agent and told her they were still interested. She had the satisfaction of telling them that another offer has been accepted.

I am sure that our accepting the young couple's offer has a huge part in the sellers of our new house choosing us over the other bidder.

Milestones

Sasha turned 1 on Tuesday. We bought her a huge dollhouse which was unveiled to her on the morning of. She is having fun chewing on the furniture. We had her portraits taken. Then we invited a few neighbours over for dinner and champers. One guest commented that she expected a Mickey Mouse themed party with balloons, not champers and brie. We told her that it was more a celebration for us as we have been able for one whole year to keep a baby alive and happy. A milestone for both Sash and her parents who this time last year never thought that such a wonderful little package could fill the days with this much joy and love.

This is what I woke up to this morning. While I find the snow enchanting...where oh where is Spring?



Sasha will be 11 months tomorrow. Funny how the months fly by so fast, but each day is just never ending.

We have a rather child unfriendly house, so we have had to teach Sash to handle certain situations rather early..like manoeuvring stairs.

I am attending a baby shower being held for a friend of a friend this Saturday. A small one as the mummy-to-be has had 3 other showers and has recieved enough gifts to clothe/lug about 8 babies. I have been racking my brain trying to figure out what to buy for her and came up with these two gifts:



Child-Rearing Roulette
"PARENTAL POINTERS" GIFT SET

Have fun and help new parents stay un-divorced with these whimsical gifts. No need to bicker about whose turn it is to change that messy diaper or do the 2 am feeding -just spin the "Wheel of Responsibility" and accept your fate! And the book on safe baby handling tips provides just that - and a lot of laughs in the process. Not just baby shower gifts - they're important tools for expecting parents! Imported.


and



Straightlaced
JOHNNY'S SOCKS - SET OF 6

A boy's never too young for sneakers - especially when they're this comfy. Cotton baby socks are printed to look like those classic kicks every guy lives in, complete with real shoelace ties. A selection of 6 pairs - in a range of colors packaged in a gift-ready box - promises an early start to the "dirty socks on the floor" phenomenon.


Figured I would balance the silly with practicality. The Johnny socks are sneaker versions of some Mary Jane socks we bought for Sasha when she was a wee 8 weeks.


It has been surreal living in the house this past week. It is semi-sterile and has to be kept so in case we need to show the house with short notice. I always keep fresh flowers about so that is not difficult to do. I dont usually keep the toilets/kitchen free of clutter so that has been a chore. I also now make the bed every day. It is just walking around the house knowing that we have had 4 other couples (one an FBI agent..) traipsing around the house criticizing it for all its worth, looking through our closets. We live here but it no longer feels like home.

Anyone want a house in Upstate NY?

Staging a home for sale is an absolute b*%$h. Previously, when we moved from our apartments, all we had to do was let the movers in and pack up everything (and I mean everything..down to the many ketchup and mustard sachets we don't bother to throw away). It is a whole new ballgame now. Cleaning the house is one thing, staging it is another. As you may know from my entries, keeping house is not my forte. I rarely vacuum and I only ever dust/clean/wipe down anything when we have people over and this only happens in rooms to be made accessible to the masses. In addition to cleaning, we now have to stage the rooms to make them palatable to the masses. The rule is, you live one way, you stage another. So all clutter has to be removed. No personal pictures, no little quirky souvenirs scattered about. Kitchen counters have to be totally cleared. This is not easy to do especially when we still LIVE here. Toys have to be put away, out of sight. Our ironing room has been turned into the nursery, so Sasha's clothes are in our dressing room (her little dresser/closet is too heavy to move) while her crib and changing table are in the new nursery (which was previously the ironing room). The larger room on the third floor has been turned into another bedroom, with the bed all made up like it is actually used (since we moved in we have only used the room once and I think I have entered the room maybe all of five times). Our little computer/printer table which was previously in our second study has been moved upstairs to the smaller third floor room so that now looks like a little study. Our closets have to be show worthy so that means we actually have to hang our clothes. I have been going around the house with a can of white paint touching up any little nick I see. The mold and mildew from the windows have to be cleaned and or painter over. No dust balls about. This house had better sell soon or I will go crazy maintaining it like this...aaaarghh!!

Any-who...if you are interested in moving upstate, I am posting some pics which our agent (who gets a whopping 6% of the sale price, and does not have to deal with a sigle dust ball!!) is using:


Our soon to be ex-home

Our soon to be ex-dining room

Our soon to be ex-living room

I very rarely have any regrets, but if asked what my most recent regret is it would be my failure to get a baby book to record Sasha's milestones. I suppose not having one myself, I assumed that Sasha would not be too bothered with her lack of one. (with all my moving about I hardly have any childhood souvenirs such as pictures etc...heck, I can't even find my academic certificates) My neighbour jots everything down and when I ask her things like "What were Ally's first words?", she will produce the book and say "Dada, 3 March, 9.18am..".

So, assuming that one day Sasha will be reading this (Although with my recent troubles teaching her to eat table food, I can't imagine teaching her something as difficult as reading. I am resigned to the fact that at the age of 21, she may still be eating strained sweet potatoes), I am going to add little bits of Sasha trivia in this blog.

For example:

She was born on 3 April 2006 at 4.12pm (although D insists he saw her hair peek out at 4.11pm).
She weighed in at 7 pounds 9 ounces 3438 grams, and she was 2 weeks early.
She was 21 inches long.
Her apgar was 9/9.

On 30 May (2 month checkup), she was 11 pounds 4 ounces and 23 inches long.
On 24 July (4 month checkup), she was 13 pounds 8 ounces and 25 inches long.
On 33 October(6 month checkup) , she was 16 pounds and 26 1/4 inches long.

Her last check-up was on 3 February 2007. She is now 17 pounds 12 ounces and is 29 1/2 inches long.

She said her first word, Dada, on 23 November 2006.
She giggled for the first time ever as I was tickling her Daddy. We were in the TV room hanging out.
Her little toes first touched the Ocean on 16 May 2006 in Martha's Vineyard.
She learned to crawl while her Daddy and I were away in India. Her Nenek trained her while we were away. We first saw her crawl in her Nenek and Tok's TV room when we arrived back in KL on the morning of 11 December 2006.
Last night, on 7 February 2007, we caught her trying to sneak up the stairs from the first floor to the second. She had climbed 7 stairs before her Mummy caught her. Her Mummy let her climb down by herself.
As of 10 months of age, Sasha has visited Saratoga Springs, Martha's Vineyard, Provincetown, Stockholm, Kuala Lumpur, Langkawi, Singapore, Amsterdam airport, Madrid, Seville, Granada (Al Hambra), Winnipeg, Toronto, Minaki, Penang, Kuching, Seattle, Boston, and NYC. She has been on 38 flights.
To take her first passport picture at the age of 2 weeks, we had to strip her naked, place her on the floor in the middle of a busy pharmacy and spray water on her face so she would open her eyes. Suffice it to say we got some nasty looks.

So Sash, if you do read this one day, we apologise for not being overly diligent in keeping records of your milestones. We were too busy enjoying and basking in your cheery disposition to take precious time away to take notes. We do love you though.

On the road again...

You may know we live in Upstate New York. Well, not for long. D has accepted a job offer in Canada. So, by 1 July 2007, I have to:

1) Sell a house
2) Look for another house to move into
3) Move house contents across the border
4) Unpack house contents
5) Defend Ph.D thesis in NL
6) Apply for Canadian PR (involves getting police clearance from 3 bloody different countries)
7) Get Canadian citizenship for offspring
8) Make new friends...sigh

Suffice it to say I have just finished a bottle of vino tinto. Will get started on to do list tommorrow...fanfuckintistic.

Sasha received a very sweet postcard from Aunty Rara this morning. It will be a while before she can read it for herself, but I am sure she is well chuffed. I read it to her in the meantime. It will be displayed on the kitchen white board along with all the other postcards D and I send her from our travels. Well, yes, she is usually with us on our travels, but she still gets a postcard anyway. Anyone who knows me knows that I like sending postcards to family and friends. I decided a while back that I would send myself (and later D then Sash) postcards as sort of "souvenirs" from my gallivanting. I sometimes look at the postcards as I cook and think to myself, where will life take me next?

I find that Americans are obsessed with their coffee on the go. Or should I say their cup holders. If you read any review of cars or baby strollers, there will always be someone who mentions "cup holders". Try it...Google it. They now have Mercury cars with heated cup holders and another car make that has illuminated cup holders. Obsessed I tell you!

D is away yet again. This time he taking for the first time the direct flight to Changi from EWR. Longest commercial flight available I think. He will spend more time on SQ than in Singapore. It was a bit of a nightmare getting him off as the taxi which was meant to take him to the train station was very very late. So late that D had to drive his car to the station and leave it there. The bloody company did not even apologise so I immediately got online and gave it scathing reviews on every site that listed its number. This is a small town, so there were only 2 sites, but every little scathing review helps here. As I am not going to get any satisfaction screaming at the company operator, I am going to get my satisfaction screaming my dissatisfaction at potential clients.

While he is away I am taking the opportunity to figure out what to do for Valentines Day. I know, I know, I have ages, but when you have a baby you do what you can when you can. I thought of getting him a wallet, then an external battery for his laptop, but am settling on a one night stay at a historic hotel in Boston (JFK proposed to Jackie in the hotel resto...table 40). That is his favourite city and I find it more child friendly than NYC, so a-Boston we shall go. It is only a 90 minute drive away so Sash will not find it too tiring. Now to figure out how to book the carriage ride...

Reduce, Reuse and Recycle

Sasha is wearing the most adorable little outfit today. Green and purple checkered trousers, a lilac turtleneck body and a lilac BabyGAP hoodie. I cannot take credit for her excellent dress sense though. I have to thank my very generous neighbour. Yup, the same neighbour who watches our house when we are away also clothes our baby. How we got so lucky I don't know. She has a 3 year old girl so we get loads of hand me downs. And when I say loads, I mean bags and bags of near perfect, weather appropriate clothes. I asked her recently, as she passed me yet another bag of winter clothing, if she wanted the clothes back after Sasha is through with them. She said no, I am to keep them and pass them on to anyone once I am through with them. Sort of like a baby clothes pay-it-forward. I love this idea. Of course I have set aside certain outfits that Sasha may want to keep, like her going home sweater suit, her cukur jambul outfit, her first mary jane socks (they are socks that look like shoes), her first bikini, her first sweat suit, and her first hat. I have bags and bags of clothes that I will keep for the next one, but then what? I now know that I am to pass them on to another baby girl whose Mummy will reduce, reuse and recycle. But it is not as easy as it sounds. I thought of doing this to a friend of ours here who just had a baby girl, but I get a sense that she may find it insulting. I dont know her well enough to ask her. While I find hand me downs so very useful, another may find it demeaning. Sigh..

Dilemma

It was around midnight when I put Sasha to sleep. I looked out the window as I noticed it was snowing. That's when I saw her, the deer. She was sneaking up our front yard towards our bushes. Don't ask me what kind of bushes as am not a horticulturist. Refer to post about lack of green thumb. Presumably deer food bushes. I was upset that she was eating our bushes as I realised that she was probably the culprit that ate all our tulips last Spring. But I was also glad that she was getting nourishment as it was bitterly cold outside. Then I noticed another one crossing the road to join the buffet. I am now resigned to the fact that I will again have no flowers in front of the house this year. Our neighbour across the street has 13 acres of Forever Green land, a sort of reserve. As our street is within city limits, it is illegal for anyone to hunt the wild deer and turkeys on the reserve. Oh yes, did I mention the many turkeys that hang out in our front yard?

Belly ring Part 2

I found my old belly ring in a handbag I have not used for a while. A long while as I took the ring off in my second trimester. I am wearing my old belly ring and old handbag today. I remember getting my belly button pierced a few days after a fairly traumatic break-up. I say fairly in hindsight, but back then I was devastated, shattered, lost. I wonder if I will remember today, re-insertion day, just as vividly as I remember piercing day. While I am happy that I can actually see the ring when I look in the mirror, I am still dissatisfied with my lack of motivation to lose extra weight. I am still in my maternity Sevens, but then they are very comfortable. I know I should get a pair of non-maternity jeans, but who has time to shop. I have yet to go shopping on my own with Sash in tow. What do I do with the stroller when I enter the fitting room? I have the same problem when I travel on my own and need to take my luggage to the loo. Why can't they install, in addition to the Handicapped stall, a "With luggage" stall. I admit that sometimes I do use the much larger Handicapped stall when I don't think it is advisable to leave my luggage on their own outside the stall, but I have this fear that I will be depriving someone in her minute of need. Which is worse, to be the one caught using the Handicapped stall or the one with the suspicious luggage that is being surrounded by the airport security?

Tip of the day: If you intend to join the mile high club, use the handicapped loo on the plane. Alot more space.

What one question would you ask a psychic about the future?

We are in Boston for a few days. My fridge at home is full of rotting veggies. I am worried about the ice storm and ice build-up that may affect the huge trees we have in our backyard. I hope those trees are not on my roof or in my master bedroom (or any bedroom for that matter). Did I remember to stock up on firewood just in case we have a power outage? All this forgotten as we walk along Newbury Street, have a little stroll in the Boston Common (ever so carefully due to ice sheets)and imagine living in any of the beautiful houses on Beacon Hill. I love Boston. Such a beautiful, historical yet manageable city. And the Chowder...to die for.

We bought a new game called TableTopics. Just a bunch of overpriced flashcards with questions. We plan to take one out every day and just have fun. Yesterday it was What one question would you ask a psychic about the future?. Today it is If you had a tattoo what would you get and where would you put it? They also come as coasters. Bought a set for a friend celebrating...uh, who celebrated...her birthday on Monday. I know she will love them.

I had an odd dream last night. I dreamt I was with a few colleagues discussing a project. We had discovered a new way to heat and cool buildings. In my dream, we would use some sort of nuclear technology to make some sort of hot liquid which we would insert in concrete columns that make up the skeleton of the building. Here I must add that the actual technology is vague in the dream as I took Law in Uni, and there really was no Nuclear Physics elective available..even if there was the possibility of my being able to have taken it and passed would be as impossible as my inventing the solution to keep mankind warm. Anyway, back to my dream. So, we would add pipes with cold liquid (using the same nuclear technology but uh, in reverse) to keep the building cool. Sort of like having the whole building as a radiator. Then I woke up.

Sashakins

Sasha enjoying her crawl Dec 2006


Sasha and her Daddy Dec 2006


Sasha learning to enjoy sand Dec 2006


Sasha and her Tok Dec 2006

A closer look...

Qutub Minar Complex, Delhi

I found the Qutub Minar and the Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque next to it, located in the outskirts of Delhi, to be an even more intriguing site than the Taj Mahal. The boring facts are as follows: The Qutub Minar was started in 1199 AD by Qutub-ud-Din Aibak and completed by the sultan's successor and son-in-law, Iltutmish. It is made of red and buff sandstone. The minaret is 72.5 m high and has 379 steps from the bottom to the top. The Minar is tapering with the diameter of the base is 14.3 m while at the top floor it is2.7 m. The Qutub Minar is still the highest stone tower as well as one of the finest Islamic structures ever raised in India.
More interestingly, the Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque, which was built by Qutub-ud-Din Aibak in AD 1198, is the earliest mosque built by the Delhi Sultans. It consists of a rectangular courtyard enclosed by cloisters, erected with the carved columns and architectural members of 27 Hindu and Jain temples. These 27 temples were demolished in order to construct the mosque.
Within the mosque complex is also the Iron Pillar, which dates back to 4th century AD. The pillar bears an inscription, which states that it was erected as a flagstaff in honor of the Hindu god, Vishnu, and in the memory of the Gupta King Chandragupta II (BC375-413). The pillar is made of 98 per cent wrought iron but has stood 1,600 years without rusting or decomposing. The Taj Mahal is a structure aasociated with romance. I associate the Qutub Minar with the corruption of absolute power.

We arrived in Seattle last night. From the airport to the hotel, only saw 4 Starbucks..and counting. Was just thinking on the flight how this trip reminds me of those trips on the Tube from Zone 3 (where I used to bunk in with frinds on city visits) to Zone 1 (where parents' friends would be staying with my stash of pineapple tarts and ikan bilis goreng). How with each stop closer to Zone 1 the demographics would change slightly, the passengers' complexion getting lighter, the clothes getting pricier, the hair more salon-ified. In this case, with each airport (mind you, I started from Upstate NY) the passengers' less waspy, and the clothes quirkier. West coasters are friendlier, more relaxed, and definitely more environmentally aware. Our hotel in Chicago had a few non-smoking floors...our hotel here is 100% non-smoking. Last night, I found it interesting...3 years ago I would have done an about face and looked for another hotel. Smoking was not a habit then...it was a necessity.

Just as Sasha was getting over her jet lag, we move 2 hours behind. She had breakfast at 5am and I think her lunch will be at 10am...sigh..they say that children need routine to get a sense of security...sorry kiddo, looks like you will have to rely on Mummy's and Daddy's hugs and kisses.

Sometimes I feel that I am such a horrible parent. The whole no routine issue. The lack of supervision over what she licks/chews/bites. I remember when we were looking for a house, we were warned to test for lead in the paint in case the baby starts chewing on the window ledges. My first thought was MY BABY WILL NOT BE SUCKING ON WINDOW LEDGES THANKYOUVERYMUCH. Of course 9 months later we get told off as she is caught chewing on the stapler at the hotel business center. It seems that many people have touched the thing hence pretty germ infested. My first thought was What are the odds of her getting the Ebola Virus lady? As long as she doesn't staple her tongue, let her play. Of course I only have doubts for a few minutes a week. The rest of the time I am just pretty pleased with myself as she is still alive and a pretty happy baby. Touchwood she doesn't get Ebola.

I think I shall take her to the Bodies exhibition. The one where dead bodies are skinned, preserved and displayed in varying poses. I am not sure who will be more traumatised...Sasha or the other people as I wheel Sasha around the exhibition in her stroller.

Chicago...again

We are in Chicago...again. The sun is shining, and the weather warm. Global warming at its best. Am not top form this week what with Sash still waking up at 3am to play, my sinuses acting up and a slight all over body ache. Still, the Field Museum has to be done. I think the King Tut exhibition is still on. I am pretty sure that is the same exhibition I attended in Basle way back in June 2004 when I first met D. He met me in Berne for a few days en-route to Sydney, and his flight to Heathrow was departing from Basle. It would be nice to take Sash to this exhibition...introduce her to some of the exhibits. The exhibits, I think, would like an update of my life. That one life out of the thousands they must have met all this time on the road.


When we chose our baby's name, we wanted one that is simple to spell, fairly generic yet unique, and could not be shortened. So Sasha it is. Of course, we have now discovered that the following can be derived from such a simple premise: Sash, Sashi, ShaSha, ChaCha, ChaChak, Sashakins, Sashazito, and Sashadoll.

What's worse...?

What's worse than having jet lag? Having a baby with jet lag. What's even worse than that? Having a jet lagged baby who has just learned to crawla and excited about new mobility especially ability to crawl over obstructions (sleeping parents) in bed.

The past month has been fun, exciting, eye-opening and warm. It is now time to reverse damage caused by doting grandparents and aunts/uncles (No Sash, no chocolate cake and coconut water for you today) and get back into the routine. But first, we must stop waking up at 3am....

Some 3am thoughts...

1) Why do we call anorexia and bulimia eating disorders? Shouldn't it be not eating disorders?

2) You know how those with non-eating disorders look in the mirror and view their 40kg bodies as fat...well, I have the opposite problem. What do you call that? Optimistic or delusional?

Delhi: 1 December to 4 December

We arrived in Delhi on 1 Dec 2006. I had been apprehensive about the trip after our rather negative experience with the Indian Embassy in New York. The travel advisory in our guide book did not help. From the touts at the airport, to the taxi drivers who charge exorbitant rates only to NOT take you to your hotel and of course the waiters who poison you and then take you to doctors who are in cahoots with everyone it seems. The taxi ride went well. I had arranged with the hotel for an airport pick-up. The taxi was small so our luggage had to be strapped to the roof rack. The co-driver was friendly, making small talk during the whole ride, trying to gauge how much we made so that he could name a “fair price” for a taxi ride to Agra the next day. There was nothing much to see on the ride to Old Delhi as it was dark, but it was absolutely chaotic. The continuous honking and haphazard driving was intriguing that night. Within a week, I swore that if I ever became Prime Minister of India I would outlaw the sale of car horns in India.

We stayed at the Broadway Hotel in Old Delhi near Delhi Gate. It was clean, if rather dated. The most interesting part about the hotel was the view of the rooftops from our window. We could see children flying what seemed to be a thousand kites from the rooftops. We saw women doing laundry. We witnessed men taking showers from public taps in the street, street vendors selling food to school children, and beggars holding babies (the most heart wrenching sight ever). We watched everyday Delhians go about their poverty stricken lives from our 3 star hotel window, and felt overwhelming gratitude for what we had in life. Our baby was safe at home being pampered by her grandparents. We were on a quasi holiday. We would not have to think twice about buying dinner at the restaurant downstairs where the price of our dinner would probably feed a family of 10 for a month. Made me think that life is just pure and absolute luck. It could have easily been me, or Sasha, down there.

We hired a taxi form a travel agent for the 4 hour trip to Agra the next day. It cost us 4500 Rupees (US$100) for the car, 500 Rupees for road tax, and a 500 Rupees tip. The driver makes 4500 Rupees a month. Do the math and you can understand why “normal” Indians are complaining about wealth disparity. We visited Aqbar’s tomb, and then on to the legendary Taj Mahal. It is everything that is said about it. Majestic, romantic (although there are conflicting stories about the romance factor), a work of genius, a diamond in India’s crown (since the British took the other diamond).

While I am glad that I visited the Taj Mahal, I think it is the journey there (and back) that affected me most (and will do so for a long time). In India, there are no road lanes. There is however some form of order in the absolute chaos. The drivers honk continuously to warn the others of their whereabouts. The trucks get right of way, then the cows. Lets not forget the camel and bullock carts. We pass these vehicles without caution and when we have to stop, we are accosted by beggars carrying babies, children selling key chains and fans made out of peacock feathers, men offering monkeys to pose with for pictures, and snake charmers. Sometimes you get a vehicle in your “lane” going in the opposite direction. It seems that it is sometimes faster than waiting for a U-turn. It is dusty, and smog just envelops everything. There are tents on the side of the highway. Families cook in the open. Mothers hold their babies, just sitting, and staring into nothing, as everything passes them. Next time I am taking the train.

It has been a hectic week. Arrived in KL on Saturday morning. Parents held a belated open house to celebrate the Eid on Sunday. Sunday night was spent with friends celebrating a union. Monday onwards, lunches and dinners out with friends and family, enjoying the food, the company, and the gossip. D and I are heading out to Delhi this evening, and we are still not over our jet lag. Our little unit is following S's lead, who unfortunately falls asleep at 6pm and wakes at 2.30am to play. We quickly realised that it is much better to just remain jet lagged until S gets over hers. My poor parents (or should I say the poor maid) will soon realise that the grandot's smile may not be as adorable at 3am. It will be our first seperation. While we look forward to the adventure, we know that we will miss her terribly. I wonder if she will miss us. I hope my parents realise that S does not like to be rocked to sleep as she prefers to lie flat in bed. I hope they remember that if she does not like food, she projectile vomits...but will smile as we clean her and surrounding area. I have a feeling that the next 10 days will feel like a lifetime.

Good neighbours

Last year, on December 2, D and I bought our first home together. The day after we closed, we went away to Rome and Tunisia for 3 weeks. We came back, celebrated Christmas, then we were off again somewhere. I forget where. Then I was forced to hybernate until S was delivered. Then we were off to KL and Madrid for a month. Since we have lived here, we have not stayed home for more than 3 weekends in a row, so it has been difficult cultivating friendships. We have been extremely lucky though as we have the best neighbours. Our immediate neighbours, D and C have two grown boys, A and L. A is a sophmore in college down south and L is in a boarding school in New England. They have two dogs. They have lived on this street for 15 years so know all the dirt on everyone...current and past residents included. Their immediate neighbours, J and S, also have 2 kids, A who is the most adorable 3 year old and L, the most charming 5 month old you will ever meet. J and S are closer to us in age, and very generous with parenting advice. They are also our Desperate Housewives buddies. We go over to theirs on Sunday with a bottle of wine, order Chinese and watch DH. They also very kindly DVR (like Tivo) our shows when we are away. We leave them our keys when we are away. D and C watch our house for us, and S comes in the day we get home to turn up our heat. Between the 3 households we have shared dozens of bottles of Sam Adams Ale and Pinot Noir, and tried every sushi/chinese takeaway within a 20 mile radius. When you have a baby, and drink, the home is where you socialise. When you don't have the time to cultivate friendships (and as you get older it does get much harder), having great neighbours is a blessing. When you don't have family in the city/state/country/continent....neighbours are your new family.

This time last year

Life is fleeting, that I know. Time flies, I know. It is the what seems to be super-sonic speed at which time flies and life fleets that amazes me. December last year I was preggers, on a "last hurrah" trip with D before I was to be grounded by my Ob/Gyn. December last year I was doing this...



With him...



Sleeping in this...



5 months preggers, having to pee here...



While I look back fondly (and sometimes longingly) at December 2005, I can't wait for December 2006. What adventures lie ahead..

S (44 days old) and D in Martha's Vineyard

D works at home most of the time, and I work at home all of the time. At home, our computers are on 24/7. We take our computers everywhere. We are both addicted to email and have been to the most obscure internet cafes in the world to get our fix. We realised our attachment to our computers was unnatural when we were camping in an oasis in the Sahara. We needed some light as we were in absolute darkness and needed to pee. It took us five minutes to agree on whose computer would be used to illuminate our way..battery power was precious. I lost out as D had a paper to finish...which he did... in the tent, in the middle of the Sahara (did I mention that he is a workaholic?).

S is getting quite jealous of our computers. She is fascinated by them, yet realises that they take our attention away from her. We may have to get her one of her own soon.

What I have have have to do every day is check my email and check my downloads. By this I mean I go to this site. With every new download, I feel like my existence has been affirmed. My work has been recognised, therefore I am.

Motherhood has changed me. Motherhood has changed my life. How much I have changed, and how much my life has changed will be shared in due time. In the meantime, Will Farrell has summed it up well.

"No one tells you how much attention these little children need. They can't do anything for themselves. They can't clean, they can't make money for you. They just sit around and break stuff. I'm waiting for it to get better."

If Sash were a Bond Girl, her name would be Pissy Galore. I marvel at how heavy her diaper gets sometimes. Does not make me want to change her more often. Just makes me greatful for the wonders of new diaper technology. What did parents do before the discovery of that marvelous gel in diapers?

It's raining outside. There was a tsunami warning on the west coast. Up to 200,000 people in Vancouver without power. Luckily it isn't that cold (for November). Back home, D and I have stocked up on firewood and flashlights in the event of such a disaster. I used to think that if you had gas powered furnaces, only the lights would be affected in the event of a power outage. Then someone pointed out that electricity is needed to "trigger" the furnace. So now we have firewood at home, just in case. I sometimes wonder what I would do in a War of the Worlds situation. Would I be strong and do whatever it takes to survive, or would I just shrivel up and wait for the aliens to nuke me?

Spent the morning in Yorkville...again. Yesterday was "Culture day" and today, as I have told S, is "Handbag day". I have been on the hunt for that transition handbag, which is smaller than a diaper bag, yet large enough to stuff in a bottle and a diaper, maybe even a small bottle of strained organic mangoes and pears. Not an easy task for many reasons. It has to be durable enough for those milk spills. It cannot be too "precious" due to those same milk spills. I am short hence for me, there is a fine line between handbag and handluggage. It needs to be roomy, yet small-ish. It needs to be zipped up as am wary of pick-pockets and things falling out as handbag is stuffed under plane seat. It is to be my Christmas pressie from D. He doesn't know this yet. We have an arrangement where we buy birthday and Christmas presents in advance, whenever something catches our eye (preferably somewhere we can claim back taxes paid). My birthday is after Christmas, but D bought my present last July. I will probably get him his Christmes present in India, where he will fall in love with some ridiculously ugly and ornate sculpture/painting/piece of furniture that I will hate (ok, detest), but will also love (ok, tolerate) because of his enthusiasm. My compromise will be my Christmas present. My buying said ugly souvenir will be his birthday present 2007. My having to put up with his "Isn't that (insert ornate sculpture/painting/piece of furniture) just awesome!!" ev-e-ry-time he looks at it is priceless.

Dirty Laundry

S is watching a children's show. The cartoon characters are speaking French, well, Canadian French. She seems to be enjoying the show. Yes, she watches alot of TV. When I was preggers I swore to myself that she would not watch TV as a child. That lasted for about 2 months, as she became more active and slept less. I needed to keep her entertained and she had not yet learned how to enjoy toys. So in came the Baby Einstein DVDs. She enjoys the colours, the music, and the scenes of toys in action. I feel less guilty when I have to ignore her for hours as I do my work. I am lucky though, as I notice she is enjoying her toys more by the day (and her Daddy keeps adding to her collection every day) and she is not fussed when there is no TV. She is read to every day, although it is getting more difficult for us to keep her from wanting to shove the pages into her mouth. Ah well, at least she enjoys books...eating them for now, and hopefully reading them later.

The sheets are covered with organic sweet potato and chicken casserole. One drawback of travelling with a baby is having to leave behind the bulky equipment such as high chairs and jolly jumpers. We use the jolly jumper to tire her out and it is much easier to feed her in her high chair. But on the bright side, sheets are changed every day in hotels. Hope the maids realise that the orange stains aren't skid marks..hmmmm.

Off to the Royal Ontario Museum to catch the Italian Arts and Design: The 20th Century Exhibition. Then maybe lunch in a nice cafe in Yorkville.

The family reunion went extremely well. Dr C was in a jovial, and more importantly, flush mood, so dinner for 10 was had at a landmark (ie overpriced but with ambience) prime rib restaurant…only seafood option…lobster. Wine flowed as we chatted, caught up with gossip and made plans for Christmas 06/Summer 07. D’s nieces had only just arrived as their flights were delayed and cancelled. Just like ours were as we headed to Toronto on Sunday afternoon. One gripe I have about US airlines, is the extremely bad service. The ground crew service is excellent most of the time, and I can understand their cheap, or rather non-existent on-flight service where food/drink has to be bought ala budget airlines. What I hate hate hate are the delays and cancellations. We only found out our flight to Toronto was cancelled after we were comfortably seated watching CNN in the lounge, with 30 minutes to go before boarding. No announcements….silence. I only discovered the problem on my way to top up my shortbread supply…ah yes, the rations in the lounges are equally dire. As we scrambled to get on an alternative flight we were told to rush to another terminal, to confirm our seats on another flight operated by another airline leaving 4 hours later than our original flight. This has happened to us many many times on United…lets not talk about missing luggage (which is hell when I have S’s diapers, formula and food packed in said missing luggage)…that we don’t even get angry anymore. We are resigned to, and have expected, atrocious service from US airlines for some time now. (I do acknowledge that I have not flown internally in ex Soviet Union, Africa or South America so I am sure there may be even worse airlines). Luckily we got our seat and waited it out in yet another lounge..this time they had carrot sticks…yay.

During our wait, D decided to change S’s diapers in the men’s loo. As I was reading my Sunday edition of the New York Times, I heard a blood curdling cry…which went on for quite a while (there were curious stares directed at men’s loo door) . I thought of checking up on D, but just as I was about to take a break from reading an extremely interesting article about tourism in Zimbabwe…a nice man came up to me and said “There is a lot of screaming, but everything is under control”. I continued reading and D and S came out a few minutes later…slightly teary, but diapered up. I would like to say that I had full confidence in D handling the situation…which I did, but I have to admit that I continued reading because I was more confident that had there been a problem, he would have been out of there is a flash seeking back-up support. And it was an interesting article…

Cloud Gate

It is nearly midnight. I am in a hotel room in Chicago, starving and trying to figure out where the room service menu is. As much as I would like to walk outside on the Magnificent Mile to locate a deep dish pizza or two, it is raining cats and dogs out and snow is expected later. This is my second time in the Windy City and Sasha's first (well, she was a foetus the last time we were here). My favourite thing to do in Chicago? Just walking around the Cloud Gate...wishing I had one at home. If I win the lottery, I would buy it (commissioning Anish Kapoor would be too easy) and put it in my garden. It would be mother of all garden ornaments non? In line with my "what would I buy if I am richer than Oprah" train of thought, I sometimes also ask myself where I would choose to live if I were this power hungry superpower who somehow ran the world. The last time it was Medici Palace I think...with the David as my bedside sculpture. When I dream, I dream big.

We are here to have a sort of family reunion. Dr C is here for the American Heart Association meetings. I will be meeting D's half brother and his two daughters for the first time ever, and D's sister will also be here with her family. We are spending the day together tomorrow then back our seperate ways. Should be an interesting day.

Testing the waters

Has it been nearly a year and a half?? On a whim, I woke up this morning and decided to look at this blog. Ok, not really a whim. D woke up early (for us, 8am is dead early), kept pestering me to join him for breakfast (ie cook him breakfast), and so here I am at 10am reading about my past life. Funny, it seems like a lifetime ago when I was so upset that I could not find accomodation in Dublin, when I went shopping in Milan with my fuddies (fag buddies to those not in the know..and before I am accused of being horribly politically incorrect...they came up with the term themselves...so there!), when I spent ages haggling in Shanghai. And so...here I am, a lifetime later. Or should I say a life later.

In brief, from Milan, D and I moved to Troy, NY. We are still here. We had a baby. S is the most adorable baby in the world, but then look at her parents. I submitted my thesis. Still waiting for a defense date, but I FINISHED MY THESIS!!

I think I shall maintain this blog. I have of course lost all my blogfriends...wonder what happened to them?? I am not really a nomad anymore...well, at heart at least. We still travel loads, but for me, home is where D and S are. I am still wondering...so yes, I shall maintain this blog. And now, I introduce to you...S.



Note: While very much a princess, we do not normally dress her as Princess Leia. Only for Halloween...

Milano...non

I have been here 3 days and have not seen a single Milano sight!! Am getting itchy feet...Good news is the presentations went well..again, if I do say so myself. Yesterday was hectic as had back to back presentations and after a lunch spent having yummy roasted vegetables and light pasta while trying to look interested and charmed as others around me discussed data sets, variables, chow tests and ordered logit models, I discussed a paper presented by a rather yummy Italian academic (of course this is an objective observation as am a married woman).

I am in love with the words Prego, Allora and Grazie. I use them liberally...then have to apologise when others think I am Italian and start conversing in the beautiful language. I want to die and be reborn in this glorious country!!

I have one more discussion this evening. Tonight, my good fuddy (this is not a typo) will be driving down to Milan with another fuddy of ours and we are hitting Milan tomorrow..big time. Shopping with them will be fun as they WILL tell me that my ass looks hideous in a pair of jeans and they will do their best to persuade me to part with hard earned bag to get that adorable purse. And we will ogle Italian men over a huge bottle of vino...