D is still jet lagged so as a result I keep weird hours too. He went for a run at 4am, tried to sleep at 6am, gave up and decided to start the day at 7. I felt I had to keep him company so I too woke at 7am on a Sunday to join him for coffee. Sash woke up soon after and was up and ready to start the day. We decided to take a walk at the nearby Mount Pleasant Cemetery. After the walk we thought of heading home to have some breakfast but Sash, probably suffering from cabin fever, refused to head home so we thought it would be a nice change to head to a diner for a slap up breakfast. We thought we were the only ones out and about until we entered the closest diner we could find on Yonge, about 2 blocks away. It was packed to the brim with people who looked alert enough. Breakfast was cheap too..well, less than $20 for two persons, but we spend that much for 2 coffees and pastries at Starbucks anyway. We had so much fun enjoying the good food and absorbing the buzz in the diner that we have decided that it will be a new family tradition, a nice long Sunday morning walk and breakfast after. After breakfast we thought of heading home as D was about to doze off post coffee, omelette, toast and home fries, but again Sash was not about to be stuck at home. She toddled about round the block for another 20 minutes before she decided that she had had enough. We finally headed home...where she insisted that her daddy Dance with her. I like Sundays..

How do I vote? Part 1

I have been a registered voter in Malaysia ever since I was eligible to vote. I have voted once, but missed voting at the last election because I was too late to register myself as an absentee voter. I strongly believe that having a vote is a privilege that should be exercised, even though the pickings are slim. So last week, I called up the high commission to get the necessary forms. Received them today. As I was filling the forms up, I noticed that they required a witness to attest that I am not some random foreigner seeking to vote in the Malaysian elections. No problem I thought. I would just get a neighbour. Wrong! It has to be a Malaysian citizen over 21 years of age. So does the Election Commission assume that all Malaysians travel in pairs? All Malaysians, the minute they land on foreign shores, seek out other Malaysians? Or that they live within a 100 mile radius of the high commission? I have been advised to look for a Malaysian to act as witness. The only Malaysians I know here, all 3 of them, my dry cleaners and an old school friend, gave up their citizenship ages ago (I am beginning to understand why). What do they expect me to do? Stake out the nearest Malaysian resto and accost someone? Even if I do find some random Malaysian strolling down Yonge and Eglinton, the Election Commission does not guarantee that I will be registered regardless of their receiving and approving the form (as stated on the form itself). I have to check the register itself and in the event I find that I am not registered, I am to refer to the Pejabat Pilihan Raya Negeri. Seriously, do they not understand the concept of ABSENTEE VOTER?? Why the hell make me do all this if I cant even be sure I will be registered?? So I have come to the conclusion..the only absentee voters that seem to be able to vote are the dead ones.

I love Skype. D and I use it to keep our roaming bills down, although with it being free we end up just hearing each other type out emails as we remain connected for ages, while saying nothing. Sash finds it strange that she hears Daddy, but cannot see him. I use it to have quick chats with friends who are awake across the globe. Like last night when I Skyped my fuddy in London. We chatted a bit about my pregnancy, whether I was showing, how I am on a quest for a cute bikini or bathing suit to last me the Summer (His advice: go for the bikini). He is going back to KL this weekend to renew his visa so we went on about my own bureaucratic saga (US, Canadian, no My Kad as I cant bloody pick it up can I?). How much KL has changed and how materialistic everyone is, having no qualms about spending thousands of pounds (lets not even try to convert that to Malaysian Ringgit) on a handbag, throwing huge parties in hotel ballrooms for first birthday parties, making the class distinction in KL very obvious like in Jakarta, and how the culprits are the same people we used to socialize/party with. Did we both do the right thing by jumping off the money making band wagon to lead the simple lives we do now, or did we just fall off to be left behind. Were we that shallow or are we still shallow but jealous? Fuddy and I both joked about how we now mainly live in sweats and have not been shopping for ages. This is not really a deviation for me, but for Fuddy, well, I have been his shopping bag carrier in London, NYC, Milan, and Zurich. He never shopped in KL (too expensive as sales are crap) and he introduced me to the joys of the Armani Outlet just outside Milan. he can't shop because he want sto save his money for his dream, I cant because we are mortgage poor. We talked about his reluctance to go back to KL, to be judged by others who define success and happiness by the number of zeros in their bank accounts (or overdrafts). I told him to just ignore their snide comments as everyone knows that their husbands are out shagging either their secretary or their own fuddies during those business trips, and that any asinine clown can spend their lives successfully spending Daddy's hard-stolen money. Do I sound catty? Is there such a thing as reverse snobbery? Put it down to being hormonal...

We joked about the the upcoming elections and placed bets on being able to vote from abroad. We chatted about his coming out this way to scope out potential restaurant sites. How September would be a great time as PJ will have popped (I hope he does not arrive early like Sash as Aug 8 would be THE WORST TIME to deliver here as the hospital will be PACKED by preggy women of Chinese descent trying to push their babies out)and we can do a Fall appreciation road trip. We talked about the Spice Girls concert in London, and how yes, Sash is a bit too young to attend the SG concert in Toronto tonight. We discussed food. This is a favourite topic as Fuddy left his high powered job in Zurich to train as a chef. He decided that on his deathbed, would he regret not working harder to buy that pair of Prada loafers more or not trying to achieve his dream of opening a restaurant. He left his vast wardrobe, some of which I helped lug around, in KL and abandoned his Prada loafers. I left my work for another reason, mainly my absolute and total loss of trust of the powers that be in Malaysia. I figured if the powers wanted to run the country to the ground, I was not about to become a part of it, and definitely not help, and so I decided to move away and take a break. Anyway, back to food. When I last visited Fuddy in Zurich to give a presentation, he had to fly to London for the day. After a long day, I arrived home to a message taped to the oven. Before he left for his meeting, he had cooked some rice and made stuffed baked fish, Malaysian style, for my dinner. He did not want me to go hungry, and he would be back after dinner with a bottle of Marmalade from Fortnums. I swear, if I were not pregnant with another man's baby and only recently married, I would have proposed to him right there and then. We ended the call with lots of loves and kisses. I asked him if he is happy. He said yes. Me? Very.

When D isn't around, I eat this for lunch and dinner. I dont bother cooking real food for myself. Sasha doesnt eat anyway, although I do try to prepare fish fingers or spaghetti for her dinner. She only wants her milk unfortunately. Luckily we keep track of what she eats at daycare and that makes up for her refusal to eat at home. I have run out of my Maggi Asam Laksa supply, which I will replenish in April when I head back to KL. This Korean brand however is simply delicious. I cannot imagine life without instant noodles. I suspect I would starve to death. So would D as we eat the stuff ALOT...I have him convinced that instant noodles is a staple Malaysian dish..like Mac and Cheese is for them.

It is snowing again this morning. Expected to last awhile. I am just so sick and tired of shovelling that at this moment I really couldnt care less if people started slipping and cracking their heads wide open in front of my house. Go ahead, see if I care. I am not shovelling. Well.... maybe I 'll do it later, blood stains are notoriously difficult to remove from concrete. On the bright side, when I woke up, or rather was woken up by a rather rude little girl demanding milk, at 6.15 am, I heard chirping birds. A sure sign that Spring is coming...maybe in 6 months by the looks of things..but coming nevertheless.

If I am having a boy, he shall be named Javier.

D is off to HK for a week. I am keeping the panic at bay with a strong cup of coffee. I thought of having some breakfast but all we have is cereal at home. D's cereal, and they all contain chocolate chips. I suppose I shall have to venture out and get a bagel. I have no idea how I am going to entertain Sash for the next few days. D is a much better playmate. I think I shall top up my coffee.

This afternoon, other than looking for cereal without chocolate chips, I am heading out to get some documents notarized. Last Friday we finally received some feedback on Sash's citizenship application, which we sent in last October. It seems we sent in the wrong forms. Instead of applying for citizenship, what we were supposed to do is apply for the citizenship certificate. This is what I find confusing. She is currently a US citizen, so would the first step not be to apply for the citizenship before the document to prove citizenship? Apparently not, as she is technically already a citizen. If you think this is confusing, you should check out the PR application process. So the new application requires that we send in her original documents. Not bloody likely. God knows how long her passport will be held in limbo. An alternative is to get copies notarized. So the notarization fee will cost 4 times the application fee. Sigh...

Luckily PJ (Potentially Javier) will not have to go through this. Well, unless we move back Stateside.

Par-tay

Last night, we left Sash with M, our regular babysitter. We prepared her for the experience by telling her over and over again that a playmate was coming over. When M arrived and the pre-departure briefing was done, Sash took M down to the basement to point out everything that was hers or rather "Mine!". Obviously she was setting boundaries. We opted to take the subway downtown instead of driving. The party we were invited to was being hosted by a German colleague of D's who was celebrating his first year anniversary in TO. He was single and lived in a high rise condo downtown. The trip downtown only took 25 minutes and we didn't want to be too early so we decided to have a drink at the Fairmont Royal York before walking the 5 blocks to the party venue.



It was fun being out and about on a Saturday night, something we haven't done for ages. We don't undertake this very N.American thing called Date Night because, well, for various cost related and basic laziness reasons. It isn't that easy to get a babysitter, and at $12-15 an hour, plus tip and cab fare for the babysitter, a night out can add up even before we order the entrees. We don't see the point of going out to chat amongst strangers when we do it every night at home after Sash goes down. We used to do this over a glass of wine, but now it is over a cup of hot cocoa. And we are not too fussed about food so if we want to eat something different, we just order in and set the table with nice cutlery, light the candles and eat away. Hence the strange but familiar sense of "freedom" last night as we walked amongst the Saturday night revellers.

The party was swinging by the time we reached his 42nd floor condo. I must have spent the first 15 minutes enjoying the view, before setting out for the obligatory mingling. D's colleague is an SRI guru so there was a rather good turn-out among the faculty. I have attended a few of these parties yet find the interplay among colleagues most interesting. Being academics, conversation tends to revolve around data sets, the politics of publishing and juicy gossip about other academics (Did you hear about so and so being caught double dipping (sending a paper to two journals simultaneously).the shame..his career is over and has been asked to resign). The same conversation heard at conference dinners and casual parties. The lecturers will usually be among themselves as they are already in academic Siberia. You know how some people say those who cant do, teach. Well, among academic circles (or among the cynical ones that I know), those who can't publish, teach. Your main aim post-Phd is to one day never have to see a pesky student. Phd students are slightly above the food chain, but this is dependant upon who their supervisors are. If they have a BSD (Big Swinging D^%k) as a supervisor, they can mingle with confidence as they will probably, depending on their publications during and shortly after their Phd, never become a lecturer. Others that are not so lucky will plant themselves between other Phd students and other assc and asst profs who may be able to get them published. Asst profs will network and try to figure out who has what papers where, and whether there are any new projects in the offing. They will laugh at jokes told by Full profs, and extra hard when jokes are told by assc profs who hold chairs and are known to publish in FT list journals. Note that Full profs are at the top of the heap, assc profs with a chair slightly below, both have tenure hence are in the money regardless of what they do or if they publish anything else, but assc profs will still have to have a few more decent publications to become Full, or move to another Uni to get Full. And no, nobody wants to become dean as that would entail useless admin work. Admin work and teaching are considered to be the bane of staying in a research position. In fact, my Supevisor (who was a BSD..ehm) warned me early in my Phd years that I should not aim for high teaching rankings as that would signal to others that I am not concentrating on my research. The worst teachers get paid the most. (Remember that lecturer in Uni that you really liked cause he was always available in the office when you needed him..well, now you know) You publish, or perish. Your ONLY friend in this world is your publication record! So anyway, these Full and assc profs will talk/joke about their 2 day trip to Singapore or upcoming trip to, horror of horrors, Athens/Milan/Zurich, again..I mean, cant they find a new venue for a conference....loud laughter among asst profs and Phd students with BSD supervisors.

We told a few people I was preggers. And each and every one would look down at my tummy to, I don't know, check if I am lying. One wife of a BSD asked me if I did not think it a bit premature to tell people as I am only in my first trimester. Oh no, I said, I told people as soon as I was off the loo with the pee stick. She mentioned that some people just worry about other people's reactions if anything happened. I explained that I am of the view that if anything bad did or does happen, I would want my friends to know that I am grieving, and I expect phone calls, flowers, casseroles etc. I would need the support to get me through what I don't even want to imagine I would probably go through. For others that feel uncomfortable about the situation, well, to be honest I would probably have other things on my mind, namely ME ME ME, to be buggered about their reaction or lack of. So no, I have no qualms about telling people. Others asked if Sash was excited about the baby I told them that no, she still wants a doggie. I also told them that a few days ago I caught her arguing with her baby doll. She was pushing baby doll (I have difficulty choosing names for my own kids, I am not about to name their toys) around in the baby doll stroller when she realised she was in danger of rolling over her puzzle on the floor. So there was my daughter, the product of my genetic matter, lying over her puzzle protecting it from the stroller shout Mine! Mine! and telling baby doll off for something or rather, probably for daring to hurt her puzzle. That was funny enough, but became hilarious as I saw that it slowly (a bit too slowly actually) dawned on her that the stroller could not run over her puzzle all by itself. Baby doll of course just sat there. So she stood up, pushed the stroller around the puzzle, while still mumbling to baby doll. I was conflicted between wanting to laugh at my kid, feeling sad that she has to resort to quarrelling with a doll, and also worried that she was not going to take to sharing anything with the baby. Did I mention that her Dad has taught her this new game called Pillowfight, which she plays with her own dolls, thereby effectively smothering them. I pointed this out to D and he is now worried that we will be spending the first year protecting the baby from Sash. Another wife at the party told us about her kid who kept putting his baby sister outside. Another said the younger kid was more jealous of the older kid. All in all I can only hope D stops playing Pillowfight with Sash.

We had to leave by 10.25 to get back to pay the babysitter. We got home 5 minutes late, found Sash asleep, paid M, made some hot cocoa and sat down for a chat. It was a fun night.

I have just finished this..



..it was slow going, but interesting. It is more about what WE are doing to the world, and how the damage is pretty much irrepairable.

I also finished this...



...amazing how one man CAN really make a difference.

I am starting this...


...as soon as I can pry it away from D.

Bad Mummy, bad Mummy..

Sasha, don't touch Mummy's computer. You know I love it more than I love you.

I have just had a most awesome lunch. During the little one's nap I decided to cook my all time favourite dish, my idea of the ultimate comfort food, wait for it...sardines cooked in spicy tomato sauce and onions, accompanied by cut chillies and hot steamy rice. Some of you may have startd gagging. I however, really love this dish. And I know how to make it too. There are various other comfort dishes I don't know how to make, like this spinach like veggie thing in clear water-ry gravy, and another veggie dish comprising sour yellow water-ry gravy, both accompanied by rice and mandatory chillies. Luckily for me I can just about handle the sardine dish. My dad likes his with an omelette. I prefer mine unadulterated. My Mum forbids the serving of sardines at any mealtime, so we only have it at home when she is away. D hates it. After lunch, I started cooking dinner which will be braised lamb shanks on rice (leftover from lunch). It will take about 3 hours in the oven, and I am beginning to feel like it is my nap time. I am as yet unsure whether I should switch off the oven and continue cooking after my nap, or check that the fire detectors are working and just let the dish remain in the oven. For some reason, I feel that I have done bugger all today.

Psychic

Last weekend, I left Sash with Doug for a few hours, for the first time ever, and attended a Psychic party my neighbour R was throwing. Yup, some people have tupperware parties; my neighbour has psychic medium parties. It was $70 for a one hour session, and we were told to "invite" any spirits we wanted to be there in the morning. Of course I asked R how one goes about inviting spirits as if I knew how, would I not be the one making the 70 bucks? It seems it was more of a casual request than a formal invite. Ok, I can do that. I told R, I was not too keen on inviting spirits like my Mum as I would think that she would take the opportunity to lecture me about all my shenanigans, and to be lectured in front, or rather through, but wait, it would technically be 2 people lecturing me..hmm..of a strange(r) medium would be rather embarrassing. R reassured me that spirits from that side are non-judgemental and so no, no one she knows has been lectured. I kind of like these secular spirits. So friendly..

The reading was in R's study and the psychic (P) had her computer and mike set up as the session would be recorded on a CD. I liked that my psychic was also technologically advanced. The first thing she said was "Did you know that there is a spirit that is with you alot?". No, I didn't...hence the me being the one paying you. We were able to suss out that it was my Mum and we sort of went from there.

To transcribe my reading here would be an absolute pain, so I will just provide the more interesting bits. Baby is a boy (She saw a little boy around me). He will be introverted, and not as needy as Sasha. He will be smarter than his parents (Not difficult to achieve, I snorted) and he will love the sciences. He will require stimulation constantly and therein lies our challenge. Sasha has a gift of communicating with animals (but not in the Dr Doolittle sense), is sensitive to their needs and wants to heal them. This I found struck a chord as she really, really does love animals. This trait she did not get from me or D. We should surround her with animals to ground her. (Not happening as I am allergic to cat/dog hair). She will have an affinity with horses and we should get her riding as soon as we are able to. Now, here is where I have another problem. In addition to my morbid fear of chickens, I also dont like horses very much. I was kicked by a horse at my 5th birthday party. P told me that I was not to worry about Sash and horses as she would not get hurt terribly by any animal. (I wondered how she knew about my fear of kicking horses). Reassuring, but still not too sure about the horseriding lessons as they are usually held in cold, smelly barns. And I thought sitting through future ballet lessons would be an absolute pain..

P told me that we will not be in TO for long. I did not want to ask her for how long as I didnt really want to know. I like to pretend we are staying put somewhere so I dont feel like I am in transit always. I did ask her where next, and she said West. I asked her to be specific as West to us could mean Perth. Vancouver, she said. We will remain in Canada. Good thing as I just spent ages completing my PR application, and there are worse places I guess...

Another spirit joined us. P described her and I told her I had no idea who this was. P was surprised as this spirit was quite keen on telling me something..P insisted she was a blood relation, wore glasses and had 5 kids. I was again not very helpful. P asked if Mum was my bio Mum. I said no. She asked if I knew my bio Mum. I told her I met her once but cant tell her from Adam. If you weren't blond, you could be my bio Mum for all I know, I told P. She said the spirit was my bio Mum, I was the last of her kids. Which reminded me of the one and only time I saw bio Mum at her home. I was 12 and she had all these really young toddlers around her, with other people older than me hanging about. Didnt think much of it then but perhaps they were her older kids. I have never been overly concerned about bio Mum but I asked what she wanted to tell me. P said that she advised me to take care of my teeth as when she was preggers with me, her teeth went to pot, and that my baby will be taking alot of calcium from me. My first thought was, Good to know, then it occured to me: Wait a minute, this woman gave me up at age 10 minutes, never bothered to see how I was doing, and in our first communication EVER, all she can say is TAKE CARE OF YOUR TEETH??!! Bloody hell, my life just got more bizarre...

Then Mum, not bio Mum, told me (thru P of course) that she was happy. Note that being the sceptic that I am, I did not divulge much to P so I was rather surprised that she picked up quite a bit from the spirits. Such as Mum died young. Mum said that she was greeted by her Dad (she was very much closer to her Dad than her Mum so this made sense), and that she was glad to be free of her pain. Mum also took credit for getting Sash to sleep on her own, as she often reads and sings to her, kisses her on her forehead, and surrounds her with an aura to lower her blood pressure so she would sleep easier. Ah, so that explains the sudden change in Sash. We used to have to lie down with her for hours just to put her down and what seemed like overnight, now 90% of the time, we just have to put her in bed, read to her her 5 Dora books, put on her music box and she puts herself to sleep. It may take her an hour to actually doze off, but she will stay in bed and just chill. Whatever or whoever the reason, I wonder if she can now work on getting Sash to eat more...

Lots more was discussed on work and marriage issues, but that shall remain private. The reading ended well and I was quite satisfied. I went in a sceptic, and admittedly while not a total believer, I felt reassured after the reading. I am one of those people who appreciates that not everything in this world can be explained and that sometimes, you just have to go with the flow and believe in what makes you feel better. After the reading, as I was chatting with P and R's husband about the baby (he is quite happy that our baby will be born approximately 2 months after theirs..a potential playmate), I joked that I had requested that my epidural be given while I am filling out my paperwork at the hospital. P turned to me and said, very seriously,...you wont have time for an epidural. This one will come out very fast and promise me that the minute you feel you are in labour, get to the hospital as fast as possible. Also, stay away from water. No cruises. Hmmm, considering that there is no way in hell I am going to deliver a kidney stone, much less a baby, without an epidural, and that in April, I am already planning an island cruise around Langkawi Island, I am going to put her statements post reading and payment as non-psychic. I believe what I want to believe.

So I went home to find a very frazzled D giving Sash her 8pm bath at 4pm (he didnt know how else to entertain her) and told him we needed to get a hairless cat or dog for Sash. He laughed and reminded me that we live in Canada.

I needed to get some fresh air after lunch (pasta puttanesca and not sashimi platter as anticipated). Ended up window shopping. As a Family Day present for Sash and Baby, I bought this....



Its this all-in-one learning system for toddlers which is a new arrival at my fave kiddie shop round the corner. I just found the idea so simple, yet ingenious. I had to get it especially since it was only $39.99. Basically, this bag is divided into 4 sections, one for each of the basic skills: alphabet, numbers, shapes and colours. Each section has fully coordinated teaching charts, flash cards, board books and foam puzzles.







Now, dont get me wrong. I am not pushing, nor expecting, Sasha to learn to read before her 2nd birthday. I do want to continuously stimulate her though. I believe IQ is part of a person's genetic make-up and I don't believe that forcing her to learn things at the level that I think she should be learning will help her in any way. I think it may just harm her actually. So for now we are just doing the puzzles, which she is enjoying. She has the attention span of a gnat so the flash cards are put away rather quickly. She will tolerate the books. As we do the puzzles and laugh as she tries to push an octagon into the triangle space with all her might, while I have no idea what she is thinking or what her IQ level is, I do know that she will do just fine in this world as she obviously has more than sufficient imagination and determination. And I believe very strongly that with enough imagination, and with determination, you can conquer the world if you want to.

Sasha is definitely a girly-girl. She likes to play pretend tea with her tea set. Well, it's not actually a tea set. It comprises 2 antique flower shaped small cups and saucers, more like espresso cups, I found in an antique store in NY for $1 each. Her teapot is a little white elephant shaped creamer I found in a furniture shop in Rosedale. She also likes to arrange the cushions on the floor, drag the lap throw to her pile and pretend she is having a sleepover. I am however never invited into her play world. Her Daddy has had tea with her many times, and he is invited to "dodo" with her on her pile of cushions regularly. He is her play mate, while I am the one she goes to if she wants help with a puzzle, or to read a book. Not that I am complaining. While she was dancing and having tea with her Dad last night, I was able to watch Shopgirl, the movie with Claire Danes, Steve Martin and Jason Schwartzman. I really liked it. I didnt really like the ending as I hated Jason's character..all that oil in his hair.....and I found Steve's world weary and damaged character so very endearing in a way. I think I will get the book.

It is Family Day in Ontario today. It is a new public holiday promised by the current ruling party during the last elections. (Do not ask me anything about the political parties in this country...I cannot vote so do not see the point of caring too much as cant really do anything even if I do start caring..like the US elections..I will only start having opinions once a candidate is voted in because really what is the point of spending too much time analyzing the various candidates when I CANNOT VOTE?) People have mixed feelings about this holiday. The day care is closed, and Sasha is beside me watching TV so I am none too happy with this inconvenient holiday. D's visitors from Quebec are also not thrilled with the Uni being closed today so they will be working here at our dining table as they have a deadline. The weather is horrid so everyone is basically hunkering down at home for the long weekend. Some can't get off work so have to take their annual leave to take care of kids. No, this Family Day is not a good idea..well, having it in February is not a good idea. The Visitors have insisted that in return for the use of our dining table, they will buy us lunch. I am pretty sure though that they probably thought "Holy merde, D's wife is going to cook again...zut alors, we must find a way to escape..". But hey, regardless of their motives, I am having sashimi today..yay.

First check-up:Part 2

During my first check-up, DrS asked how long my first labour took. I told her, all in all, about 14 hours. Used Demerol for about 7 hours, then epiduraled the second leg. She warned me that this next one may probably take half the time, barring complications. And I will also be pushing for half the time. I told her I only pushed for 23 minutes. She was rather surprised, and told me that I should expect to halve that for the next one. Wow, I thought, 10 minutes...that's great. What if I felt like having a poo during labour? She told me "Oh, we'll definitely be watching you". Reassuring, but creepy...

First check-up

I woke up early this morning to make my first obgyn appointment downtown. I decided to go with an obgyn DrS, who is with St Michaels's Hospital for two main reasons. It is a first rate, smallish hospital affiliated with the University of Toronto that specializes in women's health care, and it is situated downtown just off Yonge and Queen, a stone's throw from The Eaton Center and a few subway stops away. If I am going to be traipsing downtown by subway at least once a month all bloated and preggy, I might as well get some retail therapy while I am at it. Went in for the usual pee and see (you always have to pee as soon as you get to the office), but this time I was given a cup with a dipstick, a key to the ladies and told to stick the stick in my pee, and only pass them the stick if it changed colour. Which was quite different from my first experience Stateside where I found it rather unsettling to pass a nurse a cup of pee. I swear I must have wiped down/washed cup three times, every time, before passing the cup over. Felt much better just chucking everything once I established that dipstick did not change colour. The doctor was very professional and explained that I was to embark on the first of the series of tests that I would take, which is the Prenatal screening for nuchal translucency. Simple enough to do as an ultrasound will be taken to measure a potential collection of fluid behind the neck. If they have any concerns then I will undergo the maternal serum screening, tests for spina bifida and other neural tube defects, and possibly an amniocentesis. But today it was just another ultrasound and blood work. We couldnt tell the sex but we should be able to at the next ultrasound in about 5 weeks. DrS asked me how I prefered to deliver. I told her depending on the weight of the baby I would prefer to have a vaginal birth with an anesthesiologist waiting for me when I check in the hospital, the IV in place while I fill in the forms. None of this waiting for me to be 5cm before administering bullshit...I want to be drugged up, and drugged up good. She laughed and said she will look into it. I like her already.

My favourite Valentines..

Conversations

I was never one of those girls who dreamed of getting married, who planned their wedding(s) at age 8, and who thought marriage would complete me. I didnt want children. I quite enjoyed serial monogomy. I couldn't imagine being tied down to one person forever. I thought that seeing the same person everyday would just bore me to death. While I still have doubts about this whole concept of marriage and lifelong commitment, I cannot say that being married to D will bore me anytime soon. A sample of our conversations at home this last week...


On laundry

Me: (Shouting from basement) D, you do realise that I do the wash once a week, on Saturdays?!
D: (From dining table, doing work)Uh-huh
Me: You know this has been going on since January...don't you?
D: Uh-huh
Me: So can you explain to me why I am only washing 4 pairs of your boxers?
D: Oh, yah...I think that's because I only have 4 pairs...
Me: Huh? So what do you do the rest of the days? No, wait....I don't want to know.
D: Hmmm, well.....OK, I'll just go to Gap and get a couple more
Me: Yah, you do that....Wait..are you wearing..
D: Bye honeybunny..(Slams door)
Me: ...underwear....


On cooking

D: I'm hungry. Can you cook me some of your noodles please? Oh wait...maybe I should watch you so that I know what to do next time..
Me: (In total shock as we have been eating instant noodles every week at least twice a week for, like, forever). I'm not feeling great. Can you cook it yourself. Noodles are in the pantry..
D: Cool.
Me: Take small pan, fill 3/4 water..
D: Filtered or unfiltered?
Me: Your choice..
D: Ok.
Me: Put on fire, put in spices, wait for water to boil, put in noodles.
D: That sounds easy enough. Wow, like now I can cook us dinner. (Minutes later). OK, noodles are in.
Me: Put in an egg
D: Ok
Me: Uh, break the egg
D: Oh-oh.....

I have a Googleganger (Similar to that of a doppleganger, it is another individual with the same name as you whose records and/or stories are mixed in with your own when you Google yourself: www.urbandictionary.com). She is funnily enough a little 3 year old Malaysian girl who also has a blog. As she is pretty young, I assume that the little wisecracks accompanying the pics on her blog originate from her Dad. I have always liked my name (well, first and last, hate my middle name). I hope she likes hers.

I was watching TV with Sash this evening. She is only allowed to watch the Treehouse channel as it is a channel catering exclusively to Pre-schoolers, so they air age appropriate non-violent mushy sentimental/educational cartoons with morals and ethics. I am convinced that had I access to this channel as a child I would not be the morally lax, ethically challenged degenerate that can curse like a sailor that I am. I would also be able to differentiate a tepir from a tree sloth. They are also not allowed to advertise junk food and toys, so I dont get tempted by junk food, and D by toys that crash together. So as fillers, they advertise upcoming shows and specials. Like the special day on Feb 14th, which is Friendship and Caring Day. My first thought was...huh? What happened to Valentines Day? Then it hit me..political correctness. Some people dont believe in St. Valentine. They didnt advertise Christmas either, it was just Happy Holidays. I suppose this will placate the multi racial and multi denominational Canadians. I am beginning to realise where D gets his political correctness from...and why he doesn't understand my Malaysian blase-ness about race. I remember when we were visiting KL he would ask me why I would for example say "so, we should go to that stall (the best food in KL is street hawker food sold from roadside stalls) with the Chinese guy" instead of "so, we should go to that stall with the man wearing the red shirt". I told him because the other seller sold satay and he is Malay and another Indian. And D asked, but why refer to him as Chinese. My response, because he is, whats up with you??. Cant we just eat this nice Chinese fried kueh teow in peace? After a while I realised that D assumed that by recognizing race as a differentiating factor, I did this in a derogatory manner. I explained that this is far from the case. We are all Malaysian but unlike in other countries, we are not the many races and religions melted into one pot. I mean, could there even be such a concept? Malaysia is more like a trifle...obviously made up of various layers, but also beautiful and harmonious as a whole (damn, now I feel like having some trifle). We are able to hold on to our cultures and beliefs because we are ABLE to practice them alongside others. This is the Malaysia that I know...it may not be what is experienced by many..but this is what I know and feel. So while I am glad that Sash is being taught political correctness, I am equally relieved that she will one day be able to experience and understand the Eid, Chinese New Year, Depavali and Wesak. And she will appreciate that while her Mum prefers Chinese Fried Kueh Teow over the wet Malay fried kueh teow, it doesnt mean she is not appreciative of her Malay culture (and food). She is just appreciating the joys and benefits of being Malaysian (OK, now I am officially hungry).

For the first time today, we drove the 500m to Sash's daycare. Apparently there is a severe weather warning as the temp outside is -18 but with wind chill, feels like -31. Note that I don't bother with the Celcius or Fahrenheit because to be honest, by the time it hits -10, I couldn't care less (Although technically, it is only when it hits -40 that Celcius and Fahrenheit are the same). So I have declared today Do Bugger All But Drink Hot Chocolate Day. I will stay home, maybe do some work (huge maybe), read a book (still waiting formy Amazon orders), but all in all it will be do bugger all but drink hot chocolate day. Having said that, even as I type out my plans, I am getting claustrophobic and itching to take a walk. Maybe after I run out and get my paper I shall embark on my do bugger all but drink hot chocolate day. But since I am out, why not walk the extra few blocks to get a bottle of wine for a dinner we are attending on Saturday. It should be an extra nice bottle as the couple, who are as yet unencumbered by snot producing beings, have very nicely invited Sasha along. They live in an apartment downtown facing Lake Ontario, the ones that I would have chosen to live in but for the whole backyard and good schools criteria. They are vegetarian. Well, he is vegan and she, I think, wants to marry him so she is semi-vegetarian. Extremely sweet couple. He is English and she is Continental European, and they are both academics. She is pretty much in the same boat I am in that it is very very difficult to get an academic job if you are geographically constrained. Unlike me, she is able to widen her horizons to the US, as they are willing to commute. D and I talked about this but it just seemed impractical as Sash (and now bub) would have to be based with either one of us and she is too much of a creature of habit to be shuttled back and forth between a house and a flat somewhere. Ah well, the search goes on...

I will of course have to disclose that I am preggers. We haven't really told alot of people, well, because we don't know alot of people but mainly I get a kick when I see that "Is she preggers or has she gone all fat??" look of uncertainty on people. I believe that the one and only safe time to ask a woman if she is pregnant is when you see the head crowning. So I like to wait and see if some people are able to help themselves from being rude. Some are but you just see them itching to burst. But I find that at dinner parties, as I turn down that Lychee martini or glass of red in lieu of a glass of water or juice, I can sense the lightbulb going off in the hostess's head (usually the hostess as the host will just assume I am nice docile designated driver wifey) and I know I have to put her out of her misery....or sometimes D will turn to me and ask "Can I tell them?". What can I say...No?...how rude would this be while I am munching on their cheese and olives..so by then before I can say the obligatory "Of course (smile through grited teeth)..hahaha" they are already toasting their own selves to guessing correctly. This will probably repeat itself until I deliver the baby at some dinner party when at last someone can safely ask "So, are you, uhm, pregnant?" as the baby crowns..

A few days ago, I noticed from my live traffic feed that I had a reader from Parit Buntar, Malaysia. Boy did that open the memory floodgates. I have lived in many countries, in different cities, but I spent most of my childhood in this little town on the border of the states of Penang and Kedah. But it is actually situated in the state of Perak. Pretty much like Basle, but far from it.

My earliest memories are of my experiences in my maternal Aunt's house which was situated on the main road which led to Butterworth, Penang. It was a brick and wooden structure, with a huge balcony on the second floor, set far back from the main road. The land was seperated from the main road by a parit (drain), and so to get to the house, you had to drive your car over a rickety little wooden bridge. Until today, I can still hear the lorries (semis/trucks) passing by on the main road at all hours, making the ground tremble as they sped by. Ironically, the sound of street traffic doesn't bother me today. I find it rather soothing. My aunt had a fruit orchard and raised chickens behind her home. She would take me along in her little car to buy chicken feed...and again, if I try hard enough, I can smell the grain and corn and what not that goes into chicken feed packed in huge hemp sacks. I also now have an irrational fear of chickens as I also remember being chased by a few rouge chickens gone amok. I was pretty tiny back then so the chickens were relatively huge. I remember picking eggs, fresh brown warm eggs, and local Malaysian fruits like rambutans, mangoes, cikus (looks like a kiwi but tastes very different), and mangosteens, eating them right under the tree.



My parents were working in Kuala Lumpur and they would visit ever so often. Funnily enough, I was so accustomed to my aunt and uncle, and their kids, that it would take me a few days to figure out who these interlopers were. I knew I liked them because they would take me to the local "posh" restaurant for a Banana Split, and to the playground which had a huge metal climbing structure shaped like a rocket. I could have lived in the playground if they let me. I remember thinking the huge drain in front of the house as a river. While I was fed cabai (hot chillies in Kedah-slang) and nyok (coconut milk), I was also read the complete works of Enid Blyton at bedtime. And so the drain was a river, and underneath the chicken coop, my secret hideaway.

The last time I visited the house, I was 12, and my Mum's funeral was being held there. She is buried at the nearby mosque, along with my grand-dad, and other ancestors. My aunt passed away a few years ago, and the last time I saw her was during a short visit to my cousin's house in Penang in 2000. She did not recognize me. Today, when I do hink about the past, which is not very often, I think of her not as the shell of a woman that I saw last, but as the energetic lady who would spend ages haggling with the local towkay (chinese shop owner) over the chicken feed, who would spend the afternoon with me on the balcony, smoking her cheeroot, and who was such a strong presence in my idyllic childhood. As I type this and look out to my snow filled backyard, I wonder how I got from running around the chicken coop screaming for someone to save me from the psycho chicken, to here.

I have just finished reading these 2 books. I really, really enjoyed them. Highly recommended. I am now looking out for this book..



Still snowing outside. Sasha down with some mysterious bug that caused her to puke last night/this morning at 3.00am. Rather scary as she was literally choking on her puke. Dread to think what would have happened if she had not cried out before she puked. Suffice it to say that sleep was impossible after that. On the bright side, I was able to finish the books and start reading/amending page proofs for a forthcoming article in a good economics journal. Funny thing about getting to the page proofs stage...while you are ever grateful for having the paper accepted, you start cursing having to read a paper which you have been working on since 2004 yet again.

You know whaat I hate more than the blood and urine tests I have to take over the next few months? Its the waiting for the test results. I got a call from my family doctor yesterday afternoon asking me to come in for a follow up. They had my test results back. I initially made the appointment for Friday morning as Sash would be in daycare then. D was a bit apprehensive (he is more of worry puss than I am during preggy season) so he decided to leave for the airport later than planned so I could go in to see the doctor while he stayed home with Sash. Luckily the doctor's office is just 2 blocks away so they were able to fit me in quite easily. He told me everything is fine, hormone levels up to some 80 thousand digit, and referral will be made this morning. The only issue is that with my finding out so late, I may have a problem having the first trimester scan thinggy test done, where they measure the neck of the foetus to determine the possibility of down syndrome. This can only be done up to 13 weeks, so I may be too late, although they would prefer that it be carried out due to my age. I am not overly worried as I am amendable to having every test possible, even the more invasive ones so while it may be too late for this test, I am pretty sure many more will come. Waiting for test results is just as bad, if not worse, than waiting for the baby.

There are two things we can do during heavy snowfall...we can either sit at home, and mope while we wait it out, or we can walk down this street



and head to this park



to go sleddding

All better..

Sasha's vocabulary is growing leaps and bounds...as they say, toddlers at this age are like sponges.

Some words she knows:

Llama, Horsie, Cat (meow), Dog (woof woof), Wolf, Sloth, Ocputus (not a typo), Whale, Bat, Buttew-fly, Ewephant, Zibra, (She watches alot of Diego, Animal Rescuer, a popular cartoon), Milk, Tiger, Juice, Twee, Dowa, Boots, hat, scarf, jacket, Squiwwel, pasta, rice, chicken, ducky, water, boat coat (this is her life jacket that is practically glued on her over the summer), doug, mama, mummy, mom, daddy, baby, downstairs, etc...

She has started speaking in sentences...she will say "Carry you" if she wants us to carry her, "Milk please", although she shouts this so doesnt sound overly polite, "Thank you" and "Yor wecom", "No Dodo!!", "Bye bye (add in Mama, Doug, doggie, other name)", "Change diaper", "Dance Daddy", "More book", "Dini and paci??","Open light", "My chair" (and "My (everything else))", "Again! Again!", and "All better".


I cleaned the house last weekend as we were having guests for dinner. So far we are maintaining status quo..even after Sasha's play date with our neighbour, W. He is getting a younger sibling in late June, so his Mum and I are helping them with sibling expectation management. His Mum, a trained child psychologist who has opted to stay at home, bought him a couple of dolls to prepare him for the new addition. She also believes in gender neutral play. We are also preparing Sash for the arrival, pointing to my tummy and telling her about baby. Unfortunately, she indicated "No baby...doggie". Houston, I think we have a problem...

So in view of this rather momentous house cleaning...I present you, parts of mi now clean casa...the rest of the time we live like slobs






All better...

7-8am this morning...

Our front yard




Our backyard

We woke up to the aftermath of a rather substantial snow dump. But life goes on, and Sasha has to be bundled up for daycare.




And people have to get out to work. The beauty of living in a city that gets lots of snowfall is its capability to handle such things. I read somewhere that TO spent $67 million last year on snow removal etc...

Surprise surprise

I went in for my first consult with my Canadian family doctor this morning. In ON, you have to go through your family doctor for EVERYTHING. For example, before I can get on board with an ob/gyn, I have to have him refer me to my potential or intended ob/gyn. Although all I am actually looking for is a person to catch the baby when it pops out, I have spent the last week calling around for one that is taking in new patients (not alot are..and the ones who are I find suspicious) who will be delivering sometime in the near future. Each receptionist kept asking when I was due..and all I wanted to scream after the third day of calling around is...For Gods sake, thats what I'd like to know!! What made this hunt more difficult was that I was limited to doctors who have attendant rights at hospitals with NICUs (Neonatal intensive care umits), and there are only two in TO. You never know, and i am not taking any chances. I finally found one, but they required a referal asap, with ultrasound and bloodwork. In the US, this was done by my ob/gyn, so this whole system is rather alien to me...oh wait, I am the alien. So in I went this morning. Told me that I had to get blood work and ultrasound done the same morning as he wanted to send the referral tomorrow to ensure that I would meet the quota for the ob/gyn for the month I am supposed to deliver. It has to be said, that while there is no universal healthcare in the US, as insurance holding patients, we were treated like Gods. I feel like I am in a socialist country here, without the two tier health care system.

And so it began. One thing they never tell you about pregnancy is that doctors will be hounding you for blood and urine day and night. Vials and vials of the stuff. After the blood letting, I had to wait an hour and a half for my ultra sound appointment. And in that time I had to fill my bladder. It was touch and go during lunch as I may have filled it way too early..but I held on for the scan. I was rather looking forward to it as I am still in denial about the whole preggy situation and was still kind of hoping that the test we took at home was tainted. Turns out however that in addition to confirming that I am indeed preggy, ultraman declared that I am in my ..wait for it...12th week. I kid you not...here I am thinking I am perhaps 3 weeks pregnant at the most....and my first trimester is over...go figure. I am quite chuffed as I am supposed to present a paper in Amsterdam in mid September, and initially I thought I would have to cancel it seeing as how I may be in the delivery room, but if I really am due in early August then the presentation can still go on..yay.



I introduce you...the second cumming.

Cupcakes

I had an urgent craving for a cupcake this afternoon. Since Doug was at home (the Uni declared an emergency closure at 11.30 this morning), I insisted we walk to my idea of heaven which is 2 blocks away. He was up to walking in a snowstorm, but not for only 1 cupcake. So I had to, was absolutely forced to, get half a dozen. So I chose the Yonge and Eligible, the Curious George, Sleepless in Toronto, Mango Madness, Frost Me and last but not least, the Lemon Drop. Unfortunately, I had to share my stash.



We had some for desert too

I read an article in the paper this morning and I just cannot stop thinking about it. Basically, 2 sisters, one three year old and the other a year old, were found dead in the Prairies frozen to death. In -50 weather, they were found wearing only diapers and T-shirts. Their father had been drinking heavily last Monday night and panicked when something, possibly an illness, struck his youngest daughter just after midnight. With no phone to call for help (they live on a native reserve), he tried to run to his sister's house, 400 metres away, but never made it. He did remember dropping his daughters as he ran. Four hours after he left his home, a hypothermic and frostbitten father crawled to a neighbour's door and banged until someone woke up to help him. The RCMP said that when they arrived, the father couldn't communicate, and it wasn't until eight hours later in hospital that he asked about his daughters, setting off a massive search that led to the discovery of the two bodies. Fuck. Abandoned in -50 weather. Thats all I can say...fuck. I cant even express the sadness that I feel. How they must have suffered. I keep getting these mental pictures of the 2 girls, but with Sasha's face superimposed on theirs. I suspect this story is going to haunt me for a while.

A snowstorm is expected in the GTA (Greater Toronto Area) tomorrow. Aproximately 21 cm of snow expected. The roads will be treacherous and weather conditions dicey. Regardless, even if I have to do it in zero visibility, Sash will be in daycare! Doug is trying to cancel his meetings and we are thinking of postponing a dinner that we are (or maybe were) planning to cook for a couple of visiting fellows from Montreal/Quebec City (I forget). When I say we are cooking dinner, I mean me of course. Doug cant (wont) cook to save his life. Last night I asked him to do me a favour and stir fry some veggies as I had to write the conclusion for the paper. He looked at me like I had asked him to climb Mount Everest stark naked with a carrot up his arse. I told him for Gods sake, slice some onions, heat the oil, cut the veggies intio any shape you want, fry the onions, bung the veggies in, and leave for 2 minutes. How bloody difficult is that? He offered to order take out veggies. I pointed out to him that I cooked the chicken curry and the rice (OK, so the curry was Brahim add water and rice is cooked in rice cooker...but thats not the point...the point is I have a lazy ass husband who refuses to learn how to cook stir fried bok choy)so the least he could do was the veggies. After a few minutes of the deer in oncoming semi headlights look, I gave up and cooked the damn veggies myself. Why oh why couldnt I have hooked up with Jamie Oliver?? Why??

To make up for last night, Doug took charge of dinner tonight. He heated the Seafood Mediterranean chowder, on the stove even, and not in the bottle in the microwave, and put the sushi and sashimi pieces on a plate. We had hot chocolate for dessert. Cant complain I guess...the last time Doug made dinner we had slightly burned popcorn and cold apple pie. There is hope yet...

After reading this article in today's Globe and Mail, I finally decided to bite the bullet and buy a bunch of Bisphenol-A free, non Polycarbonate BornFree bottles from my favourite kiddy shop round the corner. It may all be media hype, but when there is even a slight mention of cancer risk, ADHD risk and other neural, reproductive and developmental problems, it is difficult to ignore. Also, being in academics, we know that whatever research is published in the popular media is probably rather dated and the tip of the Titanic iceberg. Both Doug and I have a family history of cancer, and while it is rather wrenching to buy new, and I must add rather pricey, bottles and sippy cups (whats up with that?? I thought less chemical were used. so shouldn't they be cheaper??), it is a small price to pay for peace of mind. I suppose it does not help that I have a (real) doctor brother in law with toddlers of his own and a father in law in pediatrics who have specifically warned us against warming up our plastic bottles in the microwave. They told us ages ago to warm her milk in glass containers then transfer the milk to her bottle. Since their warning, we have been doing this up til today, which I must admit is a bit of a bitch at 5.30 in the morning. Luckily the warning came pretty soon after Sasha switched to whole milk, which was when we started warming up her milk in her bottles in the microwave. Before that, we used water at room tempreture to mix her formula. Todays warning about bottles exposed to boiling water was I suppose the straw that broke the cheap camel's back. When I say wrenching, you have no idea to what extent. In my morbid fear of having to deal with colic, I used a variety of bottles from Avent, Dr Brown and Playtex inserts, in the hope that at least one of them will help prevent the dreaded sleep thief. I must add that in addition to variety, I bought in bulk as I hate doing dishes as much as the next person. Sasha of course did not get colic and I have a cupboard full of bottles (well, used to..I now have to learn to deal with only 4).


And did I mention all the sippy cups, both normal drip free and insulated ones with characters on them? So I also bought a non-leaching stainless steel sippy cup for Sash (in gender neutral green, so the bambino will be able to use it later). I now have to decide whether I should call a local Goodwill to ask whether they will accept these items as I hate to see them go to waste. Having said that, knowing that I dont find these bottles and cups safe enough for my own child, how can I in good conscience pass them on to another child? I discussed this with the proprietor of the kiddy shop and she mentioned that she donated them to Goodwill as many parents in TO cant even afford basic baby equipment such as bottles, what more the more expensive less toxic ones. I am still undecided about this and will have to discuss this with D, although I know he will not want to pass on unsafe items to any child. On the bright side, I can stick the bottle in the microwave tomorrow morning!

I have just finished vacuuming the house. Ok, technically only parts of the ground floor and the basement. Parts I can see. I decided in late 2007 that I am going to be less anal about the mess of a house. Whats the point? Doug dumps his running clothes everywhere else other than the 2 laundry baskets in the house (he can run for miles, but God forbid he has to walk 3 extra steps to the basket)and Sasha, well, you would think that by the age of 2 a human being would be able to put away toys in a color coordinated fashion...sigh...not as evolved unfortunately. So, there you go. To maintain my sanity, I will learn to live in filth. If my family cannot evolve, I will devolve to their level.

Doug and I are working on another paper, which is due 1 Feb, so yet again Sasha has been put on the back burner. She is usually the first to be sent to daycare, and the last to be picked up. You can just see the look of disapproval on J's face as she knows I don't work, I only have one kid at home (we haven't told her about the bub, although we will have to soon to book her space at daycare), and yet am the one parent most filled with glee (and relief) as I take about 3 seconds to dump Sash off. Of course after 2 weeks of being totally absorbed in hedge fund regulation, we sort of accidentally glance away from our laptop screens and finally notice Sash's glazed-TV overdosed-eyes and feel a sharp pang of guilt. So, yesterday, to assuage our guilt, we took an afternoon off to walk to a nearby educational toy store and bought her some crayons, a pad of coloured paper, a little magnetic chalk and dry erase board with colourful magnetic letters of the alphabet and numbers from Melissa and Doug (I love their toys!), and some glow in the dark stars for Sash's ceiling(she loves stars!). Sasha chose a couple of Dora books for herself. We then walked to a restaurant, Spring Rolls, for a late lunch. I have been meaning to try out the restaurant as my dry cleaners, who are originally Malaysian, mentioned that the resto is owned by a Malaysian. I tried their nasi goreng and was impressed. I usually don't bother ordering anything which is labelled Malaysian as I am usually inevitably sorely disappointed, but in this case, I will go back (or have them deliver) and try their other dishes. Their spring rolls..yummy. I am rather relieved to have found a more than half-decent pseudo Malaysian resto within walking distance as I have been craving and dreaming of Malaysian food. I swear, last night I dreamt of fried Kuey Teow. I know, I know, I have friends who suggest that I just cook the stuff. I know I can, as I have been raised to believe that I can do anything, but I just couldn't be buggered. Its like I know I can be an astronaut (well, other then the whole motion sickness and fear of being blown up to smithereens issue), but I just couldn't be buggered to go through the whole process. I will wait for space travel to be cheaper and less strenuous, just as I will wait for my fried kueh teow. After lunch, we walked home, installed Sash's stars, read her books, taught her the alphabets (I am still not sure which I prefer, to have her learn the alphabets first or learn to put away her toys) and introduced her to the potty. On advice from J, who will continue with the potty training when the time comes, we have a seat insert instead of a separate potty for her training sessions. This way she will not be afraid of the real adult sized toilet bowl. Her insert is lime green and has pictures of the characters from Backyardigans. Unfortunately, she freaked out initially as we placed her on the toilet. It may be she was just afraid of the whole new experience, or it may be she freaked out about putting her ass on Tyrone, Pablo and Tasha. We will never know. So we sat, all three and an eighth, in the toilet, reading her book and reassuring her that peeing is fun. After 10 minutes, she finally peed. Her first pee...we clapped and cheered like it was her bloody college convocation...and waited for her to poo. After another 10 minutes of nothing and endless cheering on, we thought of taking our laptops into the toilet as there is really a limit to how fun you can make a shitting experience fun. We decided instead to just call it a day, let Sasha hang out in the basement, and continue working.

I was just reading yet another article on fundamentalist terrorism in a newspaper and as is usually the case, the journo touched on this quest to get to endless numbers of virgins in heaven. I sometimes wonder why anyone would want to have an endless supply of virgins. I mean, let us assume these suicidal psychos are young, impressionable, unmarried (presumably virgin) young men. If it were me, instead of having inexperienced, novice virgins fulfil the dreams that I am staking my life on, I would probably want the most nasty arsed most expensive call girls heaven can come up with. Throw in a couple of porn stars and I will be golden. Makes me wonder if the eternity of fumbling will be their just deserts.

As I type this, I am waiting for the Malaysia Airlines reservation agent in New York, who I am speaking to over Skype, to fax me a confirmation for my miles redemption and email me my payment options for our flights from Kuala Lumpur to Langkawi in April. Ah, the wonders of being connected. It is taking longer than usual as I had totally forgotten that Sash will be visiting with her Tok and Nenek while we are in Langkawi (Thank you Tok and Nenek for agreeing to grandbaby-sit!)and went through the whole booking process for her seat. The agent must must have thought I was absolutely barmy as I exclaimed "Oh wait..no...I forgot..we are not dragging her along this time!".

I was re-reading Vet in Harness by James Herriot in bed last night. It made me crave for roast beef sandwiches at 11.40pm. As I read, I just had to share this passage with Doug.

"Anybody who has ever walked a dog knows the abiding satisfaction which comes from giving pleasure to a loved animal, and the sight of the little form trotting ahead of me lent a depth which had been missing before".

We both agreed that it brought to mind our walks with Sash.

I have just finished these three books. Read them concurrently. Funny, a week ago I didn't think I could fit in reading anything not related to work/VC/PE, but with just a bit of tweaking with Sasha's schedule, I can now read!! Not just occupational reading, but recreational reading. Yay. Let me explain.



Sash has issues with sleeping alone. Our fault of course as she used to sleep in our communal bed. Now she has her own bed, in her own room, and she no longer likes ours. But that doesn't mean she no longer likes sleeping with us. So we usually take turns putting her down. This used to be chore as it takes her ages to settle down. She will first want to drink a bottle of milk, then read a few books, then play with her lamp, then read some other books, ask for another bottle of milk (distractional request), then she will try and "sneak" out of the room (she is as yet unclear of the concept that even when she does not look at me, I can still see her). We used to have to lie down for an hour to 90 minutes with her in the dark, trying to stay awake, bored stiff and resenting the whole child rearing experience. Last week I figured that with the new kid coming along, things will have to change. So instead of lying down with her, I sit in the glider in her room and read while she settles down. She still sees this as a license to carry out the same sleep-avoiding tactics, but usually after the third time I pick her up screaming and shouting, dump her into bed and scream "DODO" (she is in a French daycare so we use some French baby-words), she gets the idea and drifts off to sleep. Mind you, we start this exercise at 9pm and she sleeps by 10.30pm, but this is much more tolerable with my being able to get in some reading.


I couldn't put Persepolis 1 and 2 down. Intriguing, enchanting, and it made me think. I think about the Iran that I know from the media,that I think I know. I think about the Malaysia that I know, and what is reflected in the media. Disturbing similarities. Both situations not even remotely comparable (yet), but any ghost of a similarity is disturbing enough. When a reference to the year 2000 came up in A Thousand Splendid Suns, it made me think about what I was doing on the days leading up to New Years Eve 2000. I was preocupied with what to wear to a party. The characters were starving. I sometimes wonder if my luck will run out..

It is quite obvious that Sasha is half-Canadian. She loves the snow. She loves stepping in it, playing with it, rolling around in it. Good thing she does as a favourite pastime of Wpg-ers is tobogganing. Instead of ordinary slides in park playgrounds, they have toboggan runs. These pics were taken by Sasha's Aunt K as her Daddy would not have missed the action for anything. I was at home, warm and cozy. Didn't see the need for the whole family to freeze.



Although it must be said that it is quite obvious that one specific family member actually enjoys being frozen....


I have been busy online checking on flights, hotels, resorts etc for a holiday (or rather a visit) in KL in April. We as a family have done this many times but this time FIL is tagging along. So it has become slightly more complicated. Due to his recent surgery we felt it best to travel together so we can help him along the way. So instead of flying from TO, we are flying out of North America via Vancouver. What was initially planned to be a direct flight has taken a slight turn as there is a conference he would like to attend in HK. He would also like to experience the Malaysian beaches his son raves about...but he is not really a beach-y person and not overly mobile so it cant be an island with nothing else to do but laze. He might also want to check out the night safari in Singapore. Did I mention that this is to be done over 2 weeks? I have come to the conclusion that I will never ever wish to be a travel agent.

So I am looking at Langkawi, or Penang. And I am quickly realizing that since I left KL in 2003, either Malaysians are becoming very rich or the resorts are now way beyond the reach of ordinary working folks. Seriously. I am not even looking at the Four Seasons. The nicer hotels on Feringhi Beach in Penang which I fondly remember during those girly summer breaks in Uni days are now in the four figure range. And you cant even swim in the sea water there. The nicer hotels on Langkawi also start in the four figure range. Some do have decent deals, but only for the cheapest (ie no view, next to karaoke lounge) rooms. Which leads me to think that a normal middle class family in KL could either save for a couple of years to have a nice holiday or settle for a run down 3 star and below hotel, like the back-packers do. A friend recommended that I just take my FIL to Bali or Phuket as it is cheaper and they also cater for Asians, and not only for Europeans/North Americans. But I cant, can I? He wants to see where his dot-in-law was raised, to meet her family. He wants to see where his grand-dot spends her time every year. He wants to experience what his son has experienced. Now, if I had been a Thai foot masseuse I would not have this problem...

Sasha Multi-tasking

This is for Sasha's Tok. To further elaborate Tok, this was how your grandaughter entertained herself at her Grandpa's house over the Christmas period...she multi-tasked

I have been a neglectful blogger. I have no excuse other than being an excellent procrastinator. It is said procrastination is the thief of time. How true that is. Already it is mid-January and I cant say that I have done or achieved anything of note. I have my to do list somewhere, andI have been meaning to look for it..but you know, the whole procrastinating thing I mentioned earlier..

I should add though that I suspect that my mind has turned to mush because I am preggers again. Yup, as they say, the Sperminator has struck again. Unlike the first time around, it is taking a bit more time for us to let this news really sink in. We are happy that we are preggers, and we have been planning to provide Sash a sibling, but I think it is becoming more obvious that our lives will change yet again, just as we were finally settling down from the upheaval of Sash's babyhood. I know, I know, we had it pretty easy and I am the first to admit that I am an ungrateful little drama queen for making a mountain out of a mole hill, considering Sash was, and still is, an easy going, happy baby. But to be honest, I do find the whole baby rearing period just alot of work with no reward as in my experience, a baby is essentially a blobs who eats, poos and keep you up all night. I much prefer the toddler stage, when they can understand your instructions, and they can at least contribute to the conversation, even though it takes me 5 minutes to understand what Sash is saying. I suppose though to achieve this more entertaining toddler, we as parents must endure the babyhood. So, I suppose I should warn you dear reader that if you are expecting the whole "I love being pregnant, motherhood is the end all and be all of my life and babies are miracles" type of blog for the next few months, you will be sorely dissapointed. I hate being pregnant, I think motherhood is a chore, and babies are messy..and I will be venting. I hope this next one is a girl though as I have no idea what to do with Sash's old clothes if a boy pops out.

So now I have to find that to do list to add one more note...to find an Ob/Gyn that is accepting new patients, within walking distance or within walking distance of a subway station, and one who will not stop me from flying after my fifth month.