Rainy day

It has been raining for a while. Quite a relief as the rain will melt the snow, and boy do we need the snow to melt. Better for it to melt slowly, over time, than suddenly when the weather gets warmer. If that happens then we will be able to test how waterproof our basement is.

I was planning to head downtown to get a few things, such as a maternity swimsuit, a red top (for a dinner we are attending with the Bono Red theme) and a waffle maker. However, in view of rather dreary weather, I think I will just look for my swimwear and red top around here, and postpone my quest for a waffle maker closer to Sasha's birthday party. The only reason I am looking for a waffle maker is to make waffles for Sasha's birthday brunch. D and I decided that we will just have the neighbourhood gang over for brunch (yes, I know, again) and cake to celebrate Sasha's birthday. She is, as you may be aware, only a 2 year old that we have raised to have low expectations of us and as we have many more years of birthdays where clowns (I personally hate them, I find them creepy and my mind cannot differentiate a clown mask from the mask worn by Jason in Friday the 13th) and bouncy castles may be the order of the day we are keeping it simple, extremely simple. If she is lucky, she may get some balloons from the Party Shop round the corner. Not too many as we have to maintain the low expectations. Luckily for me, Mr Maximalist-anything-for-my-uber-cutest-baby-girl-in-the-Universe will be at a conference until Friday night, so I will be able to implement my Minimalist-because-you-are-too-young-to-care-or-be-eternally-grateful-to-me-your-life-giver decor for Saturday's brunch. Orange juice, coffee, scrambled eggs, waffles and bagels have been well tried and truly tested, so if the formula aint broke....


Yesterday, R, W's Mum called and asked if Sash could go over to theirs to play. L was going to be there with S. I had been trying to put Sash to bed for a couple of hours. She did not want to take her nap but she sat in her bed for 2 hours flipping through her Dora books (at times like this I truly deeply love my child....). So I figured why not. We went over, had cheese and crackers, talked about baby names, summer maternity clothes (I have already bought my maternity shorts and tank tops), nasty tent-like maternity swimwear (taking their advice, I will forgo maternity swimsuits and get a bikini that has a low rise bottom), babysitters etc while the kids played, hit each other, cried, apologized, did cute things...the usual. While R, who is extremely waspy, chatted about her answering the phone in Mandarin (she worked in Taiwan before), L apologized as she had to get S home to feed her dins and she herself had to get ready for a show..she was modelling in Toronto Fashion Week last night. After she left, R groaned about putting on weight and how it must be great to be a model. I told her I gave up my life long ambition of becoming a supermodel after I turned 18 and realized that no amount of starving myself would make me shoot up from 5'2 to 5'11. I decided then that law school was my fall back. We had a good laugh and I went home to bung dinner in the microwave and toss a salad. Tomorrow we have another playtime at L's. She has invited everyone over at 9am. I told her that I will come over on condition that she have coffee ready. I am semi-human before my first cup of Java.

I like my neighbours. They are a fun group. Having moved around quite a bit, we are very much aware of how lucky we are to have such a great bunch of people in the vicinity. Having said that, we cant attribute it to luck alone. My old friend asked me during lunch last weekend how we decided to settle in this neighbourhood. TO is such a vibrant and diverse cultural city that any new settler has a multitude of types of neighbourhoods to settle in, about 140 known neighbourhoods in the city itself. Lets not talk about the many many outlying suburbs where admittedly you can get more square footage for your Canadian dollar. You can spend your life looking for a house. How did we luck out? Well, we did alot of groundwork and research. D had lived here during his student days so he roughly knew where he did not want to live. This is also the GTA, which is the 5th most congested region in North America, with 5.5 million currently, and expected to rise another 2.5 within the next 10-20 years. It has the 5th most congested roads in North America, with LA in the lead. We knew we had to compromise space and all spare cash for convenience. The look of a house you can change with a good builder, location is invariable. We wanted to be near public transport. We especially looked extremely closely at demographics, including age, gender, ethnicity, household income, education levels. While we wanted to live within the culture and diversity, we did not want to do this at the expense of safety and Sash's educational opportunities. We narrowed our list down to 4 neighbourhoods only, and with a list of requirements and measly budget, directed our agent to only look at houses within these neighbourhoods. We were in the States then, so you can imagine what a pain it was to have to head up to TO, spend a couple of nights in a hotel, look at 10 houses in one session (after rejecting 3 times as many from the list emailed to us by our agent) dragging Sash in and out of the car the whole day, and repeating this over the course of a few months. As with all aspects of life, luck also came into play. Our home came on the market at the right time, we had a kick-ass agent who clinched the deal (and trust me, we have dealt with some dodgy agents) and the neighbours we have correspond to the demographic charts we relied on rather heavily. I think we have all gravitated towards each other because we are all in the same boat, yuppies in a previous life, now with 1.5 kids, having taken on an astronomical mortgage and therefore having to economize (Vintage for kids is a badge of honour), trying to get as much adult conversation yet still conversing about our child infused life, basically just getting a grip of how our lives have changed even before we were able to say "Huh? What the..." . Now you can imagine why the thought of possibly moving again just makes me sick....

Question of the day

Does washing down my pre-natal vitamin with coffee nullify the benefits of the vitamin, or the alleged ill effects of the caffeine?


Sasha is speaking in full sentences now, which is great because now we can have conversations. For example, this morning:

Sash: Daddy, where soothie go/Mum, where paci go? (She is semi-bilingual...she speaks Canadian and proper English at home)

Us: I don't know. Lets go look.

Sash: Okaaaaay (sighing). We go downstairs?

Us: We have to change your diaper first.

Sash: NO Diaper! No diaper!(And then while on the changing table) Cream, cream!

(Now downstairs) Sash: There's paci, under the couch. Thats mine. Carry you, carry you. (Which means carry me)

Us: Sash, we have to put on your ski suit now, we have to go to daycare.

Sash: Outside! Outside. Thats my boots. Mum, where shovel go? Where Dini?

Us: Dini has to dodo upstairs Ok. Here is you shovel.

Sash: Thank you. Bye Mum.

We had an old secondary school (high school) friend over for lunch yesterday. She lives in a suburb north east of Toronto with her husband and 3 sons. She is also preggers and her fourth child is due approximately 2 weeks before PD's ETD. We had lunch at her's before Christmas so it is ironic that we were both sitting at her dining table then wholly unaware that we were both preggers. She is hoping for a girl, and after spending the day with 3 very well behaved yet boisterous boys aged 7,5 and 3, we are rethinking the whole wanting a boy issue. They are a different breed altogether. We are also now THOROUGHLY CONVINCED that 2 is the LIMIT. Well, for me 2 has always been the maximum, and I would have been happy with Sash, but D was as yet uncertain...hmmm, maybe we should have had the boys over for lunch last November. He was so affected that he called his Dad to ask how having 7 kids did not drive him absolutely insane...hahahaha..FIL said "What makes you think I'm not?". Having said that, Sash was having a grand old time trying to keep up with the big boys (and yes sweetie, you will be doing this your whole life), wanting to mimic their every action during our walk to the park after lunch, from throwing snowballs into the stream to jumping into every puddle she came across. She was so taken with them that she even tried to get into their minivan as they were leaving...and to think we were worried about her socialization at one point.

We are planning to meet up again, hopefully soon. Probably during the Summer after we have both delivered. Her Mum will be flying in from USJ (a suburb outside KL)to help with her confinement, and as she will be confined at home for the duration, we will be the ones going to hers as I will not be allowed outdoors. If all goes as well as Sash's delivery, we will be back in Sherwood Park for our walks as soon as PD is home. She did ask me what I am doing confinement wise, and she seemed surprised that I am not following the traditional route in that regard. I, on the other hand, found it rather curious that she would be going through all that trouble and expense to stick to a tradition which really is only practicable if one has the required support system (cook, masseuse, nanny etc). She asked me if I wanted her Mum to get me some massage oils and herbal baths for me. I had to decline nicely and explain (again nicely) that it would be slightly challenging for me to entertain Sash, take care of the newborn, and still take time for a herbal bath. And I really don't have the time, or inclination, to take a "Massage yourself" class. Very sweet of her to offer though. She also asked if I am at least restricting my food intake to confinement food. As I have no idea what the heck confinement food is (apparently contains lots of ginger to heat the body), my food intake will be restricted to the many restaurants in the area that deliver, preferably sashimi or penne arrabiatta, and as for the heating the body issue, it will be in the middle of August for Gods sake..nature will heat my body fine. I get the feeling that she disapproves of my non-conforming to appropriate post-natal behaviour. I however would rather poke my eyes out with blunt wooden chopsticks than eat ginger infused bland food while under house arrest at the height of Summer. Ok, maybe I will relent slightly and check out the Shiatsu massage center round the corner.

During lunch, we were chatting about the boys' personalities. Friend's hubby mentioned that while on a Disney cruise they took a few years ago, the boys were asked to pick one toy. The eldest chose a Minnie doll, while the other 2 chose Mickey dolls. Hubby tried to persuade eldest son to choose a Mickey instead. He refused. Hubby is relieved though that eldest son recognizes that his choice may have been sissy-fied (in his own words) and he only sleeps with Minnie when he is alone and hides it in the closet when visitors are about. I generally do not criticize anyone for their parental strategies, but I just laughed and said that it is strange that he would think that way. If it were my son, I would be much happier that he sleep with Minnie than Mickey. Heck, a Barbie would even be better. I just said this on a lark, but I think Hubby plans to go straight home and hide the Mickey dolls. D told me later that night, as we were having our hot cocoa, that PD can sleep with a cross-dressing baboon doll for all he cares. Just as long as he never feels the need to hide it from anyone....

This is what happens when Sasha is left to her own devices for 5 minutes...



She loves to draw with markers, especially her purple marker.



We had not anticipated her experimentation with body art. Luckily for us/her, the markers are washable.



She is ignoring her Dad as he reminds her rather forcefully that she is ONLY to draw on paper. She has so inherited the ability to zone out and think of England while being told off from me..this is what they call Karma.

We were thinking of giving her a time out, but we have yet to find a new time out corner. We discovered last night during a time out that she found a spot from the corner where she could sit and watch the TV from an angle, in effect making her time out rather entertaining. She continually drives us crazy, but damn she's entertaining.

We all went to the pre-natal clinic yesterday for another check-up and the second part of my blood work. The first part confirms that I do not have syphilis (does this still exist??), or any other nasty downers, that I have immunity for chicken pox, which will also protect PD (previously known as PJ but I am so over Javier and now the #1 preferred name is Dylan) and that there are no concerns as yet. They are still not taking any chances so on April 3 I will have another more detailed ultrasound to detect any spots in bladder or water in brain, that sort of thing. And oh yes, if I want to know the sex I can probably find out then. If??!! I don't think Dr S is aware of my penchant for instant gratification, how waiting for 9 months for something is bad enough, and not finding out the sex would probably drive me insane. It will be fun to find out the sex of PD on Sasha's birthday. It will be a second birthday present for her. We bought her first present at the Art Expo last weekend, an oil on canvas. We will hang it on her wall...I think...we have it in our living room now and it is beginning to look right at home there...hmmmmmm..





It is a painting of The Foxes, a group of islands in Georgian Bay, which is gorgeous, popular, therefore prohibitively expensive, cottage country close to Toronto. It may take us decades of extremely hard work to afford a piece of Georgian Bay, but at least for Sasha's second birthday we can give her a piece she will be able to take with her wherever she lands in her future.

Randomness

I am quite disappointed with NY Governor (former NY attorney general) Eliot Spitzer's alleged implication in federal wire-tap transfers involving the hiring of call girls in Washington on Feb 13 (I wonder if he ordered some flowers for his wife for Valentines day while he was at it). I liked Spitzer. I think however he should have hired NY based call girls and arranged to meet in NYC. I mean seriously, isn't he supposed to help the NY economy?

Yesterday, while I was walking down Yonge, a man came up to me and started speaking in a foreign language. I told him I could not understand him. He kept on talking. I finally said "No Hablas Espanol" as he looked Latino. He then said "No, are you Filipino?" I felt like responding Dude, if I am would I have just told you I did not speak Spanish? But I just said, No, sorry (why I apologized I have no idea) and moved on.

Yesterday morning, D called me at home and asked me to get a babysitter for dinner as we had to meet M and another regulator from Montreal for dinner. D obviously has never had to locate a babysitter in such short notice. I called the usual suspects, they were busy. I asked a neighbour for a few names that could be counted on short notice. She had a good one but she was on holiday in the Bahamas (I asked how much she tipped her babysitter??). But she also gave me a number for another neighbour who has a teenage son and daughter who babysit...they live about 10 houses down so it is understandable that I have no idea of their existence. I called. The Mum, K, called us back at 5pm to tell us that the kids were on holiday in France (seriously, I am in the wrong line of work, or rather non-work) but if we were really desperate she would watch Sash for us...what are neighbours for. For a split second I was about to politely thank her for her kind offer and call up D to tell him to go for dinner on his own and make up an excuse for my absence. I knew this woman from Adam but I was just so desperate that I found myself thanking her for the offer, giving her our address and telling her that we would be back by 11pm. I rationalised my decision by telling myself that she would not make such an offer unless she was sincere. If she wasn't, then lesson learned that you shouldn't make random offers. She arrived at 7.30, Sash cried a bit, and we left for the subway, all the while discussing how random acts of kindness can make a difference in people's lives. We came home at 11.15pm to a sleeping girl and a new friend. I am still wondering whether we were extremely lucky last night to have made contact with K or that such kindness is around us but we just, either due to pride or the fear of inconveniencing others, don't take up such opportunities. Later this afternoon, D and I are going to get a huge bouquet of flowers for K, who refused payment last night. Next week D and I are going to talk to another neighbour to ask them if they could watch Sash when I go into labour in August. They may be reluctant to take on the job, or they make agree without hesitation. Either way, no harm in asking.

I was actually well and truly stumpped this afternoon. Let me start from the beginning. D and M, who flew in from Sydney, had a meeting downtown this morning. They have another meeting this afternoon at the Uni. Instead of going through the torture of looking for parking, and not to mention paying the price of a small Indian car for it, D decided to take the subway downtown and drag M back here to get the car and head out for the next meeting. As they had some time between meetings, we all decided to have an early lunch at our local Italian, La Vecchia. We love the service, the food, and more importantly, the fact that they open for lunch at 11am. It was during lunch that M asked, "So, what are you working on now?". I have done some consulting work for his company so this was asked in genuine interest. And for once, I was stumpped. Previously, I could tell him that I was working on my thesis, on defending my thesis or on another paper. I went through my mental list of stock answers, which admittedly didnt sound overly convincing even to myself. I told him I was working on looking for a job. He pointed out that I am pregnant, not particularly hire-able, and hence I cant be working too hard in that regard. I mentioned that I am working on some data, although that is such a catch all excuse for post-docs. I told him about this grant I am trying to apply for for post-doctoral funding from the Dutch government. But again, that isnt really a project. Bt what was I supposed to say, that I basically do fuck all, other than entertaining one child and marinating another, my life really is boring as batshit. I look forward to things like The Toronto Flower and Garden Festival on Wednesday, and my doctors appointment on Thursday to get me out of the house. I wake up, toast a bagel, have my coffee, check email, blog, read blogs, read a paper, do other stuff, spend 20 minutes trying to figure out what I can cook for dinner which will only take 15, repeat, and Bobs your uncle, its time to sleep. Seriously, even as I am typing this I am wondering, what the hell do I do the whole day, every day? Does anyone else have a problem accounting for their time? Or is this just a personal issue? Should I worry about my lack of activity, or should I just come up with a couple of more interesting stock answers like ..I am trying out each and every Jamie Oliver recipe, or I am working on the great Canadian novel. Yes, I think thats the way to go. I shall spend the rest of the day thinking of quirky, interesting faux projects. That should take up a few hours.

Record breaker

The brunch was great fun. We do have some leftover croissants and blueberry pancakes, but just enough for tomorrow's breakfast. The kids played well together as did the adults. The main topic of conversation: The record snowfall. In TO, about 30 centimetres of snow is expected to fall by this evening, putting TO in line to qualify for its all-time snowiest winter. The record, set in 1934, is 207 centimetres. Prior to this weekend's snowfall, the city had 170 centimetres of snow. Seems ironic that we push our clocks forward an hour tomorrow.

The main gripe: The bloody shovelling .

Since we had too much to eat at brunch, we thought we would have a light dinner. Popcorn prepared by D. Of course, as soon as we zapped our dinner in the microwave, we receive a call from a good friend who just flew in from Sydney. He is staying at the Royal York and wanted to visit us. So we told him to hop on the subway as the roads are just treacherous, and D met him at our station with the required weather appropriate gear. As soon as he stepped foot through the front door, he boomed "You idiots left Sydney for this fuckin weather??!!". Yes mate, we question our decision sometimes.

The morning after...

Sash loves Thursday night because that is our TV night. We cheer as the worst Idol contestants are voted off, and then we watch back to back Lost. On a certain channel here they air the previous week's Lost episode before the new episode, with text commentary outlining how certain aspects of the scenes are related. Brilliant! So on Thursdays instead of taking her bath at 8-8.30pm, having a slew of Dora books read and bedtime sometime after 9.00pm, we forgo the bath, take her upstairs at 10, read her 3 books and put her to bed by 10.30-11. D and I sit down and analyse the episodes, trying to figure out who the 6th Oceanic survivor is. I say Micheal (if Ben is not counted and Aaron is), while D thinks it is Locke. Suffice it to say she reaches her daycare on Friday morning in a zombie like state. And this will continue until the Summer. Which cannot come too soon. We had a major snowfall a few days ago, and reports are in to expect another 30cm over the weekend. Luckily we have no solid plans this weekend other than to have brunch tomorrow with our neighbors. I am thinking of keeping it simple with lots of coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice (by this I mean freshly squeezed by our friendly neighbourhood market), croissants and pain au chocolate, homemade blueberry pancakes with homemade strawberry syrup and maple syrup (this is Canada), scrambled eggs and sausages. And of course cheese sticks for the kiddies. Talk will most probably center around the new proposal by the Liberals to allow tax deductible contributions of up to $5000 per annum to RESPs. RESPs are children's education funds which are allowed to appreciate tax-free, and the govt also tops up up to $500 per annum to encourage savings by parents. Contributions are currently not tax deductible, and there is a lifetime limit of $50,000 per RESP, but if the proposal is approved it would mean massive tax savings for those in the middle class especially. If we max out the contributions at $10,000 per annum for 2 kids, we could save more than $3500 in taxes per annum. Tax rates are extortionate here, at 35-40% per annum. The argument is that whatever loss of revenue to the govt will be made up by more highly educated children in the future. We really hope this proposal is approved because the tax savings would just be such a bonus. Granted, we would max out the RESP limits even without such savings as we calculate that it would cost us approximately $400,000 for Sash and PJ to be given the freedom to choose any college they want to attend in 18 years, even an Ivy League US one. We of course hope that they choose to study where D works because then tuition will be waived and we will convert their education fund to our own enjoy ourselves till we drop dead fund.

On Sunday we are thinking of checking out the Toronto Art Expo as we are looking for a piece to liven up Sasha's room. We have been looking at some kiddie art decor, you know the type, mass produced cute-sy animal prints on canvas that still cost around $200 each. At that price range we would rather buy her something that will age as well as she presumably will, but nothing too expensive because then we might as well put it on our bedroom wall. Luckily for us, our house is extremely tiny so wall space is precious, hence we have to be extremely picky about what goes up. Hopefully we can find something cheap and cheerful. Just like us.

Ben, you made my week....

This is the most hilarious video I have seen in ages..mind you, it made offend some.

I decided this afternoon that I would clear out the junk cupboard built in under the basement stairs and convert it into Sash's toy closet. We dont buy her many toys, but she receives many stuffed toys from her grandparents, aunts and cousins. We do try to ensure that she is allowed gender neutral play so for every doll, she also has a car or instrument. She has both a doll house and a train set. I felt that we were being swamped with toys in the basement and as it is not only Sasha's play area but also ours, I thought it is about time she had a place to store her toys properly and that they be organized in some way.

I started by moving every single paint can in the cupboard into another cupboard in the downstairs loo. Then everything else was cleared, either chucked into the loft or the trash can. I vacuumed the space and covered the shelves with some batik cloth I have lying around (Terengganu batik, no less) with the aid of a stapler. I cant paint due to my condition so covering the shelves with bright prints was the next best solution.

I present you, the new toy haven...

You know why I hate it when D has jet lag/is insomniac..well, he forgets that he is alone on that boat. Well, he either forgets or totally chooses to ignore the fact that others, mainly ME, are happily sleeping away. So I get woken up in the middle of the night only to be asked if he is allowed to drink his hot chocolate in bed or to switch on the light to read. Does he not realise that if had not woken me up he could do all these things without my knowing/caring? Sometimes I think that marriage is an institution dreamed up by men to save their kind from the effects of their inane behaviour. But for women, cats would rule the world.

The weather s above freezing today...yay. Sash will be happily greeting Spring soon.

I found out this morning that a dear dear friend is being induced tomorrow morning. I cannot wait to welcome Bubba (no, not the name to be chosen, although wouldnt that be a shocker) Wetmore into this crazy wonderful world we live in. Have a safe ride down that canal buddy!

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.