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



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

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

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



Child-Rearing Roulette
"PARENTAL POINTERS" GIFT SET

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


and



Straightlaced
JOHNNY'S SOCKS - SET OF 6

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


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


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

Anyone want a house in Upstate NY?

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

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


Our soon to be ex-home

Our soon to be ex-dining room

Our soon to be ex-living room

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

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

For example:

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

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

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

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

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

On the road again...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reduce, Reuse and Recycle

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

Dilemma

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

Belly ring Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sashakins

Sasha enjoying her crawl Dec 2006


Sasha and her Daddy Dec 2006


Sasha learning to enjoy sand Dec 2006


Sasha and her Tok Dec 2006

A closer look...

Qutub Minar Complex, Delhi

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

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

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

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

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

Chicago...again

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


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

What's worse...?

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

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

Some 3am thoughts...

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

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

Delhi: 1 December to 4 December

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

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

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

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

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

Good neighbours

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