Star toast

Back in the BD days (Before Dylan), we used to wake Sasha up on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays by getting her dressed and carrying her to daycare, sometimes still asleep. Some days she would wake up before we got her dressed, but never early enough to eat breakfast. She would eat her breakfast at J's, as their first snack is served pretty soon after the kids start the day. I know, I know, we are bad parents, but in my defence Sasha is not a big eater and her breakfast mainly consisted of a small mini yogurt anyway. Not exactly the breakfast of champions.

Times have changed and now AD (After Dylan), Sash is more often than not woken by Dylan screaming for his 7am feed. And boy does that boy have a set of lungs. So after I feed him, Sasha and I start our day, me more reluctantly than her I might add. We are beginning to have breakfast which now consists of Star Toast.

First, and foremost, the chef has to be in position.



Once she is in position, her assistant chef lightly toasts 2 slices of 12 grain bread and spreads some butter and jam on both pieces of toast. While AC does this, C usually reads a book.



C is then in charge of the most important task, cutting out the star with a huge cookie cutter. She does this extremely well. Its a gift we think.





Enjoying her Star Toast (served on her new fave Miffy plate...thankyouverymuch Auntie Nina, Uncle Chris and Milla) and Diego.



Doesn't she look 2.5 going on 30??

Its snowing..

It is snowing as I type this post. Not heavy snowfall, but falling snow nevertheless. It just seems like yesterday when I took these pictures of Sasha..oh wait...it was yesterday! It is going to be a looooong winter...and we havent even planted the bulbs yet. Yikes...

18.10.08: Happy Birthday Doug

Last Monday was Thanksgiving Day here in Canada. We dont have family in Toronto so we decided to start a new family Thanksgiving tradition. We took a day trip to the small historic town of Elora and had the soon to be traditional Turkey lunch with all the trimmings at a nice restaurant facing the gorge. I love all food based traditions involving menus and waiters. We walked around the town after lunch and enjoyed the glorious weather. I love the Fall. The air is crisp, the sun shines and there are Halloween decorations galore. At that point in time Thanksgiving Day was all about having the day off and having Turkey for lunch.











On the way back to Toronto, traffic came to a sudden stop on the 401, one of the busiest highways in North America. We were able to stop in time, but in one split second, I heard a screech, looked at the rear view mirror and saw a U-Haul truck swerving and thought Oh Shit. Doug only realised something was wrong when he saw the look of horror on my face. We braced for impact. We were on the left lane (fast lane) so Doug swerved the car into the shoulder. When we came to a stop we immediately looked back and saw that the kids were OK. The guy in front of us also got out and immediately asked about the kids. The car that hit us, the one in front of the U-Haul was on the other side of the highway. The driver was being propped up by someone sitting in the back seat. The U-Haul had somehow ended up in front of the car in front of us, facing the opposite direction. An off duty policewoman who came to our aid advised us to get in front of the U-Haul as many accident victims are hit while standing next to their vehicle. An off duty fireman checked Dylan and Sasha for any injuries. Doug called the police, the fireman called the paramedics. The paramedics came and checked the kids out again. Sasha was right impressed with the Ambulance and was very upset that she was not allowed to follow it to the hospital when it transported the lady in the car behind us. Policemen took witnesses statements, which took a while as 5 cars were involved. Our tow truck driver towed our car to his lot and told us that it is probably a total write off. He then charged us 100 bucks to drive us home. Vultures they are.





We got home, made some pasta, watched some TV, put the kids to bed, sat down with our glasses of wine, and thanked our lucky stars that we were able to have our usual end to our day. It could have been us in the ambulance. Worse, it could have been one of the kids. Our day could have easily ended very differently. In one split second....We were reminded how very fragile our existence is. We have alot to be thankful for.

Randomness

Dylan had is two month check-up yesterday. He weighed in at 12 pounds 9 ounces and measures 25 inches. He also had his first shots yesterday. The screaming, the crying...and that was just Doug. Hahaha..kiding.

I caught Doug red-handed using my hairbrush as a back-scratcher. He looked as sheepish as he did when I caught him using my towel to wipe his hands after loo visits. I am now hairbrushless.

Ciao Ciao Milano

This was my second time in Milan. I first experienced Milan in 2005, although it feels like it was eons ago. I was then newly married, but travelling alone as D was in Shanghai for a few months. In 2005 I arrived a day earlier than the conference to get my bearings, and to get to know Milan. I headed straight for the Duomo and just sat on the steps just gazing in awe at the then being renovated Gothic beauty. I think I sat there for ages before realising that the Galleria was just across the Piazza. For the rest of the week, as soon as I could escape from the sessions, I would take a short stroll to the Piazza, have a latte and just savour the feeling of being in the shadow of the duomo. It was at one of the after session beer get togethers that I discovered that the Last Supper was in Milan. For some reason I had thought it was in the Vatican. One of the presenters was taking the day off, or skiving, to take in a tour which he had booked a few months in advance. Apparently, the release of the Da Vincci Code had made it almost impossible to view the Last Supper without planning a year in advance. I could have found a way to view the Last Supper then, but my Fuddy F was driving down from Zurich to join me for the Milan sales (saldi) and well, my priorities were different then. Fuddy, 2 other friends and I spent a whole day maxing out our credit cards at Prada, Gucci, Armani, eating gelato, drinking lattes, gorging ourselves at the antipasto buffet, and drove back to Zurich at midnight. We arrived at the Swiss/Italian border with a car full of sale goodies only to be met by the nicest and I should add best looking customs officers ever. We claimed out VAT, arrived in Zurich a few hours later, and I flew back to KL for my sister's wedding a couple of days after that.

It was very much different this time around. We arrived a day earlier as we usually do for conferences, but instead of rushing out as soon as we dump the bags, we had to first get Dylan and Sasha settled in. We were running out of formula fast so we had to scout the area for an open pharmacy before heading to the Duomo. For some reason, I tend to always find the one pharmacist that does not speak English so as usual I am using sign language to get my message across and taking a huge leap of faith that what I am sold is in fact suitable for my newborn. While I still found the sight of the Duomo breathtaking, I was more interested in Sasha's reaction to it. In the past, D and I would have found a cafe and shared a bottle of wine. Instead, we found a cafe, fed Sash her pasta and headed back to the hotel. The next day, while D was at the conference, I tried to do some shopping. Rather futile in view of two jet lagged kids. Our aim on this trip was to see the Last Supper. So as soon as we confirmed our flights to Milan I booked a tour of the dining hall of the the Santa Maria Della Grazie to view the Last Supper.


Santa Maria della Grazie


Sasha waiting for the tour guide to show up

D took time off his conference to take the tour and we agreed that it was indeed the highlight of the trip. The security measures taken at the church were amazing. We spent more time going through one air locked/vacuum sealed chamber into another than actually viewing the Last Supper. We were given 15 minutes in the dining room while the guide explained to the group why this Da Vicci mural is so valuable and culturally relevant. It was well worth the effort.

Amsterdam

My good ole morning latte

It was Dylan's first trip to Europe so we started with something familiar to both Doug and I. Amsterdam. Actually, you could say that it is also familiar to Sash as it is her second trip as a fully developed being, and third trip if we count invitro escapades. D and I find that we learn more about ourselves as people and as a couple during these trips we take. I think I fell in love with D and his sense of the absurd during our many trips together before we got married. In this instant, we learned more about Sash, in that she doesn't really like to travel. Well, not as much as we thought she did. But then we may have just been projecting. She has always been a good traveller, but I think she is at that age where she doesnt understand that travelling has its downsides...such as the actual travelling. Destinations are great of course. Flights are another thing altogether. We had a bad flight out due to it being a full flight. I had the bulkhead with Dylan but D and Sash had 2 seats behind us. D asked the couple next to me if they would mind switching as we were a family travelling together, and the said they did mind. To make matters worse, the third seat on D and Sasha's row was taken up by what I would call a clueless bitch of a whore. Sasha, unable to stretch out usually when she sits between us, could not sleep well and cried out when she kept waking up due to the discomfort. This bitch actually turned to D and shouted that she was trying to sleep and that Sash was disturbing her. At one point, when Sash was trying to find a position that would help, she accidentally kicked the bitch and it looked like she was about to strike. She again shouted at D to do something about Sash. D, by now about to hit the woman, just told her that for Gods sake, his daughter is 2 years old, and isnt SHE the adult. I know that we are not totally blameless as it was our decision to put Sash on a plane but everyone knows, if you sit near the bulkheads, you will be in family/children territory. I mean for fucks sake...hasnt she been on a plane before???!!

In comparison, on our flight back to Toronto, we were again separated. But when D asked the lady seating in the third seat the same question he asked the couple on our flight out, she gave up her seat and took the odd seat away from the bulkhead..obviously reluctantly, but she still did. And when D was rocking Sash to sleep (the Milan-Amsterdam-Toronto was especially hard on Sasha) another passenger passed him a pillow. And when she started barfing upon landing in Amsterdam, another passed D an open barf bag. I have friends who ask me how Sash and Dylan handle the travelling. I can only tell them that it is always a crap shoot. Some days are great, some horrendous. Some fellow passengers are bitches, some are angels. We deal with the situations as best we can, but it always helps when we get some help too.

Our trip to Amsterdam was eventful from the get-go. Upon arrival at the central Amsterdam hotel provided to us by the organizers of my seminar (NH Doelen..highly recommended..right on the River Amstel), we were picked up by Birthday Girl and whisked away on sloep. We spent the beautiful fall afternoon cruising the canals of Amsterdam as only the locals do, enjoying the even more gorgeous company.









The next day, while I gave an hour long seminar which essentially paid for my flight ticket and our Amsterdam hotel stay, D, Dylan and Sash spent the afternoon with Birthday Girl and her beautiful daughter Milla at a petting farm and had lunch at theirs.



It was I think the first time D had custody of both kids and he found Birthday Girl's support a lifesaver. While I was at the University preparing for my seminar, I felt a strong sense of dejavu...I was transported back to my PhD days, sitting in my office all day, hearing my colleagues speak Dutch outside my door, drinking weak coffee at my desk. Do I miss those days..hell yes. However, when I arrived at the hotel fairly full from a nice dinner at the Faculty Club and fairly tipsy from a bottle of nice vino, D and the kids waltzed in soon after, and all thoughts of things past faded.

We moved on to D's conference venue the next day. It was being held at a hotel in Soestduinen, close to Amersfoort and Utrecht. We took the opportunity to explore the beautiful city of Utrecht and especially the famous Dierenpark, and amazingly child friendly zoo.


Sasha at the Dick Bruna House. She was in Miffy heaven.


We had a view of the best golf course in NL


Sasha of course preferred her Dora


The closest I've ever come to a giraffe

The conference was fun and we were treated to another more "formal" canal tour in Amsterdam. I've been on so many of these...but it was the first time for our new Unit, extended version.





We left for Milan the next day.

Sasha's first visit to the dentist

She did surprisingly well at the dentist. I think the 6 bucks spent on the Dora Visits the Dentist book was well worth it..

Dylan is still not pleased with me. He will be even less pleased in a few minutes when I have to stick him the baby carrier for our Mummy Baby trip to Baby Gap. It has become clear to me, as I was looking for a set of warm clothing for Sash to send off to J at daycare for back-up purposes, that she has outgrown all her warm trousers after a Summer of Ballerina outfits. There are now more clothes on her closet floor than on the racks. She outgrows her clothes so fast that I usually just chuck them on the floor and only bag and store them at the end of every season. So today, after I spend an exhorbitant amount on mini-clothes, I will dump her toddler clothes in the loft as I look for her baby clothes to re-gift to a colleague of Doug's who is having a baby girl in December. I am torn between just handing over a couple of bags of newborn clothes or just handing over 2 suitcases full to just clear out the loft. Wonder how much storage they have....

Dylan, as of yesterday, is 11 pounds and 22 and a quarter inches long. Last month he was 8.8 pounds and 20 inches. Apparently my feeding him every 2 hours round the clock is not in vain.

This morning, I gave him his milk at 8.30am, had a shower, woke Sasha and Doug up, persuaded Sasha out of her pyjamas and into a ballerina dress and a sweater (yup people, Fall is here), made some sugar water and headed out to the doctors office where Dylan was to be circumcised. Once we got there, the nurse applied some sort of cream to the area above his willy and asked us to wait an hour before the doctor applied the anaesthesia. In the meantime, we had to sign the consent forms and watch a DVD that provided the gory details. I only watched the parts where the doctor explained which instruments wold be used and the after care, while Doug practically fainted during the part where the doctor made the snip with a scalpel. So we decided he would go in with Dylan when the anaesthesia was applied while I went in for the snip part. Sash was with us, oblivious to the impending foreskin removal. So there I was, feeding Dylan with drops of sugar water whilst the doctor snipped part of his willie off. He was a trooper and didn't cry. Just kept sucking on the sugar water...no wonder he is 11 pounds already. I have yet to change his diaper...

Our third baby..

With my recently obtaining my permanent residency, I have been having thoughts about home, homeland and passport country. Anyone with a Malaysian passport will know how difficult it is to move around on a whim. Malaysia as a homeland is fabulous. Would never change that. Malaysia as a passport country can be tedious. Visas are required almost everywhere and the process can be a nightmare...except Turkey. Funnily enough, among the family I would have the easiest time entering Turkey as I can get my visa from the immigration counter, for free, while the rest of the Unit will have to pay a fee and obtain the visa from a seperate counter at the arrivals hall. Back to my point. I had initially planned to stay in KL while Doug goes off to Sydney for data collection purposes from Mid-Nov to mid-December. We were getting great rates from an airlines that goes through Abu Dhabi. Did the research. Airlines not great if we encounter a problem, but not so bad if flights go smoothly. Only hitch was the apparently "disgrace" of an airport in Abu Dhabi. K, our trusty travel agent reassured us that we would get a hotel for the 19 hour transit. So it was all systems go. Until we discovered that the transit hotel was fully booked. And although we could get another hotel, I would need a transit visa. And to get a transit visa, I would need to have an invitation letter issued by someone in Abu Dhabi. Funnily enough, I dont happen to have any friends in Abu Dhabi. I thought of just staying in the secured area while D took the kids to the hotel. He then reminded me how painful the 14 hour transit in Changi was, and that is consistently voted the best airport in the world. He was not about to leave me in an airport reviewed as "hellish" for 19 hours and take a baby and a toddler into an unknown city. As he says, if it is as disorganised as Delhi, "I would rather not go to Sydney". So we looked at other options since Abu Dhabi was definitely out of the question. Flights significantly more expensive on other airlines so we thought of looking at all of us going to Sydney. Lo and behold, it is much cheaper for us to fly directly to Sydney via San Francisco than to fly to KL. So now plans have changed. We are all going to Sydney and we will fly back to KL mid Dec for a break hopefully using airmiles. Now all I need is a US transit visa. At least I know loads of Americans. I am now seriously thinking of changing my passport country.

I am so knackered. Exhausted. I honestly cannot believe I had forgotten about the never ending feeds and sleepless nights. Could it have been different with Sasha or was it just so traumatic then that my mind went into self-defence mode and deleted any memory of taking care of her at this stage? R my neighbour can with authority tell me how different her newborn son is from her firstborn because she jots everything down, down to feeding times etc. How she finds the time I don't know. I have not finished a bowl of cereal in ages because by the time I get through half the cereal, Dylan is ready for his meal. If Doug is not home that all I eat is cereal because that takes the least preparation. I can see how it is much easier to lose weight after the second pregnancy because there is no way you can eat. Add the lack of sleep and voila, no need for Mummy Fitness classes. I have many a morning had my morning coffee while pumping or feeding Dylan. Although caffeine is not recommended, I cannot survive without it. I now look at women with 3 kids in a whole new light...

Dylan will be one month next week. How time flies. He is supposed to be in a routine of 3 hour feedings according to a few books I have. He isn't of course. I cant be buggered to stop the demand feeds because we are off to Europe next week and what with the time zone changes and jet lag, I will just be torturing myself trying to implement and stick to a routine. So until we get back home, the kid can eat whenever he wants to. We may also either be going back to KL or heading out to Sydney in November, so I guess the demand feeds will go on until we get back from that trip in January. I have a feeling, just like Sasha, this kid will not have a routine at all...sigh.

We are getting him circumcised next week too. I had initially thought of putting it off after the docs at the hospital couldn't do it at birth. I felt it better for him to decide if he wanted to do it on his own say when he is 21. Did some research and apparently a majority of the population (male) isnt circumcised. Also, as I have gotten to know him the thought of putting him through that much pain just sickens me. But then I thought what if in the future he wants to marry say a Jewish girl. Would he not be slightly ticked off that he/we could have saved himself weeks of recovery time. So we are going ahead with it. That is unless I change my mind before that..

I had a 4-hour stretch of sleep last night!! Woohoo...the longest since Dylan joined us. Not that he wasn't waking up for his feed, but D grabbed his bottle, his son, and headed down to the basement to catch an inevitable CSI rerun. I was just so exhausted that even if he had said he was going down to introduce Dylan to slasher porn movies, I would have just said have a great time and thanks ever so much. I think back fondly of those initial days with Sasha when I could nap when she did. Now, while Dylan naps I either have to be the Mummy doll when we play with her doll house, or the helpless panda bear needing to be rescued by her Ming-Ming (a duck with a lisp character in her new favourite cartoon, Wonder Pets). While it is awesome watching her so engrossed in her imaginary play, I cant help but think "Dylan, please grow up pronto so you can take over as panda bear". There really are no economies of scale when you have another child. A second child does not mean double the work (if only), think more along the lines of quadrupling it. Lets not even mention the upkeep of the house. It is said that when a second child comes into the picture, somethings gotta give. In our case, it is the garden and the attached home. Flowers...dead. Lunch/Dinner...pizza, sushi or cereal. Quality time with spouse..we can chat while I am pumping or while I am feeding. Things get back to some semblance of normality when Sasha goes to daycare, well, our new sense of normality. So grateful I am to J at Sasha's daycare that I sent her a thank you card for helping Sasha adjust so beautifully to Dylan's arrival, and for being there for us. I think it would be almost impossible for us to truly bond with Dylan with Sasha's needs to look after too.

Yesterday morning, after we dropped Sasha at daycare, we dragged Dylan along to the Central Courts where I had my final PR interview. Well, not really an interview but more of ID verification. So as of yesterday, I am officially a permanent resident here. In 3 years, or was it 2, I will be eligible to apply for citizenship. I am not sure this is the route I want to take but it will surely be a hell of alot easier to travel under the same passport.

Pale-in comparison

At first I put it down to underestimating the intelligence of female voters, thinking they would just vote for any old female on the ticket. I mean whats the difference? Highly educated ex-first lady senator to oh say hockey Mum and ex mayor of Hicksville Alaska with "family values". Women cant tell the difference, and they wont care as long as any ole lady is up there to prove that YES WE CAN. Now it is quite obvious that the world has underestimated the Republicans. They were all this time going for the Redneck vote. I get it!! It is also quite apparent that being an NRA member is not redneck-ish enough. Add in preggy teen and voila, you have a candidate worthy of taking on the Putins of this world. Why else would they think that the fact that their potential VP has a very pregnant 17 year old would not result in a negative media frenzy? Or that Baby Daddy's self proclamation of being a "fucking redneck" would not hit primetime worldwide news? Everywhere I went today everyone was talking about the Pallin fiasco. Canada is supposed to have an election soon but who the hell cares..the antics of the Beverly Hillbillies pale in comparison to the Pallin antics. This has made my week!!

I fell asleep while burping Dylan last night...or rather this morning. I remember being woken up for his feed, feeding him, burping him in the middle of his bottle, and being woken up again by his cries a couple of hours later. He was still on my shoulder. I suppose you could say that the lack of sleep is finally catching up with me.

Dylan is an exceptionally good baby. But then they all are at this age. He just sleeps and eats. The sleeping is great. The eating every 2 hours isnt so great. Especially when he is a grazer/snacker who takes aaaaaages to finish 2 ounces. As Doug says, it is like watching grass grow. So it takes him an hour to ninety minutes to finish his meal and settle down..then an hour later he is up again for his feed. I find breastfeeding too painful (just as it was with Sasha) so while I try my best to at least put him to the boob a couple of times a day, I tend to pump the milk out and feed him with the bottle. This is also less time consuming as he tends to take breaks at the boob and it drives me crazy when he takes thirty to forty minutes per boob, taking into account snoozes. So in between feeds, I pump, play with Sasha, cook, tidy up, etc. Of course some of this overlaps with feeds so I find myself telling Sasha "Mummy will (whatever) after Mummy feeds Dylan OK" at least 5 times a day.I am pretty sure even Sasha is wondering why this little thing is just continuously eating. But all is good.

When you have a new baby, the first thing people want to know is "How was it?". It being the labour. So for the record, I shall just say that the second time round was worse for me. Not traumatic, but pretty much reaffirms my decision to stop procreating. I put this down to the docs expecting it to take less time than my first labour, which was 14 hours. So they didn't provide sufficient medication during the epidural. I am sure if my cervix had cooperated and allowed me to push after 7 hours of labour, all would have been well. But it didn't, and after 8 hours, the medication wore off and by then I was fully dilated and absolutely screaming for the epidural top up. I remember Doug asking me a few times if I was OK...and I remember telling him that I am about to push a freaking bowling ball out my vagina so I was NOT OK. He also kept saying "How exciting...we are about to have a baby" to which I responded I KNOW ALREADY. Then he cracked some jokes...and all I could think through the haze of pain was "I am pretty sure Jerry Seinfeld must have been bitch slapped by his wife during her labour." I remember the anaesthesiologist coming into the room, doing something, and asking if I still felt pain. I grunted yes, to which she said "OK, now we are putting in the real medication." At that point I do recall thinking "What the fuck, if she just gave me a placebo I am going to sue her bloody ass". The drugs finally worked. I was allowed to sleep until noon, then the docs informed me that I had to push as the baby was coming, but if I couldn't do it then I would have to go under the scalpel. At that point I was so drugged up that I could not feel anything down there but I was not about to give up so I just said I could push. And 15 minutes later, a baby popped out. To be perfectly honest, I was so wrapped up in the pain management that I had totally forgotten that the end result was a baby..I remember looking at Dylan on the bed and thinking..."Ah yes, so that's why we are here." And 24 hours later, we were home.

We spent yesterday afternoon getting an emergency passport for Dylan. We are leaving for Amsterdam and Milan in 3 weeks. My main worry was that we would not be able to get a passport because we have not been issued his birth certificate, and we really don't have any form of ID for him. Luckily for us it was less painful than we thought and all that we needed to get from the City Clerk was a travel letter which details his registration of birth, which I did online a week ago. So, with that we are able to get a 6 month passport which will be renewed once he gets his birth certificate. What a relief because the tickets have been bought and our meetings scheduled. We even booked a tour to see the Last Supper in Milan on the day we arrive. Apparently, since the Da Vincci Code, this is an extremely popular site. Great marketing at no cost to the Vatican.