Getting up to speed

Okay, so it's been a while, not like anyone missed me or anything. 2 years have gone by in a flash, the missus and I got ourselves a running (oh dear god does she run), jumping and one word blabbering 2 year old on my hands, a far cry from the very passive 3 month old the last time I updated. Never one to be stingy with her smiles and very infectious laughter as we troop into the house after a long day at work. We also have to contend with her temper when she doesn't get what she wants or when it's time for bed.

There are some worries about her language development as the few peers she has that we know of are already quite used to 3 to 4 word mini sentences while she's stuck using one word at a time, on balance, her motor skills seem fairly well developed and she's a great runner and climber so I guess we'll just have to wait and see a little longer. B1 and B2 are back from their overseas stints so the clan is back together again, EJ's grandparents are doing alright too.

Oh, we're expecting Number 2 sometime in November. Heaven help us. Seems like we just barely scratched the surface of getting a handle on EJ and now we got another one on the way to introduce sibling rivalry into the equation, to say nothing of that whole 3 feeds a night crap again.

Anyhoo, EJ's off to pre-nursery come next year. I have to say I was quite hesitant on sending her to school at such a young age when we made the decision earlier this year but as time passed it was made clear to me that we've come to a point where she needs more challenges and stimuli to order to grow and having an environment where there is some semblance of structure and an opportunity to interact with her peers seems like a nifty idea. Did I also mention that EJ's pretty good at repeating the names of objects we point out both in picture books and the real world? Like a parrot. Must stop cursing in the car.

A light in the sky

It's been 60 years since anyone alive today saw the flash of an atomic weapon detonated in anger and lived to tell the tale. The second of only two atomic bombs used on live targets detonated over Nagasaki at the precise time of this post.

But really, does anyone care?

EJ is exactly 14 weeks old. She's come a long way since that day in May when she was forcibly removed from her temporary lodging and brought out into this world of harsh lights and sounds. She's been able to recognize and respond to her primary caregivers for a while now and has recently been taken out for short jaunts into town, giving her a chance to charm strangers who smiled at her or commented on her cuteness by giving them a smile of her own. She's grown a fair bit and is able to hold her head up more or less unassisted. She can communicate through the use of different sorts of short cries and her repertoire of sounds has grown by leaps and bound. She has also recently started to use her face to show her displeasure, a step up from when she first started smiling at people.

Then again, like anyone gives a shit.

And today's the day Singapore celebrates 40 years of independence. That's all that matters doesn't it? Wave the flag, thump the chest,see the fireworks. Oooh, ahhh, it's all good.

3 pictures, 3000 words, my work here is done

May 20, 2005


June 27, 2005


July 29, 2005

Communication

It's been a while since the last one. Much has been said about much that was done, yet here I am, it's as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, life goes on.

I've always suspected the rifts were there, little clues here and there, every so often. It's gut wrenching to see your loved ones act out what happens when two people do not communicate. It's scary when you start identifying all those danger signs you remember from the marriage prep course from not so long ago. Nothing like a look into the future to scare the beejeezus out of yourself if you don't pay attention to the basics.

EJ's been acting up, she's latched on to the fact that if she cries we'll drop everything to pick her up. Of course we've been subjected to the usual barrage of ill-timed and unwelcomed advice on how not to pick her up whenever she starts going eh-eh-eh in that weird cry that she has for fear of spoiling her but Mummy says to hell with that, cry=pick up. The books say EJ will grow up with a better sense of security if she knows there are people who care about her, works for me.

Separation

With the departure of B2 to that last bastion of democracy and equal rights for all during the early hours of this morning my immediate family unit now has representatives in the US and Oz. It will be sometime during Christmas 2006 before we will all be standing in the same physical space at the same time again.

That cliche about not knowing what you got till you miss it rings true at this time, we've never been what you might consider close, I guess that's what you get when all your siblings are male. Seems to me girls have the edge on boys when it comes to building and maintaining sibling relationships, even friendships in general. Of course, there's a chance of bitchiness coming into the equation and fucking things up but in general girl-girl friendships seem to stand the test of time better than guy-guy friendships.

The relationship between the Eggs 3 has always been one of don't ask, don't tell. No one asks about your life, you tell no one about it too. It wasn't always like that, I remember us sleeping on the same bed while we were young, sharing the same room when we couldn't all fit into one bed anymore and just talking about nonsense while we lay in bed waiting for the Sleep Monster to ambush us. Those times were the best, we played hard, fought harder and yet in the quiet time before sleep, we'd always have something to talk about, each cocooned in his own bed staring up at the ceiling (in the case of B2, staring up at the bottom of the top bed of the double decker), just talking. Sometimes a little too excitedly, which brought the Big Daddy Bird into the room threatening in a loud voice and in no uncertain terms what he'd do to us if we didn't quiet down and go to sleep.

We've done a lot of growing up since those days, we've taken different paths along the way and made friends of our own, created our own worlds and our own support structure, to the extent that water seems thicker than blood sometimes. Yet, ironically, for all the distance that seems to separate us, both literally and figuratively, I've come to realise that there is nothing I won't do for either of them. You never know what you got till you lose it, indeed.

Crybaby

EJ has been acting up at night lately, she has been screaming her lungs out the past 2 nights where she used to only cry when she was hungry or when her diapers were soiled. All attempts at getting her to calm down failed and it was only out of sheer exhaustion that she stopped on both occasions. We think it might be colic but can't be sure, it seems to only happen at night. Both her parents are totally frazzled by her crying although we haven't lost our sanity yet.

Perhaps it's her way of thumbing her nose at us for saying she's a joy to look after. Heh, that's my girl.

In other news, the first of many rounds of makan (in honour of EJ's first month) at our place took place this past weekend. Distant relatives who I don't care for fouled up what should have been an occasion to remember. Bleah.

Recognition

It's 3 in the morning, peaceful night if not for the piercing sound of your cries. I stumble out of bed to check on you after what seems like an eternity of wailing on your part. Mummy's milk is being warmed up after being taken out of the refrigerator but you don't know that and you don't care. You're hungry and you're letting the world know.

So it is with some surprise, although I should know better, that you quieten down immediately when I look in on you, you look at me with what I hope is recognition on your face as I bend down and talk to you, you remain quiet as I pick you up from your cot and sayang you a bit as we wait for your milk. Dang, just like the books say. You may not know who I am but my voice is familiar to you, you know I'm not mummy cos I don't sound or smell the same but I've been around often enough for you to recognize me voice. All too soon your bottle arrives and you are whisked away from my arms, later gorgeous.

Grandparents

I can't remember much of my paternal grandmother. I remember the way she smelt, her typical ah-ma clothes, I remember her when she was sprightly, I remember her when she was frail, I remember her last days, I miss her dearly on the occasions I think about her. It seems I was one of her favourites, the feeling was mutual. She used to admonish people around the house not to speak too loudly when I was sleeping in the days after I was just born. People have told me I was the apple of her eye. It's a pity I couldn't speak Teochew fluently enough to carry on a conversation with her. Our conversations were almost always restricted to the obligatory greeting and "jia ba buey?" (Have you eaten yet?). I remember a time towards the end, when she seemed bitter at the world and people around her, my mum told me to sit with her and keep her company, so there she was, sitting alone with me, telling me things in Teochew that I desperately wanted to understand, I remember the sadness in her eyes. I can't remember what I told her but it probably wasn't something of much help. It's a private moment that's stayed with me all through the years. It pretty much sums up my relationship with her, so close, yet so far.

It is a given that most children have 2 full sets of grandparents when they are born, longer average life spans have made it possible for said grandparents to play a part in shaping the lives of their grandchildren well into their teens, sometimes into adulthood. I'm glad both sets of grandparents are around for EJ, I hope they will be around for EJ's siblings and cousins, I hope they'll be around for a long time. I'd like EJ to meet the people who spent their lives bringing her parents up. I'd like EJ to get to know them real well in the time she has with them for they have much to tell. I'd like her to remember and miss them when they have passed for I surely will.

20.05.2005 How not to blog?

Truth be told I only realised today was the day when I was updating inventory records like I do at the end of each week. Holy crap! 20.05.2005! Never will a day like this appear again....until 20.06.2006. In the words of Neo, whoa!

116 couples are getting hitched today, the highest so far this year, surpassing the 107 couples who got married on 05.05.05. Yep, we Singaporeans always outdoing outselves when it comes to being number 1. But the record for largest number of weddings in a single day is still held by 14.02.1995. Apparently not only was it Velentine's Day, it was Yuan Xiao Jie, the Chinese Valentine's Day as well. A phenomenon only repeated every 20 years. Over 2,000 couples got married that fateful day. Anyone want to do a survey on how many of those couples are still couples 20 years from now? Must....be.....polite, no.....swearing.

But, much as I detest the kitschiness of it all, to each his/her own. Here's wishing the 232 of you blissful marriages, Trust is important but communication more so, because according to some survey from a few months back, most Singaporeans don't seem to be happy with their life partners. A staggering number, over 50% surveyed IIRC. There's something fundamentally scary about the implication that at least 1 of every 2 couples you meet on the street, among your friends and in your workplace are not happy with each other.

Of course, I could go on about the importance of communication in a relationship, I could say that the ability to engage your partner in conversation about anything without getting a "you want to break up with me/take a look at yourself in the mirror first" look is a sign of a healthy relationship and lah-dee-dah but that would just smack of being holier-than-thou right?

Anyways, EJ just blew past 2 weeks, she's
- exerting more control over where she wants the head, and consequently the eyes to go.
- staying awake for longer periods of time.
- letting her eyes roam around her view of vision when she is awake.
- showing signs of recognising her mummy and daddy. (debatable, but oh do we wish it were so)
- being more vocal, even though it's just short gasps of eh, uh, ehhhh.
- still kan cheong when it comes to feeding time, head just swaying all over the place when it's time to latch on, won't settle down on the nipple until she's satisfied there's nothing else around to latch on to.
- still a pretty good sleeper, wakes up at midnight and around 0400hrs for her feeds, like clockwork this one is. Fingers crossed it carries on.
- still gorgeous

Happy 20.05.2005 all!

Head Rush

The following post will be ugly, it will be verbal diarrhoea at it's finest as I have opted to put down everything I can remember in the order things pop up in my head. I had thought about being a little more understated about things but detail won out as i wanted to remember as much I could of this day.

3 May
We are up before the sun is, we grab all the stuff we're supposed to bring and are out the door in no time.

First stop was day surgery as we were the first case of the day and OT wasn't open that early in the morning, mummy got prepped while daddy tried to stand somewhere where he couldn't block people. Then it was off to OT to wait some more, mummy got wheeled in while daddy changed into scrubs (must....resist.....urge.....Nurse! Get 2 units of O neg into this guy and start an IV on that one, wide open...damn you, ER wannabe!!) and waited some more. Anesthetist comes in and shoots mummy up with happy juice (but not before almost rendering her unconscious with pain from repeated attempts at injecting lignocaine into the epidural space). It is lucky that daddy was sitting at OT reception cooling his heels at this point for it is almost certain daddy would not have stayed conscious if he had witnessed abovementioned prepping of mummy pain adverse pussy that he is.

Daddy gets called into the OR just as surgeon starts cutting mummy up to get to EJ. Again, being about as useful as an uncouscious surgeon teaching a class on quantum physics daddy wisely places himself in a corner where he won't trip anyone and witnesses the noisy ballet that is an OR. Yep, I said noisy, perhaps it was the nature of the op, but I always envisioned ORs to be temples of quiet where surgeons and nurses went about their jobs in a measured way, instead the scene was more like controlled pandemonium with the two surgeons going about their work while a nurse assisted them, the more senior of the two all the while giving the junior one pop quizzes on this procedure or that body part. Meanwhile, the anesthetist is monitoring mummy's vitals and giving instructions to up the rate of that drip or put in some more *insert unitelligible medical drip term here*.

The surgeons start putting some real pressure on mummy's tummy as they position EJ to come out of the 6 inch cresent shaped incision they have made just above the bikini line. Their movements are violent enough to rock mummy's body, picture if you will, a man standing over your wife, applying pressure very violently and animatedly at downwards from the top of her tummy while another man uses a pair of forceps to pull your child out. I wasn't standing at the business end of things cos I was giving mummy moral support but I do remember thinking it was all so surreal. Thinking back now, I filter out all the ambient noises and voices around me, I remember mummy smiling at me and giving me the "it's all right" look when they know their husbands are about to lose it, I remember the two surgeons pushing and pulling for all they were worth.

The next thing I know, a cry is heard above the suction noises coming out of mummy's tummy. The junior guy pulls out this tiny human being all covered in some grey mucus and hands it over to the midwife, who has until this point been in the background, with her are two med student docs/nurses who observe her every move while she starts EJ on the very first test of her life. A battery of initial tests to see if tiny human being has the reflexes expected of a normal human being is quickly completed. (9 out of a possible 10 score, yay! baby so crever! see! so smart! first test got 90%, can go RGS and then RJC and then among-the-world-best NUS already). The surgeons have by now started on sewing mummy up. A quick grasp of mummy's hand and a quietly mouthed "see you soon, love you" and daddy is following midwife and tiny human being out of OR.

EJ is taken out of OR to a delivery suite where her weight, height and head circumference measurements are taken and recorded so a run on these number combinations can be made by concerned relatives at the nearest TOTO outlet at the earliest possible inconvenience. A neonatologist comes in and gives her the once over, breathing is a little erratic but lungs have just started working so give her 15 minutes and she'll be fine. Daddy leaves EJ to go back to OT recovery to check on mummy who's looks good considering the circumstances. After a short wait in recovery, mum and dad proceed to move up to the neonatal ward where EJ follows shortly.

The rest of the week goes by in a blur of family and friends visiting, mummy breastfeeding EJ and a sudden influx of patients to the ward on 05/05/05, all caesarean cases. Make the inanity stop! As a side note, a record number (as compared to what I cannot remember) of marriages were also registered on 05/05/05 with an even higher number for a date just round the corner, 20/05/05. Don't you fools see that it takes more than a fancy number combination to make a marriage work or bring baby up??!? Were you stupid all your lives or did you have to really, really work at it? Make it stop, please, make it stop.....*whimpers*

Hello World!

Here's looking at you kid

So many things I wanted to blog about, some interesting nuggets in the papers of the past week I wanted to share, but all that can wait. You will come into this world in a few short hours, last minute checks of the stuff we have to bring are being made as I type this. We have done all we can to prepare for this day. It's in your tiny little hands (and in the hands of our Friend above) now. Be seeing soon EJ.

Somebody stop me

Seeing as to how whoever was responsible for coming up with my Chinese name made a hash of it coupled with the fact that the in-laws didn't seem too up to speed in that department either AND how badly we wanted (well, ok I since the Mrs. has got a nice sounding cheenah name) a name we (ok, ok, I) and EJ could live with saw us making a beeline for Kinokuniya and Borders in a last minute frenzied attempt at finding said suitable Chinese name.

Enquiry faxes to the respective bookstores saw prompt replies from both parties, kudos to the backroom support. Kino has 2 of the books I was looking for, Borders another. It was supposed to be a short in and out kind of trip since we were rushing for a family lunch. You know, kind of like the surgical strikes that only exist in military planners' heads. Needless to say, the surgical strikes were anything but, more like indiscriminate carpet bombing (it's on target if it hits the ground).


Bad boy, very bad boy, hands off the wallet next time we go book store or no more outings for you

Books on getting the most out of D-SLRs and the Iraq War were picked up in addition to the original targets. I've been a bad boy, a very bad boy, water and white bread for the rest of this month. I'll let you know which ones are winners and stinkers after I'm done with them.

This whole weekend is going up in smoke what with all the last minute prep and cleaning of the house in anticipation of adding 1 more to the population of this great nation of ours. Still, we did take some time to fulfill our obligations to a higher authority.

Homeworlds

That first intake of air into your tiny lungs, the cool air of the OT rushing headlong into every nook and cranny of your lungs as you take your first breath (and using it to make known your displeasure at being yanked out of Mummy's womb in the only way you know how). Opening your mucus covered eyes to the harsh spotlights that illuminate the stage that is your Act 1, Scene 1. The strange sensations you hear and feel as pairs of hands first cradle, clean and finally wrap you up so you're snug and warm. A pair of hands that you instinctively know to be your Mother's reaches out and holds her to you, her body warming yours as you lie snuggled in her arms, the sound of her voice soothing you even as you can't understand a single word she says. You're Home. And then some annoying blob you can't discern (because your eyesight has yet to fully develop) starts firing bright strobes in your face. Hi Daddy.

Things are happening so fast I haven't really had the time to sit down and think about what's going to happen in a week's time. I'm going to be a father, I've thought it about it from time to time in the years before today but never really dwelt on it because the thought seemed so abstract, did I tell you how I felt when I first saw you on the ultrasound machine screen? I couldn't stop this big shit-eating grin from appearing on my face even as your mum and I watched you fidget while the sonographer tried to get good data on you. You're a frisky one you are, all through these 38 weeks you've been inside Mummy you've never let a day go by without running a marathon inside her womb. Kicks, punches, somersaults, especially before and during mealtimes.

I can't wait for you to be out so I can hold you. I'll try to give you the freedom to try anything once but I'll step in if I think there's something you shouldn't be doing. I won't tell you what to do but rather let you know where the chips lie and let you make your own decisions. I'll try not to talk down to you, I'll treat you with the respect you deserve as a human being but always remembering that you're a growing child I'll be there to correct whatever behaviour is inappropriate. You'll always have a loving home and a warm bed to come home to no matter what you do or how old you are. I pray that I'll know how to recognise that someday when you'll know more about something than I do and to trust you in your decision making when that day comes. I pray I know when to hold on and when to let go. I hope you never speak to me with fear in your heart, I hope you never speak to me with disrespect. I hope that you'll grow up with the fear and knowledge of God by your side. I have hopes and dreams for you but they're not the sort that involves medicine or law school for there are far greater things to strive for on this Earth. We'll get to that in due time.

By the way, I finally found something on how they used a ultrasound machine to check you for developmental defects (medspeak for is you a normal baby), it's called Nuchal Translucency and I'm still in awe of they do it.

I was listening to a couple of old records yesterday, Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings came up, I remembering hearing the choral version, Agnus Dei, the first time on Homeworld, a computer game I was crazy about way back then. It was background music to an intro to a scene in which the player was in a desperate race to save these 6 barges full of cryogenically frozen Hiigarans from being blasted into oblivion as they set out on their epic journey to find their Homeworld. First off, Homeworld was already mind blowing in it's conception and execution in the first place, here it was, a space game which truly felt like a space opera. The voicework, the scale of the game, the backstories, they all just came together so perfectly you just knew you were playing a piece of gaming history.

Enter Adagio for Strings, it just blew me away man, blew me away, it was the saddest piece of music I had ever heard, juxtaposed against the backstory, it was all I could do to blink back the tears. You just have to buy the game and play it to experience it. Samuel Barber was a freaking genius, notwithstanding his "one hit wonder". The many ways in which this piece of music was used is a testament to the raw emotion it invokes in anyone who listens to it.

54 people died and 440 were injured when a passenger train derailed in Japan yesterday. The 23 year old train driver had apparently overshot the platform at an earlier stop and was behind schedule because he had to back the train up. There is speculation that he was speeding to make up for lost time and didn't slow down at a bend in the tracks causing 4 of 7 carriages to jump the tracks and pile up against an apartment block scant metres from the railway tracks.

In the midst of impending new life death works overtime.

The German Shepherd and baby E.J.

It's been quite a week, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, the Dean of the College of Cardinals, head of the Doctrine of the Faith, one of the key figures in Pope John Paul's inner circle, is now Pope Bendict XVIthe 265th direct descendent of St. Pete. A man who has been described as the Catholic Church's leading conservative was elected in one of the swiftest elections ever, just 3 ballots over 2 days. It's still early days but it doesn't seem he's as naturally warm as his predecessor, still it's not fair to judge him right out from the gate. Of course the fact he turned 78 last Saturday has not helped in the murmurings about the Conclave's choice. That said, The Lord works in mysterious ways so we'll just have to wait and see.

E.J. is scheduled for touchdown on the morning of 3 May, it's going to have to be a Caesarean cos E.J. has a head that's a little bigger than average and she's been putting on a bit o weight, 3168 grams as of 2 weeks ago. The confinement lady's been given the heads up, everyone who's anyone to us is getting all excited about seeing E.J, the baby bag is packed, mummy is good to go and daddy is praying he won't collapse in an embarassing heap in the OT.

You see, Mrs Egg has elected for an epidural, aka local anasthesia, aka you're-conscious-while-they-cut-you-up. Mummy wants to do this so she can breastfeed E.J. as soon as E.J. comes roaring out the gate. Personally, I think Mummy is psycho but you didn't hear that from me. What this all means is that I'm going to be in there with her as they're doing the cutting, pulling and sewing. I get to bring the camera along so I can capture the procedure in all it's full blood and gore, so yeah, if I have to suffer, all yous is coming along with me.

Why

I'm going to be a Daddy in 5 weeks and I want E.J. and however many siblings that follow to have a record of the times that were while they were too young to want to know.

Mrs. Egg and I are expecting a 01 x girl, baby in about 5 weeks times, thus far the pregancy seems to be going along smoothly, Mrs Egg has not slowed down noticeably in the physical or mental department (although frequency of random ditzy statements and behaviour have increased slightly, as per pregnancy specs), E.J. was slightly over 2kg the last time she was ultrasounded, her head's a little bigger than average, "not pathological" according to the gynae, whatever that means. Said head size also just about rules out the natural birth we've been hoping for. Dang it.

P.S. ultrasound machines are just wonderpul leetle pluckers, yeah they can do measurements of thigh bones, head diameters, show you the baby's sex, what the little devil is up to during the scan (usually getting pissed at the poking and prodding), but get this loh, they've got software that can measure the thickness of the skin on the back of the baby's neck to check for Down's, like, from the techincal standpoint, how the fark you guys do that?

I also wanted to write again, I used to be very good at it back in school. I liked writing especially if others read it, it was nice to get compliments on my essays every so often, that and it’s good practice for night school. I’ll need a little time to find my voice and stride so bear with me anyone out there reading this.

Pope John Paul II died earlier this week, his funeral was today. The only spiritual representative of St. Peter that I've known in my lifetime has returned to HQ to report. I hope Pete's got a warm seat ready for him. His legacy of being part of bringing down the Iron Curtain, preaching peace, forgiveness and tolerance in addition to his stands on contraception, gays and his flying in the face of Vatican II make for enough material to write a thesis and I'm just too lazy to do that. I prefer to remember him as someone the world could use a few more of, send us some more Lord, the human race might just make something of itself yet.

Courage! Men may yet defeat the politicians - Alistair Cooke