I don’t know what I did. My “itchy fingers” clicked on a theme to try it out. Now everything has gone haywire. It’s going to take a long while for a tech noob like me to fix it. Sigh…..
Please bear with me. >.<
(P.S. unless some kind soul can volunteer to fix it for me??)
These 2 months gave me a fresh new perspective to projectile motion. It was defined by formula in my JC F maths, physics days. But that was all theoretical. Nothing quite prepared me for the practical.
In practical, projectile motion results in the following (in sequence of frequency and probability) :
1. Changing and washing of bed sheets
2. Changing of baby’s clothes
3. Dunking him in the bathtub for another bath
4. Changing of my own clothes
5. Wiping his face where the resultant of the motion hit him
6. All of the above.
I’ve never experienced that during 宝贝’s infant days. At the most, it was fluid mechanics (ah… One of my least favourite subject with lots of integration and patience while doing experiments.) the pooling of fluid and predicting which direction it’d flow to. Just a matter of wiping the rubber mat, much more predictable than the erratic projectile motion.
Sorry. No photo for this post. Very difficult lar, one hand is holding up two wriggling legs, the other hand is holding the wet wipe to wipe the Sai. No more extra hand to hold the camera to capture the glorious moment when the golden fluid projects into the air, and lands… In the most undesirable places.
Pfftttt!!! I’ve been blowing raspberries for almost 2 weeks. Mommy has finally managed to get a decent shot. Speaks a lot about her photography skills…. But I still love her!! Pppfffffftttt!!
As a reward for her hard work, I gifted her with another model-fist-under-chin shot. Ta-da!!
Ya.. There’s a scratch on my cheek. My manicurist (my mommy) wasn’t too good. Very slip shod work… Anyhow cut my nails. Haizzzz….
She woke up, feeling under the weather. I kept her home although she preferred to go to school. It’s all play now at school so she looks forward to attending it every day. Hope she still feels the same way a few years later.
Kind of perky for a “sick” child?! Her 70s dance moves crack me up. No… I didn’t teach her that. All my friends know that I score at the bottom on the dancing scale. Can’t be too perfect, you know…
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mtoh5bqlzyg&w=560&h=315]
My darling armpit baby. It’s strange that they like to snuggle into my armpit when they sleep. 宝贝 was like that. Now it’s 小小宝贝’s turn. Maybe they feel especially snug and secure in that position. She doesn’t do it now. She still loves to lie beside me though.
Although I was feeling the ache from being in the same position for such a long time, but the peaceful look on his serene sleeping face. Only at this age. Only with this look. When the sleepy head wakes up, he will blink his eyes a few times and break into an earnest, loving smile when he sees me. I’m just waiting for that moment. :) for the one babyish, innocent, loving smile. *melt* Live for the moment…
宝贝 brought her Chinese workbook back from school today as this is the last week of the school term. I’ve met up with her Chinese teacher last week so I already had a preview of her work.
The session didn’t yield any surprise since I pretty much know what she can do. Wang Laoshi said she’s very into Chinese (she likes what she’s good at. Considering the amount of time my mom spends on her, honing her language. She’s already able to read sentences. Sadly that’s not the case for English. I’m the English oic and I’ve been derelict in my job. Oops!)
I deviate.
Back to her workbook. There’s a missing piece. 全家福. Family Portrait. She didn’t do that piece of work as she was absent from school that week. It must have been the gastric flu week right after Chinese New Year.
So after her English practice (an ad hoc effort of mine, trying to make up for lost time), I handed her her sketchbook (a book we bought in Australia, to keep her occupied.), which was filled with abstract colourful market doodles, sat her down to complete her family portrait.
The little artist and her art piece.
The close up. From left to right – herself, 小小宝贝, mama, papa. We look like a family of “No Face”, straight out of Hayao Miyazaki’s Spirited Away. :p
Notice the little squiggles at the bottom of the stick legs. Those are shoes… The first one she drew with more care because it’s herself mah. Poor papa had the worst end of the stick. He’s the last to be drawn and she’s already lost her patience for it. She didn’t even give him legs.
Hey! Whatcha looking at? I’m eating ice cream! Nom Nom Nom “occasional lick with tongue”
It’s been a mad rush since 7am this morning. The hub is of no help. He’s knocked out from flu. I’m utterly convinced that “weaker sex” is not referring to women. At the peak of health, he could only handle one child. When he’s sick, he’s flat out. When women are sick, they can still nurse babies, work, handle a difficult toddler. No wonder, women were chosen to bear babies and not men.
It’s even so in the animal world. The lioness is the one that bears the young, hunts for food for the whole family while the male just preens his mane to get himself camera ready for the wild life photographers.
Well, to be fair to the hub, he is a very hands on daddy. A lot more hands on than many daddies out there. He’s just not very functional when he’s “fluey”. Sigh…
Anyway, alternating between a sleep deprived baby who was crying on and off, and getting a toddler ready for swimming class, then rushing for music class after that, I finally can sit down, while nursing the baby (not an idle moment eh), in the sanctuary of a nursing room to catch my breath. And also to blog. Like what Shermaine told me, blogging is therapeutic. I can’t help but agree with her wisdom.
The pretty pastel coloured room helps. 30 mins of reprieve before it starts again. Meanwhile, I’m appreciating the moment. *eyes closed*
We are at my parents’ place. 宝贝is rummaging through the cupboards, entertaining herself while I’m doing my “walk the sleeping baby in the pouch” marathon. I must have completed at least a half marathon.
That’s him with his legs sticking out of the pouch.
Then I hear a squeal behind me. “That’s mommy!!”
Look what she’s found!
That was 1 year old me, posing beside my rabbit birthday cake.
I must say that I was quite a cute kid. :p
There he is. Cradled in my arm, snuggled against me, catching his 40 winks.
Should I put him down in the cot and risk him waking up then start the whole tedious sleeping procedure again or just let him be. Continue blogging with one hand.
Dilemma dilemma. I can just hear voices in my head (jialat arh! I’m starting to hear voices in my head…).
Voice A : Better put him down in his cot arh. You spoil him like that, next time you forever carry him to sleep meh??
Voice B : But what if he wakes up?? Going through the process. Very Siong you know!!
Voice A : if you put him down you can pump your milk. Your milk supply is so low. How to go back to work like that?? Every time you pump out 70 ml he drinks 90 ml. Like that sure *gg! (Gg stands for good game. Internet gaming jargon. That means game over. )
Voice B : But but he’s sleeping so sweetly.
(The culprit was making cute mewing sounds in his dream. Awwww…)
Voice A : but what but?! You still have loads of emails to reply and clients to call!
Voice B : He’s only a baby once in his life. He will grow too big to fit in this sleeping position very soon. I wouldn’t be able to cradle him like that anymore. See his long eyelashes?? So cute!!!
Voice A : if you get shoulder cramps and whatever arm cramps, don’t come and complain to me arh!
Voice B thinks to itself, “so grouchy early in the morning.”
(Win lor! Now my voice in my head has another voice in its head. This can go on and on…)
Meanwhile inertia has set in.
Voice B : ok ok. I’ll put him down in at 11am.
(We started the debate at 10am. It’s now 1030am).
Voice A : then he will want to drink and then sleep and here we go again….
That’s how I spend my morning. Cradling my baby and talking to myself. Hah!