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Showing posts from April, 2012

Flying kites and bringing up boys

Learning to trust. And let go. An excerpt from my current read: The late Erma Bombeck likened the parenting responsibility to flying a kite. You start by trying to get the little craft off the ground, and sometimes you wonder if it's going to make it. You're running down the road as fast as you can with this awkward kite flapping in the wind behind you. Sometimes it crashes to the ground, so you tie on a longer tail and try it again. Suddenly it catches a little gust of wind and flies dangerously close to the power lines. Your heart is pounding as you survey the risk, but then without warning the kite begins to tug on the string as it ascends into the sky. You release your grip little by little, and sooner than you expected, you come to the end of the twine. You stand on tiptoe holding the last inch between your thumb and forefinger. Then reluctantly, you let go, permitting the kite to soar unfettered and independent in God's blue heaven. It's an exhilarating and ter…

My paternal grandmother

A post in memory of my late po-po (paternal grandmother)A patchwork-play-blankie she made for Nathan, her great-grandsonThings I remember…Lunch at her house on Sundays after church – the two staple dishes on her table were always: pak cham kai (Hakka style poached chicken) and ngiong tew fu (tofu stuffed with pork mince)Playing with the cute yellow fluffy chicks in her back garden – she always had chickens in her backyardHer beautiful yappy dogs (Japanese Spitzes) that she loved so muchPhoto taken with my po-po and gu-gu in November 2011
Although I was not extremely close to her, I somehow felt rather melancholic and wistful following the news of her death.Perhaps it was the fact that her death meant the passing of a generation in our family (as my gong-gong had already passed away 11 years before). Or perhaps it was the fact that with her passing, the only person in our family with a direct link to our Kadazandusun heritage is gone. She is the only family member I know of who spoke Ka…

Our new uber cool chalkboard door

Something outrageous and cool I did recently…I turned the inside of our front door into a chalkboard!I used DIY chalkboard paint which I mixed together myself using some of the leftover supplies from our house construction.With the leftover paint, I painted over an old photo frame and hung it up on the front side of the door.I love the idea that I can change the wordings anytime depending on the season or situation… like “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Easter” or even “Shhh… baby asleep!”Whadaya think? Nice?

Scar

Had our follow up appointment at the hospital this morning to review Nathan’s scar from the accident.Unfortunately the doctors could not say anything conclusive. Apparently the area is not healing perfectly as planned. Nathan is just too active a boy to keep down – the day after the surgery he tripped again and popped the stitches on the top layer of the wound. I was absolutely mortified and went back into my ‘wreck mode’ when that happened.After this morning’s appointment, I confess I came home, sat down and cried. I cried over the fact that the scar is still there and will continue to be there for who knows how long. The doctor could only tell me that they will continue to review it and see how it goes.To others, it may seem a small imperceptible thing. But it’s undeniably there. Friends and family try to be more tactful. But friendly or curious strangers often ask me “what happened to his lip?”. When I relate the incident, they will quickly try to reassure me with a “oh, it doesn’t…

Photojournal of Nate’s first major boo-boo

April Fool’s Day. Nathan tripped and fell in our garden and cut his lip against our letterbox pole.Result: a serious lower lip lacerationWhat followed was a harrowing experience of blood, tears, hospitals and waiting rooms. Oh the waiting. The waiting is the worst part of the experience.From Fremantle Hospital Emergency, we were referred to Princess Margaret Hospital where we spent a whole day on April 2nd just waiting, waiting and waiting. Waiting for a much coveted slot in the operating room.In between FB updates and chats to doctors and nurses and keeping our little Nate entertained, I couldn’t help some moments of tears. Tears from asking a million “whys'” and “if onlys”. Every time I glanced at that ugly gash on my son’s mouth, I was pierced through the heart.FYI, we already had a paediatric plastic surgeon ready to operate on Nathan. However Princess Margaret Hospital only opens up ONE operating room on Sundays prioritised for extreme emergency cases.As the clocked ticked by…

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