Friday, June 22, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
My MD had my Admin/PR Director book me a room just in case I needed a rest anytime during the day, seeing as I am 35 weeks gone and I'll be on my feet the whole day.
I'd forgotten about that little detail.
I'm 33 and a soon-to-be-mom, and my dad's still got my back.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
I've struggled to come up with the appropriate words to convey a message to my soon-to-be-born daughter. I can't begin to explain how much strength, hope and inspiration I've drawn from her growing presence especially in these last few months. I can only hope that I'll be that pillar of strength for her and to give back what she's given me. Budding poet I am not, mediocre haiku dabbler I may be. So I'll let the meisters do the job for me, and they do it beautifully. Here's to my Sophia:
Let Your Love Be Strong
In this world of news, I've found nothing new
I've found nothing pure
Maybe I'm just idealistic to assume that truth
Could be fact and form
That love could be a verb
Maybe I'm just a little misinformed
As the dead moon rises, and the freeways sigh
Let the trains watch over the tides and the mist
Spinning circles in our skies tonight
Let the trucks roll in from Los Angeles
Maybe our stars are unanimously tired
Let your love be strong, and I don't care what goes down
Let your love be strong enough to weather through the thunder cloud
Fury and thunder clap like stealing the fire from your eyes
All of my world hanging on your love
Let the wars begin, let my strength wear thin
Let my fingers crack, let my world fall apart
Train the monkeys on my back to fight
Let it start tonight
When my world explodes, when my stars touch the ground
Falling down like broken satellites
All of my world resting on your love
Copyright © Switchfoot
Friday, June 15, 2007
What would I do with my beloved site here?
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Argh. The vouchers expire end July and I had already gotten all I needed from Ikea.
"Why don't you go return one of the items you got and then buy it again using your vouchers?" came Chin Lai's handy response.
"Really ah? You mean now? Sure ah? REALLY?"
I don't ever recall returning something at Ikea right after I'd bought it. This would be a first.
"Sure ah?" I asked one last time at the Returns & Exchange Counter.
"Why not?" said sis. "He does it all the time!"
So I took a number and stood by my trolley as Chin Lai and sis sat down and waited.
And waited. And. Waited.
I mouthed to Chin Lai from where I was standing, "I should have gone in first, got the other one, paid for it while using the coupons then come back here and I'd still be in line."
In the end, I gave him the cash and the coupons, he went in to get what I needed while I was being tended to by the customer service rep.
"I realized I didnt' need this AFTER I bought it," I lied to her while waiting for lightning to strike me down.
Five minutes later, the amount was refunded and we were on our way to meet Chin Lai at the checkout lane.
Now where did I keep those clogs of mine?
So what am I stuck with? A broadband connection that doesn't work and another case number.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Yes, we're progressing and moving forward towards 50 years of independence!
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
"It's a pregnancy blotch. I don't know what it is but it doesn't itch. It's just there. There's more! I started sprouting more on my knees and thighs too."
"Oh, oh...and check out the bruise I got from banging my leg into the bedframe!"
"Eeeuuuwwww! And what's this?" She points to a scar on my left arm.
"Oh, that's a remnant from a mosquito bite."
"You look like you're a victim of physical abuse!"
"Oh yeah. Here, check out the healing cat scratch on my upper left arm..."
Baby's weight: approx. 2kg
Baby's sex: definitely a girl
Well, looks like I've found the cause of my aching pelvis: the baby's head is doing battle with a low-lying placenta. My next appointment and scan is two weeks from now. Doc says by then, if the baby's head doesn't nudge the darned placenta out of the way, he'll schedule a C-section.
Weighing at approximately 2kg, she's a little on the small side. Other than that, she's as healthy as a little peach.
"Put on some weight for me," the doc says.
"I'm eating but I'm the one putting on, not the baby!" I protest.
It's out of my hands now. If the baby doesn't push her way through and engage by the next two weeks, I'm gonna have to go under the knife.
In the meantime, she actually looks quite cute on the scan. Not that I can make out much other than her squashed little nose and her huge (or to me it seems) head. Then again, don't most babies have squashed noses?
My low-waisted panties are going to be relgated to the very back of my lingerie drawer soon. I'd put them on just over the weekend and had the problem of them slipping down my butt once too often. I'd find myself having to surreptitiously pull them back up.
I failed, by the way, in trying to pull my undies up surreptitiously. My butt's gotten so huge lately that I couldn't do anything to or with it surreptitiously even if I tried.
Now I understand why so many maternity stores stock those granny-like support panties. I think pretty soon I may need a few of my own.
Ever since I got my first leg cramp, I thought pampering myself to regular massages ought to improve the blood circulation to and in the general area. While I'm not sure about the general results, my lower legs have benefited from the massage oil that the masseuse uses: they feel smoother and softer than they've ever felt in my entire life. The sessions are so relaxing that I usually doze off for the hour that I'm ensconced in the reclining chair.
I was lucky enough to find a lady masseuse whose style I prefered after a few rounds of massages. I usually ask for her by name. Her touch is just nice: not too hard yet not too soft nor limpid when she massages. She's got powerful thumbs that she puts to good use during the shoulder massage.
I realised today that even though I refer to and request her by name, she also goes by an index number: 656. That number was written next to my name when I made a reservation today. I only bothered to look at the reservation list today because I'd specified the wrong time. Luckily she was available.
Almost towards the end of my session, I overheard a man speak to the receptionist. He confirmed that he requested #656 and that his wife wanted #691. He sounded like a regular. Somehow the conversation and the way he referred to the masseuse by index numbers and not by name seemed callous and disrespectful. He was polite and sounded soft-spoken but to not even bother to ask someone's name and remember it so that you can request for the person next time seemed somewhat uncompassionate.
To me, the masseuse are human beings and deserve to at least be called on by name by their patrons. I would understand if the employer assigned an ID number to an employee but to have a client refer to the service provider by number and not by name just didn't seem quite humane.
No doubt these service providers are not local, they're Thai and some people might deem they are "lesser" citizens of the country. I wonder what that man would feel if he were to be referred to by one of his clients by ID number instead of by his name.
For performing a service that ensures our well-being, the least these women deserve is to be called by name and not some index number. I don't expect them to be paid much by their local employer, therefore I make sure that I leave a tip for the person who's given me my relaxing foot massage. I know of at least one other patron who does so. But I wonder if the other patrons spare a thought for these women?
In any case, I wonder if we KL-ites have lost our capacity for compassion? Or is it just me being a tad sensitive?
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
By now I should realise that nothing is impossible during pregnancy. Like the fact that I can find cellulite growing in communal clumps on my upper arms. Or that my back could possibly feel any stiffer for all the curdled-milk-buildup-gone-awry creeping from my knees all the way up my thighs to my butt and settling on my back.
As Vicki Iovine said in The Girlfriend's Guide To Pregnancy, "...I had cellulite so bad it looked like I had been pelted with cottage cheese..."
This close and intimate encounter with the enemy is all but driving me up the wall. A total-body experience it is turning out to be because daily I find new clumps of the offending buildup turning up on my body. Soon, I'll be expecting to find cellulite even down where my feet and ankles are. Who knows? Maybe my fingers will take to the stuff and start sprouting some of their own.
It's so rampant it feels like a plague raging across the landscape of my body like spores let loose from a lalang pod. Soon it'll be creeping up my neck and populating my face. Then my husband will return home one weekend to find this huge monstrous blob that's taken over his wife's body.
I was so desperate I'd even bought some anti-cellulite massage cream and have been dilligently massaging it into my butt and thighs every morning and evening. Somehow, I don't think it's working. I'm just about ready to give up and give in to this "total body" experience that pregnancy is making me go through.
I just wonder how I'll get rid of all this offending clump after the baby's born. Maybe I'll just make sure my urut lady applies her magical hands and fingers to all my problem areas and massage them away.
In my life however, things are not always that easy nor simple.
But then again, there's always liposuction...
Monday, June 04, 2007
The girls are coping without too much fuss. Meg has a new sleeping spot on the sofa. Depending on her mood, she chooses to sleep on the backs of whichever cushions she feels like. Trixie hangs around spread out on the lower landing of the stairs. I've opened the door on Pixel stretched out on the upper landing or camped right outside our door.
What's geting me worried is the racket he kicks up the moment he hears movement beyond the bedroom door. The minute my phone alarm goes off or I push the toilet flush, he protests at the top of his voice for minutes at a time. There's no let up; he even scratches at the bedroom door. He is THAT desperate for his old status of bedroom cat.
I hope his caterwauling lets up after a few more weeks. I hope he gets the message or gets fed up of mewling at the top of his lungs for attention. I already feel guilty for locking him out. I hate listening to his protests. I always make sure I pet and cuddle him the moment I step out of the bedroom. If I don't, he'll shoot as quick as a bullet past my legs into the room. His contented purring can be heard from miles away when I pet him.
Poor thing. He's not gonna like the lack of attention when the baby comes.