Bun in oven, Silly things

The Nose

So I am feeling more than a little smug because I had guessed correctly the gender of the “royal baby”. This was how it happened – the guessing, I mean. Not the birth of the baby. Who is now the Prince of Cambridge. How cute is that title? Also, he is the real prince – it irritates me when parents refer to their offspring as “princess” or “prince”. Who made you king?

Anyway, back to the story. Mr Thick and I were sitting in Mr A’s room, just talking about everything and anything while the kiddo plays on his own. It’s part of his bedtime routine and we usually leave him to do stuff by himself while we catch up for a bit.

Mr Thick: Oh Kate is in labour.

Me: I bet it’s a girl.

Mr Thick: How do you know?

Me: Don’t know. Just guessing. Actually, let me look at her pregnant photos.

(Googles for pictures of the pregnant Duchess of Cambridge.)

Me: It’s definitely a boy. I mean, look at that nose!

Mr Thick: What nose?

Me: THIS NOSE. Plus, she looks uglier in some photos. She has never looked ugly before she got pregnant. Therefore, it must be a boy.


That’s because I sported THE NOSE during my pregnancy. Never get between a mama and her nose (evidence below).

The organised chaos, Two of Us

Enjoying the good, good life

Last weekend, I attended my cousin’s wedding and for their photo montage, the couple used this song, OneRepublic’s “Good Life”.

It’s been stuck on my mind since then and as I put it on repeat mode (habit of mine, I can repeat a song a gazillion times, heh), I can’t help but reflect on the lyrics.

Because I’m really leading the good life now at 32.
(Yes, I realise I am revealing my age to the Internetz. And no, I don’t care, I’m proud of how old I am.)

Back in my teens, I was chasing popularity. I wanted desperately to be one of the popular girls but I failed miserably, what with my bad haircuts, thick glasses and bad skin. I wanted to be liked by everyone and I probably tried too hard.

In my 20s, I was seeking myself. Call it an existential angst if you want, but I was trying to find my place in life and the world. I didn’t know what I was good for and looked really hard to find a job that made me sing. I yearned to be one of those chic women with the latest IT bag and perfectly coiffed hair, high heels clicking in harmony.

And now that I am in my 30s, I am astonishingly comfortable in my own skin. I am no longer young and beautiful, true. But I am confident of who I am, of what I am. I love husband and we are still crazy in love. My little man has taught me patience, humility and gratitude and not a day goes by without him bringing us laughter and love.

This has gotta be the good life.

I don’t have that coveted Chanel bag. I’m not travelling half as much as I dreamed of. We often wonder why our bank accounts are not growing. Our flat is done up simply. I get a thrill from going grocery shopping.

But we make our lives. We decide that this is our life, this is how we intend to live, and we should make every day a good one.

Some days are harder than others, some nights drag on for longer than they should. But we are happy. And contented. Because there is so much to feel good about.

Speaking of weddings, the best parts are usually the montages and the speeches by the bride and groom. Montages are so run of the mill, it’s true, but it always warms my heart to see pictures of the couple as they were growing up, as well as those of them creating memories together. And the speeches, they tell you a lot about who they are, and what they went through in their relationship.

Every relationship is unique and each one has its own story. Ours is written here, for our son to read when he is older. And I love listening to these stories, I love hearing about how two people meet, fall in love and make it work.

I don’t really remember the details of the speech that my beloved gave on our wedding day. He sang to me and for me, and then said something about thanking me, about it being fated. I think. But the intense joy, the feeling that it was the most amazing day of our loves – that has stayed with me for the past four years. And as we approach our fifth year together, I’m glad that he’s by my side as my partner and the father of my baby.

This could really be the good life, the good, good life.

To my cousin and his wife, have a blessed marriage ahead that’s full of love and laughter. And thanks for reminding me that life is beautiful.

Jimmy & Yann – our lives, our faces, our love from Jimmy Liew on Vimeo.


Just 30 minutes will do

The husband left for a business trip in the early hours of Sunday morning.

For the first time since Aidan was born, I found myself doing all the parenting. In anticipation of the lack of sleep, I asked to leave work earlier this week. All I needed was between 15 and 30 minutes of extra time off, and my supervisor, being a new mother herself, kindly agreed.

And what a world of difference this extra time has made.

For once, I didn’t feel like I had to hurry to pick up my little man. There was no rush for me to get him, bring him home, feed him dinner, bathe him and then put him to bed. Those precious extra minutes that I had were enough to keep me calm.

And once home, I had the luxury of taking him downstairs for a jaunt after nursing and before dinner. We had time to slowly walk around the path, explore the fitness stations, pick up fallen leaves to throw them into the rubbish bin, exclaim at dogs and be friendly with other kids.

I found myself thinking that all I needed was these extra 30 minutes a day to be a better parent. To spend enough time with him before his bedtime. To do things like pick up pebbles and throw them into drains. To look at cars zooming by in silent awe.

If only I had these extra 30 minutes.

Leaving work early meant I could see the nephew and A playing together at my mother’s.

Motherhood, The organised chaos

Pink Dot SG 2013

A long, long time ago, before we were even thinking of having kids, I asked Mr Thick how he would feel if our child told us that he or she was gay.

“It doesn’t matter, as long as he is a good person with the right values. He is still our child,” he said.


When Pink Dot rolled around last year, Aidan was a teeny tiny bubs. We chucked him into the baby carrier and then walked around Hong Lim Park, soaking in the atmosphere and promising to return the following year.

We made good on that promise.

This time, we donned our best pink outfits and went down to Hong Lim Park again. Aidan was wearing his cute pink super hero teeshirt, I had on my fierce pink top (hah, the oxymoron!) and Mr Thick put on his spiffy pink shirt. We were quite the family, I’d say.

The mood at the park was electrifying and I was so glad that we brought Aidan there. He had so much fun, running around, grabbing balloons and looking around him in wide-eyed wonder. He was alternately charming and scaring the people there, and it was hilarious seeing grown men squealing in delight/horror at the sight of a toddler on the loose. (The women were all “AWW HE’S SO CUTE!”, it was the men who were polarised in their reactions, haha!)

It was important for us to support the cause. We want our child to grow up knowing that he has options and that he will be supported and loved by us, no matter whom he loves. We want him to grow up in a society that is inclusive.

Thankfully, 21,000 others shared our views. It may seem like a small number but progress has to start from somewhere.

I remain hopeful.