Oh Cecilia, You're Breaking My Heart

That song has absolutely no relevance to anything in my life right now (I don't know any Cecilias, therefore my heart cannot be broken by anyone named Cecilia), but it is 10.56pm on a work night (GASP!) and it was also the very last track to RPM 67, so - nope, still irrelevant, but I'm trying to keep with a theme here.

***

I decided that I had to blog about my first week of work because I managed to cook dinner on my first day of work (1 October, Thursday) and from the Sunday which followed that (4 October) to the Thursday after (8 October). Yes, I wanted (needed!) to hao lian, but I must also give credit to our new family member, whom I purchased with some Robinsons' vouchers I found lying around on the study table.

A cousin of our new family member, who looks exactly like him

Credit to random website which came up on Google

This was what I cooked. The menu for the work week starting on 5 October was inspired by The Kitchn's roast chicken meal plan.  

1 October: Slow-Cooker Vietnamese Roast Chicken from A Year of Slow Cooking. The night before, which was also my last night of no-pay leave (when I should have been vegetating in front of the TV for the last time), I stuck a layer of sliced onions in the bottom of the slow cooker insert, put about 8 or 9 small to medium sized Sakura skinless chicken thighs on top of those in a single layer, then poured the marinade over them. I stuck the entire insert into the fridge, and at 3pm that afternoon I sent my mother a message and told her to stick the insert into the slow cooker on "Low". When I got back around 6.45pm the chicken was lovely and tender and had that nice caramelised fish sauce aftertaste.

We went out for dinner on 2 October. One of the things I missed the most about working was anticipating going out to town on Friday night. Since we didn't have cell group, we went to Vivo City where we proceeded to eat a bit too much, but we HAD to get llao llao to celebrate my return to work. 

On 4 October, I roasted a chicken (seasoned it with just salt and pepper). Now, the NTUC fish counter aunties who can cut up the chicken for you and discard all the yucky bits like the head and feet never seem to understand me when I say "butterfly" (I have to pronounce it with a distinctly auntie accent, viz., bah-terh-fly). After having the chicken cut open at the breast bone and the chicken cut in two with the backbone still attached, I took to asking for the feet and head to be cut off and thrown away, and only the backbone removed but returned with the beheaded and de-feeted chicken... which came back to me with the backbone removed and cut in half. 

It actually does make a difference when roasting the chicken, to have it intact and not in two halves - the breast meat doesn't get as dry when the chicken is whole, but since the butcher service saves me from spraying my sink with chicken germs, I can't complain. Anyhow, so I roasted my two chicken halves, and we ate most of one half for dinner along with some roasted broccoli and cous cous. I saved the chicken bones.

On 5 October, I took the drumstick and thigh and chicken wing off the half chicken, shredded the breast meat, cooked some 2.5 minute soba (I threw in some thinly sliced kailan when the water first came to a boil and let that cook for a bit), and added the shredded chicken towards the end to warm it through. The soba cooking water was really tasty so we drank it after dinner, but dinner was essentially soba with chicken and kailan, and I stirred in some ginger scallion sauce (plenty of recipes out there, it got trendy after David Chang included a recipe for it in his Momofuku cookbook). All chicken bones were saved, together with the drumstick, thigh and chicken wing. 

On 6 October I made Niku Miso don with an almost hard-boiled egg (each). There are also plenty of recipes on the Internet which you can adapt to your liking, I just fried up some minced onion, garlic and ginger (you can grate it so you don't really see it after it's cooked), then added a tray of minced pork. After the pork was cooked through (you may need to add a touch of water), I set aside some for FBC before adding a sauce comprising soy sauce, miso paste, mirin and cooking sake in a 2:3:1.5:2ish ratio. Err, just taste as you go, miso pastes come in different levels of saltiness. After the sauce thickened I drizzled some sesame oil over it all, placed thinly sliced kailan on top, lowered the heat and covered the pot so the kailan would wilt in the residual heat. We ate this with rice. 

On 7 October I finally got round to making slow-cooker chicken stock! Again there are plenty of iterations of this out there (I think it started trending after Smitten Kitchen published a recipe for it). I just stuck all the chicken bones from my 4 October roast chicken and some chicken bones from another roast chicken which I had frozen into my slow cooker along with a sliced onion, about 3 small cloves of garlic, two bay leaves and half a carrot, roughly chopped. I used around 8 cups of water, which I think was too much. I cooked it on Low for about 12 hours, and it tasted a bit diluted to me when I got home so I took the lid off the slow cooker and turned it to High for a while. The evaporation did help to give it a more concentrated flavour, but I ended up adding about a tablespoon of tomato paste along with salt and pepper to give the stock more body. I also added in the remaining chicken parts I had saved, skin and all, so that helped the flavour as well. We ate this with mini fusilli and the remaining chicken parts, and some blanched broccoli.

On 8 October I Googled recipes for baked salmon, found this recipe from Natasha's Kitchen, decided parsley was too expensive - one box would cost almost the same as a coffeeshop meal - and so headed out to the mini-mart opposite our place when I got home, bought some stalks of coriander to use in lieu of the parsley, and some potatoes, and had dinner ready by 8.20pm. I was quite pleased with this achievement, and clean-up was minimal. Alright, I know not everyone will agree with that but there was just the bowl I used to mix the vinaigrette-like marinade in, the pot for the mashed potatoes, the potato masher, and my plate and utensils. Jon came back late so he had to eat from the mashed potato pot. 

***

Let's see how long this cooking thing lasts. Next week is pork week; tomorrow's dinner sits in the slow cooker insert in the fridge, waiting to be put into the slow cooker tomorrow morning. 

It also helps that my new workplace is about a 15-20 minute bus ride from my house, and we are going to buy a bicycle so I can cycle to work via the park connector. I am thankful to God for this posting, which literally materialised out of thin air when I was bopping up and down outside Kim's Family Restaurant at Lorong Kilat during an early Mother's Day celebration with Jon's family, trying to get a sick FBC to sleep.

***

Having finished haolian-ing, I have a thought that I want to share, which is the primary reason I have stayed up so late writing this (really!) although FBC is running a slight temperature and I really should go to bed because I forsook a nap in the afternoon to continue rereading American Gods.

Now and then, although FBC is already over a year old, I feel bad that I stopped breastfeeding so early. The bad feelings are mostly a combination of guilt and fear that I have disadvantaged him in some way; I was relieved when he started walking around the same time as other babies of the same age, and he also doesn't show any signs of obesity or being developmentally slow. It's all in my head, I know, but it's hard not to compare, to worry. 

But whenever I start working myself up about this, I remember the circumstances leading up to FBC's conception and birth; after everything Jon and I had gone through the year before, what was the point in continuing if our relationship was deteriorating because of someone who was meant to (and did, and still does) bring us so much joy, who was a clear sign of God's faithfulness in our lives? What did it matter, so long as he was well-fed, happy and healthy? 

***

Going back to work has been S. H. I. O. K. I know why I didn't go back earlier, but I'm still going to say it anyway: WHY DIDN'T I GO BACK EARLIER? 

What's Going On?

Two and a half days before I'm back at work! I can't believe I survived an entire year and a bit as an SAHM. Can you?

***

Thank you for hanging out with me here, if you've been keeping up with my posts since I decided to start blogging again. I think I would like to write about being a FTWM, so maybe we'll meet back here in near future, who knows? 

I suppose I should be waxing lyrical about how much my baby has grown (and feeling wistful at how fast he has grown) and how much I've enjoyed witnessing his milestones - FBC is now big, fat and noisy, weighing about four times as much as he did at birth. He babbles in the full belief that we understand him and he is having an actual conversation with us. He sings along with his encouraging singing helicopter which Jon's parents got him for his first birthday, also in the full belief that he is carrying a tune and not just babbling some more. He has started taking a few tentative steps unassisted, though he is a bit of a scardey-cat and lurches towards the nearest stable piece of furniture the moment he realises that he is actually walking. 

In all honesty, the past year has already melded into a blur of diaper changes and having sung Be Thou My Vision one too many times. Perhaps I will have tender memories of this period of time when FBC is older - it was only recently that I started to marvel at just how amazing it is that Jon and I (with God's blessing, of course) gave life to another person. Better late than never!

***

Being parents has led Jon and me to reminisce about our childhoods. It's funny how all these things I didn't even know I remembered have been coming to mind. 

I remember my father bringing me to West Coast Park to play before dropping me off (late) at kindergarten, and also him buying me the 'one ball one ball' ice cream in a cone. I remember that for everyone's birthdays for a good few years we had the lurid green kaya pandan coconut layer cake from Bengawan Solo, and "Happy Birthday" would be iced in clashing, festive, bright pink icing across the top. It was delicious but I'm not sure I would eat it today; would I eschew it in favour of a more "wholesome" Cedele cake? I remember hiding the cane with PoBe (Jon has similar memories), I remember being made to write lines and trying to finish them more quickly by going down the columns - for instance, if I had to write "I will do my homework before watching TV", I would write all the I's, followed by the will's, and so on and so forth. I don't remember actually completing all the lines, and that method resulted in some alarmingly crooked sentences. 

I remember listening to 'Top Of The World' on my father's hi-fi set in our old house, remember being scolded for getting 77/100 for a Math test when I was in primary three, remember turfing my father out of my parents' bed on weekends so I could lie there and talk to my mother (this carried on until I was quite old). I remember feeling upset with my mother whenever we went shopping because she would say that shopping centres gave her a headache and she would always want to go home before we bought anything, how come other peoples' mothers bring them shopping and they have so many nice clothes and now I am the one having headaches and dreading bringing my child(ren) to shopping malls on the weekends in the future, all the time wishing that I could dress them in Uniqlo forever and be done with it. I could, of course, if we just had boys, but I think it would be nice to have a little girl. Until she reaches puberty.  

The quarrels, the cuddles, the countless meals my mother cooked. The things which I am only now beginning to realise I took for granted, because that is the way of children. Such is the stuff memories are made of. 

***

FBC will not, of course, have any memory of his first birthday party, but I definitely will! I made everything from scratch as a birthday present to myself, from the crackers to the hummus (Googled and adapted so no real recipe) to the chicken curry shepherd's pie I spent nights dreaming up (I was fearful it would be an absolute failure but it was lovely), to the cake (yes, FBC was allowed to consume that much sugar), the mini pizzas which were topped with a riff on FBC's favourite butternut squash tomato puree and lots of cheese - because what is a kid's birthday party without kid-sized pizzas? - and the garlic and lemon pulled pork I cobbled together at the last minute because I feared there wouldn't be enough food. 

I intended to post recipes regularly when I started blogging again and this would be the perfect time for a recipe spam, this farewell to SAHM-hood (for now) post but firstly my phone up and died on me so I can't post pictures, and secondly, I'm feeling lazy. Drop me a line in real life if you would like to discuss anything I made, I'd be more than happy to do so. 

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I also wanted to blog about my path back to pre-pregnancy fitness but it seemed a bit odd to do so, it not being a very me thing to do, somehow, so I stopped. Since this is a round-up of the past year, I'll just say that I've actually been keeping up with yoga videos and yoga regularly, if I can't get to a yoga class I do yoga at least once a week at home. In terms of overall fitness I think I am stronger than I was before I got pregnant (from lugging FBC around, inter alia), I can maintain about 6:00/km for 10km or so, with my fastest split being about 5:51/km. All it takes is being ever so slightly obsessed (running at 4pm in the blazing heat because there is just no other time to do so), and a healthy dose of vanity. One thing I've learnt as well, that I will try to force myself to put into practice with my next pregnancy when it happens, is to be PATIENT with weight loss and getting back fitness. What's more there will be two babies (three, if you count Jon - haha) to look after and as obsessed and competitive as I am, there is no point pushing oneself that hard (but ask me again after I have no. 2).  

As much as I will miss being part of the Tai Tai Gym Gang (I made that up, it doesn't really exist and everyone at the Tai Tai Time spin classes looks at me as if I am either a university student or an errant employee), I am glad to be going back to work and being a Lunchtime Gym Rat again. And who knows, maybe this new place I am going to will afford me the flexibility to sorta kinda be part of the TTGG. 

***

Before I go, I know I said a few posts ago that I would write about discipline after I had given it some thought, and my views on it are that: (1) we agree with spanking; and (2) I can't wait until FBC is old enough to understand the concept of a naughty corner. It does get easier to tell when they are being naughty as opposed to just being babies - a couple of weeks can make all the difference. 

Till we meet again, it has been nice sharing my SAHM journey with you. 

Beautiful Day

Four more Wednesday morning spin classes and I'll be back at work full-time. It seems like just yesterday I was at the gym staring at the bottom of the swimming pool right after my no-pay leave was approved, wondering how on earth I was going to survive the many months ahead not being gainfully employed. 

***

It's the last day of August, and it is evident that I haven't felt much like writing the past month. I cooked many things - as I went through a severe spate of boredom at the beginning of August, I decided that we should host a pizza party at our place over the SG50 public holiday. I made oodles of pizza dough and pizza sauce (I used half a teaspoon of ground fennel and crushed canned tomatoes instead of tomato sauce) and while the guys were playing soccer, I expended lots of eye power directing the wives and girlfriends in the rolling out and making of many thin crust pizzas which were devoured with suitable appreciation. I also made a humongous shepherd's pie, macaroni and cheese, and Xinjiang spiced chicken drumlets and mid-joints, in a bid to prevent the guys from ordering the special spicy National Day chicken from KFC. The mix of spices I used can be found here, and I also added some soy sauce to the marinade. You can bake the chicken in a 170C fan-forced oven for about 25-30 minutes. If you're using bigger drumsticks/ chicken parts and making a smaller batch as per the original recipe, you can dredge the chicken parts in cornstarch before sticking them in the oven. Roast them for about 15 minutes on one side, then flip them to the other side and roast for 15 minutes, then flip them back and roast for about 10-15 minutes or until nicely golden brown. 

The beginning of August also saw Jon going for three weeks of reservist. Just before it started, he was confident that he would be able to come home early for dinner every day and that it wouldn't be too taxing a programme. He was dead wrong, and this led to much unhappiness and quarrelling during the first week. To top it all off, FBC was sick that week, finally succumbing fully to whatever he had picked up during the Home Improvement Scheme with EASE ("HISWE", and what an inaccurate name for something which was not easy At All).

The period during which FBC was sick was one of the lowest points of this entire SAHM journey thus far. I was exhausted from having to constantly clean up after the HISWE took place in our flat, and was recovering from whatever virus it subsequently transpired FBC had caught as well, despite my hoping against hope that it wouldn't escalate. 

There is a Thursday which stands out in my memory, it must have been the week after the SG50 public holiday. I'd dropped FBC off at my in-laws', and when I picked him up, was told that he had been as good as gold when he was there, and had eaten all his Heinz baby food without complaint. When we got home, it was as if someone somewhere had turned on a cranky switch, and he refused to nap or be left alone. When it came to dinner time, he refused to eat any of the food I had prepared. It would be apt, for dramatic effect, to say that I had prepared it "painstakingly", but as I had the use of my thermal pot and really, tasty porridge is all a matter of time once you have one of those, I shall not toot my own horn (seeing as I have already done it when describing our SG50 pizza party. Hur hur hur). He spat out whatever I could get into his mouth, which included some bits of spare rib which I later found rolled into a short, thin, grey roll on the living room floor. 

In hindsight, the virus was probably beginning to take hold and FBC had probably just been too distracted at my in-laws' to unleash his unhappiness at being ill. But I didn't know - babies can't bleddy communicate with adults in a way the latter understand, can they?! - and I felt bitter and outraged because I felt like I had done so much for him but he couldn't even behave himself properly at home.

Of course, FBC also woke up about twice that night and was inconsolable. Usually he is quite good and goes right back to sleep if you give him a bottle, and he sleeps through the night unless he is going through some growth or other developmental spurt. 

This did nothing for my mood, and because I still refused to believe that he was falling sick, when he refused to take his mid-morning nap the next day and kept making noise and wanting to be carried, I was so frustrated and angry that I left him in his cot, went to the kitchen, and swore in a loud, angry whisper (can a whisper be loud? Thankfully, I still retained enough of my sanity to exercise some self-restraint). I also declared in the same tone that I hated being a SAHM, ****** this ******. I leave it to you to fill in the asterisks with your choice of swear words (the ones I used don't require six asterisks. FYI). 

After that, repentant, I went back to FBC's room, gave him a hug, asked for his forgiveness, and prayed with him. I asked God to forgive me for losing my cool, and I asked Him for patience and understanding. I told FBC that I was trying very hard to understand him but I just couldn't, unfortunately, and I prayed that even though I didn't know what was wrong with him, that God would comfort him in his distress. And of course, I prayed that FBC would just SLEEP. Which he did. 

FBC only developed a fever a day or two after that episode and a few more nights of wailing and having to be carried and sung to for hours on end. Which was when I realised that I had been terribly unfair to him, and that he had just been sick all that time. But that's looking after a baby, and human nature, for you. What can we do but strive to give it our best, and depend on God's grace when we're spent?  

What this experience taught me was not to take what babies do so personally. Most of the time, they have no idea that certain things they do hurt their primary caregiver (especially if you're their mother), and they are just unable to express that they are feeling uncomfortable and distressed in a language other than Inconsolable Crying (a dialect of Whale and Seal), in actions other than Carry Me Or I Will Continue This Horrible Screeching.

I think it is good that I have reached this understanding, especially since it has enabled me to see other things more rationally, for instance that ALL caregivers should be working together for the good of the child and my unhappiness that FBC sometimes prefers his grandmothers to me (wouldn't you, if you had a mother who left you crying unhappily in your cot while she went to the kitchen to whisper swear?) has no place in this scheme. Also as a parent, my job is not to be liked all the time. Which brings me to the issue of Discipline, and that I will share about when I've thought about it a bit more. 

***

I met B on Saturday, and she asked me what I missed about working life. I said that I missed interacting with adults, but what I missed the most was probably having time to myself and not having to worry about someone else... And as I said it, I realised that I would never not be worrying about someone else ever again. There's a double negative there, so what I mean is that I will always be worrying about FBC, and I miss the feeling of not having him to worry about. 

***

I took the bus home from lunch with R and Z today, and as FBC banged his head against my chest, eyes closing, I looked at our reflection in the plastic panel in front of us and smiled wistfully at myself, already nostalgic for these languid, sunny days where we had the luxury of these long bus rides together. 

Why Do Babies Do THAT?

If I knew, I'd be a millionaire on your money. #(!$#(*@#*&!!!%!^!