Bounce Attack

Before we had Andrew, I spent too much time thinking about how he would be “so poor thing” because I was already plotting my return to work when he was 2 months old (didn’t happen), and I wouldn’t be spending as much time with him as I did with Daniel in his first year, etc. Plus the parenting books (not that I read any, but I have heard this advice from various friends) all advocate putting your firstborn’s needs first whenever possible, because they are more likely to remember feeling slighted and left out. This I agree with, and have put into practice. I don’t think I’m alone in having these thoughts, but it struck me recently that being No. 2 is actually not that bad. So here is my list of reasons why being No. 2 is not “so poor thing” after all, or, “An Exposé on The Extent of Our Derelict Parenting Methods”

1. You are read to from a young age

Before Daniel turned one-and-a-half or so, I was forever worrying (amongst 1001 other things) about whether I was reading to him enough. My mother would go on about “instilling good reading habits from young”; various articles posted by friends on Facebook advocated the same thing. I grew up reading lots of books (I wish I had time to read as much I used to), and I’m all for Daniel and Andrew growing up to enjoy the pleasures of literature.

But have you ever tried reading to an infant who is more interested in squirming around, doesn’t pay attention to you, is more interested in trying to eat the pages of the book you are reading, and generally doesn’t appear to GAF about the effort you are putting in to do the voices for the different characters?

Thankfully, despite my lack of motivation to read to him before he started showing a genuine interest in books, Daniel now enjoys listening to stories and keeps asking us to read to him*, which means that Andrew benefits from this. When he is listening and looking at the pictures in the books, that is. Which lasts maybe 5 minutes max, before he starts cruising around in his cot and whining to be let out so he can eat the pages of the book we are reading.

*We recently discovered the Usborne Farmyard Tales series of books, which is sold at NTUC. Something possessed me to purchase The Old Steam Train for Daniel during a recent trip to the supermarket, and he’s now obsessed with collecting the ones featuring trains and tractors (there are a few, and there are thumbnail images of the front covers of all the books on the inside of the back cover). The books are apparently tailored specially for small children in terms of language, and to make things more interesting, there are small yellow ducks “hiding” on every page.

They must also be the most deathly boring series of books known to Parentkind. Sometimes, to amuse ourselves, Husband and I will translate the text to Chinese on the spot as we are reading. So “Apple Tree Farm”, where the farmer, Mrs Boot (鞋太太, because we don’t know what “boot” is in Chinese) and her two children Poppy (波比) and Sam (沙母) live is “苹果树农场”. Yesterday, we decided that Rusty, their dog, should be referred to as “生锈狗狗”. There is a Mr Boot (鞋先生) as well, but he seems to be working very hard in the fields or driving the old steam train (the story is about how it and the village’s station were refurbished, presumably to promote tourism). Or whatever it is he does for a living.

2. You get to watch TV way earlier than No. 1

Yay, lucky Andrew. That being said, I am all for no screen time. Daniel rarely watches anything on our mobile phones (the only exception being when he had to be nebbed for about 10 days last year), and I have forbidden Husband from purchasing a tablet. All shows are watched on TV, which is why we only ever seem to be watching Dinotrux and have to wait for Paw Patrol to come on (but from the few episodes we have managed to catch, Dinotrux FTW). When I’m cooking or doing other miscellaneous household chores, I usually stick Andrew in his cot in the living room (Daniel sits on the sofa) and turn on Dinotrux.

But what I realised from my experience with Daniel is that up to a certain age, maybe two plus plus, they don’t really bother about what’s going on on TV either. Daniel only started properly paying attention to Dinotrux maybe a month or two ago (he’s about 2 years and 8 months old), and even then, he sometimes loses interest about halfway through an episode (maybe because we’ve watched them all at least 5 times?) and starts playing with his wooden blocks and Duplo, or comes to the kitchen demanding to eat “bingcuits” (饼干 + biscuits. My child is clearly a genius, and putting the bilingual education much vaunted by his childcare to good use). Andrew just looks at the TV screen for 5 minutes max, then goes back to cruising around his cot and whining to be let out so he can get at Daniel’s toys and the remote controls to chew them (does anyone else sense a theme around here?).

I’m not saying we should just throw the AAP’s recommendations regarding children and screen time out the window, but it hasn’t been all that bad for us so far. Daniel sometimes has minor tantrums when I say we cannot watch anymore Dinotrux (usually after 3-4 episodes, each is around 20 minutes) or I tell him I want to watch another show (he really has no interest at all in the cooking shows or Korean dramas) but like all other children, is easily distracted and believes in the power of “Tomowwoe?”

3. The composition of your gut flora gets more complex much sooner

I used to make feeble efforts at wiping down high chairs in restaurants before Daniel sat in them. With Andrew, I don’t even try. He is also finally teething and regularly puts toys and the remote controls (see point above) in his mouth. I washed all the toys with Dettol after we had HFMD, but not since then, and definitely not on a regular basis (you may not want to touch the toys in our house when you come over).

While this has led to a bit of diarrhea – though less often and in much less quantities than before – I console myself with S’s observation that the bacterial composition in his intestines is improving, and he is building immunity. This seems to be somewhat true, or it could be due to the Intestinal Quality (I.Q.) of Similac*.

*I only realised some months after Daniel started Stage 3 formula (one year plus) that I.Q. stood for “Intestinal Quality”. I blame the teddy bear in a graduation cap and gown.

But frankly speaking, do the research (the Internet may generally be anti-formula feeding but there are some good resources if you can get through all the vitriol of the first few hits), read and compare the ingredients list, and make a choice! Advertising, schadvertising.

4. There is more “equal parenting” (i.e. time with Daddy)

Faced with the prospect of a toddler yelling for Mummy and banging on his bedroom door at bedtime, or sitting in a darkened room letting a 9-month-old crawl around your bed tiring himself out, most fathers would wisely choose the latter option and allow their wives to get on with putting the toddler to bed. Same principles apply to just about any other family activity, which means No. 2 gets to spend a more balanced amount of time with both parents.

I don’t expect this to last that much longer because Andrew is already showing signs of wanting me to put him to bed as well, and is at times unhappy when I hand him over to Husband, but I think Husband has spent a lot more time with him than he did with Daniel at the same age. Granted, I was a SAHM for a year with Daniel, but overall, Andrew seems much happier to be with Husband than Daniel was at the same age.

5. Milking your cute fatness for what it’s worth

Lastly, there will be a period of time where you can just sit around looking cute and fat, and all you have to do is break out in random smiles at opportune moments, to elicit looks of love and copious hugs from your parents. You will observe, in comparison, that your parents seem to be perpetually telling your older sibling off for some misdemeanour or other, and bask smugly in your cute fatness. This actually brings about its own set of problems for your parents, who must make an extra effort to affirm your older sibling and make sure they don’t feel like they are always being scolded whilst you get all the cuddles, but you should enjoy it while it lasts, because your turn will come one day, someday soon.

 

Like A Laserlight (Training for Half-Marathon, Part 5 of 5)

Week 5 & Race Day (24 April 2017- 30 April 2017)

It is, as always, late, and I am tired, as usual; but I feel today that I need to write, so here it is - Part 5 of 5 of my Training for Half-Marathon series. I don't think I will ever enter a similar giveaway again, and even if I do, I'm not likely to blog about the process because it's actually not a very me thing to write about, and veers too much into haolian territory for my liking. That being said, I think there has been value in documenting my life regularly for the past five weeks, and if you've followed along and encouraged me in real life, thank you. Training for and running this half-marathon meant a lot, especially since we had to deal with HFMD, then food poisoning, in those five weeks. Chunks of toughened dead skin are still coming off the soles of my feet, and I can just about make out the outline of the rashes on the palms of my hands. 

I didn't achieve my (slightly unrealistic) goal of running a sub-2, and I don't think I have recovered from my mummy burnout (see Part 1, perhaps I will remain just ever so slightly burnt out from being a parent for the rest of my life), but crossing the finish line on Sunday in 2:07:09 brought me great joy, and a quiet kind of satisfaction and contentment. For the first time since giving birth to Daniel almost three years ago, I finally understood why there were all these articles and blog and Instagram posts on the Internet about how amazing women's bodies are, to have borne and given birth to another human being and still be able to do X Y Z (etc., to be honest, I still find this sort of thing eye-roll-inducing). Given my past history of obsessing over my body image, I had a particularly hard time accepting, after giving birth, that my body would never be the same again - so while other women seemed to be embracing all the changes motherhood brought on - curves, fuller breasts and the like (I have the ability to feed my baby with my body!, and I'm all, What the f**k, I am failing at this) all I could think of was how much more difficult it was to put on a sports bra (I refused to buy a bigger size), and how I couldn't just slide in and out of my shorts anymore, never mind that I was at least able to get them on and button them somewhat comfortably.  

But it is amazing, when you stop and think about it: when your almost threenager holds a proper conversation with you, when your nine-month old stands, unassisted, for just a few seconds; and then you recall the glimpse you caught of the saggy, wrinkly skin around your waist in the mirror as you were changing, and realise that you don't really care anymore. You gave birth to two persons!!!*

*I haven't gone round the bend yet, so I will not say that "I am proud of my tummy because it is a mark of what my body has been through." SRSLY. And hopefully I haven't unleashed two terrors on the rest of society. 

***

Taper week workouts aren't much to shout about - I made a considered decision to forego RPM and instead went for a swim on Tuesday (25th), and did a short run of about 4km + 8 strides (20 seconds) at the park connector during lunch on Wednesday (26th) because I just couldn't face doing more distance on the treadmill after last week's epic 14km. It was quite cool although the sun was out, thankfully. On Friday I decided to work from home in a bid to get some rest because I felt a little under the weather, and managed to get in a quick run at the Ngee Ann Poly track before picking up the boys, doing some timed kilometre splits to gauge the effort level for the pace I wanted to maintain for most of the run (about 5:40/km. Which I think happened for a good part of the second half, but I wasn't keeping track). All the spare time and energy I suddenly had during lunch went towards worrying about whether it would rain on race day and whether I was eating enough and in the right proportions, amongst other things, but quite by chance, I came across this blog post by Amelia Boone, an obstacle course runner (racer?) in the US. She wrote it after being out of action for a while due to injury, and the essence of it was this:

And these past few months have been a process of realizing, and accepting, that I’m not going to “get back.” And I shouldn’t want to. Because we change – we grow. Our goal should never be to return to the athletes that we once were. It should be to chart a new course. To build a new identity. To define our own terms.

She went on to say that the same thing about accepting that we would never be the same person again applies in other aspects of life; for me, I  would add that it is one of the fundamental tenets of Christianity:

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. - 2 Corinthians 5:17

With these thoughts came gratitude, last Sunday morning, for the ability to enjoy something as simple as a good, long run; free, if only for those precious fleeting moments, from the demands of motherhood and real life. As I told R over Telegram as I ate breakfast alone at Da Paolo Paragon after the race, I've learnt that maybe we shouldn't be looking out for "big" signs from God. Perhaps He shows Himself to us through blessings that may seem trivial and very #firstworldproblems, but are no less an indication that He cares about every intimate detail of our lives, sees our frustrations and unmet desires, shares in our joy, and delights in our contentment. For instance, Daniel responded well to the Physiogel AI Cream*, which was recommended to me by a random pharmacy in Bukit Batok which I had gone to at the advice of Andrew's teacher at childcare, and slept through the night on Friday - the most important sleep is 2 days before a race, because you'll have pre-race jitters the night before - which made up for the terrible night's sleep the night before the race.

*At S$53.90 for 100ml, he'd better.

***

Post-race, Daniel's eczema sores didn't magically disappear, and the house was in greater disarray than usual when we got home from church, thanks to my not being around that morning. This was my eighth half-marathon, and unlike the previous seven, I didn't have the luxury of putting my feet up, taking a good nap, then waking up and doing nothing more strenuous than watch some TV and have sashimi. I was snappy, my blood sugar was low but my appetite hadn't kicked in yet, and I wanted the kids to shut up and leave me alone. I especially wanted Daniel to just be a big boy already and stop all the scratching so his poor skin would have a chance to heal. I thought longingly of the days when I didn't have children and was free to do whatever I pleased, and didn't have them to worry about... And then I remembered what I had thought about accepting that I would never be the same person again, and resolved to try to live that way. There are many things I have said to Daniel in anger that I am not proud of, and when I reflect on my reaction, I figure it's due largely to my inability to accept that he is only human, and therefore flawed and imperfect (like his reluctance to pee in the potty, and his inability to control the urge to scratch the eczema). Being a parent, being able to care for a child in sickness and in health, going through the process of learning to love them unconditionally and putting their needs above yours, is as great a privilege as it is a responsibility, and is something I think I am only just beginning to grasp.

***

Wah, all that just from one half-marathon training cycle, and not even a "major" one like SCMS (SCSM?) or Sundown.  I assure you I was not like this about running before I had children. I'll see you back here when I am next struck by something to write about, but till then, see you on Facebook and Instagram. 

Training for Half-Marathon: Part 4 of 5 (finally!!!!)

Week 4 (17 April 2017 – 23 April 2017)

TL;DR: This update (if you’re still following along!) is coming a day late because I was really tired out by last week, which was probably due to Husband having a legal retreat and leaving early and coming home late almost every day and still having to work (poor Husband). It’s different from when he’s actually on work travel, because he doesn’t come back at odd hours, and we are not suddenly awoken by the light being on in the living room or the study, which is all quite not conducive for sleep.

It’s probably also thanks in no small part to Daniel’s eczema flaring up – there is nothing more galling, I can assure you, than a 2.5 year old coming to your bed whining, scratching, and refusing to speak coherently at 3am in the morning.  At least he stopped vomiting after Wednesday, but there are patches of dried blood on all the bedsheets in the house which I have accepted are not coming out.

Having decided to blog every week about this nonsense has made me realise that I’m much better off being an employee and having a stable income, instead of working from home and finding some freelance writing to do (which was something I seriously considered after I had Daniel). I don’t have enough confidence in my non-legal writing anyway, so I think I’ll stick to assessing sticky situations and drafting contracts. Am also coming closer to deciding to close shop because how to have a third child and no live-in helper and still have a full-time office job?

I was also informed by someone close to me that my writing is neither amusing, nor irritating – it’s boring, because it’s more or less always about the same thing. I mean, seriously, how exciting were you expecting parenthood and long-distance running to be?!

Because I’m tired, my confidence is at an all-time low despite my having gotten in some good work-outs the past week. I’m praying for a good taper week and some good nights of sleep, although Husband is in the Philippines again from Monday to Wednesday. But what to do? Nobody said it was easy… And nobody said it would be this hard.  Will I be there at the start?

Monday, 17 April
5 minute warm-up, 8km in 45minutes

Tuesday, 18 April
30 minute swim

Wednesday, 19 April
Last big work-out for this training cycle, and I hope I didn’t over-exhaust myself doing it. I posted about this on Instagram already, but here it is again:

5min warm-up at 6:15/km
6km x 2, average 5:42/km with 5min rest in between sets at 6:30/km
3min+++ cool down, for a total of 14km in about 1h 22min.

As mentioned, this was done on a treadmill so I’m not sure how this translates when running outdoors. But really no choice, and it was a good last effort I think. It will have to do.

This was one of those days where you’re mentally drained and so ready for the day to be over even before you leave the house, so I’m not sure, on retrospect, that it was a good idea to push through with this last work-out because I definitely wasn’t in the right frame of mind for it. From the time we woke up to the time we left the house, there were poos from each of the boys, a vomit and a tantrum from Daniel (the tantrum being more exhausting than cleaning up the poos and the vomit combined). I can’t remember what it was about anymore, but I think it had something to do with wanting to wear a t-shirt underneath his school uniform and/ or wanting to take Duplo into the shower when I washed his bum. Or putting plasters over his eczema sores (I know it’s best to let them air-dry but that is unfortunately where we’re at now). Or something. As you can see, I have already blocked out the awfulness of it all from my memory.

The workout did leave me in a better mood for the rest of the day, so I suppose if I crash and burn on the 30th, this run would not have been in vain.

Thursday, 20 April

Easy running drills and lots of stretching and rolling thereafter with my PT.

Friday, 21 April

Yoga with G, who was covering Joyce. This was fun, because he doesn’t take yoga too seriously (setting intentions, being kind to your body and all that “spiritual” mumbo-jumbo blah, blah – okay I know for lots of people that’s the point but I just want to burst out laughing whenever the instructor says things like that).

Saturday, 22 April

It would have been nice if I could have spent the whole day sleeping, but Husband had IPPT in the morning (Silver, so sad – if we didn’t get food poisoning last week we’re quite sure he could have pushed for Gold, he was only a couple of seconds off in the 2.4) and Daniel kept asking to “Take the bus train with Mummy”, so after Husband came back we braved going to JEM on a weekend because I wanted to get my watch strap fixed. It wasn’t too bad, and thankfully we had the foresight to plan it such that Husband drove there with Andrew whilst I took Daniel there on the bus and train. And we took a long detour on our drive home and caught a glimpse of the port and the cranes, another of Daniel’s favourite things to do.

Sunday, 23 April

Easy run, about 7km. I read somewhere that people find it difficult to slow down during their easy runs, so I consciously made myself do so (honestly, running slowly may actually be harder than running hard) and walked and stopped for a bit whenever I felt tired. It was really humid, which helped in the slowing down process, but also created lots of room for self-doubt. Paced random dude at the end, when it had cooled down considerably and was a lot less humid, so ended the run feeling a bit better about things.

***

And that’s a wrap. There will be some easy runs and RPM in race week, but no more hard workouts (thank God. Can’t wait to go for more yoga again, slack in one corner, and look forward to falling asleep in shavasana… Until it’s time to train for the next race). Given my current physical and emotional state, despite the work I’ve put in, I think I’d be really lucky (is blessed a more correct word?) to hit the timing I want on Sunday, so I’m preparing myself to let it go and enjoy being out in the cold morning air. Running in Singapore at unearthly hours is quite pleasant, if you can get over the mental barriers and out of bed.  And if you aren’t woken up 2 hours before you were due to wake up for the run by your children.

See you at the finish line (unless I am forced to DNS or DNF).

Training for Half-Marathon: Part 3 of 5

Week 3 (Monday, 10 April 2017-Sunday, 16 April 2017)

Are you bored yet? When I was doing intervals this week, as much as I enjoyed them, the truth of something Husband said about running (and track and field, and sports events in general I guess) struck me - a lot of it is just doing the same thing over and over and over again. This week's interval workout consisted of 16x400m, which I did on Tuesday, i.e. two days after I was certified properly free of HFMD. Sustained a 5:13-5:20/km pace for each 400m interval, with a one minute rest at 6:00-6:15/km between each, for a total distance of about 12km in 1:09:40. Could have pushed it, but decided not to. 

Monday's workout was a short 20 minute run followed by strength training with my PT, and to ease myself back into cardio workouts, I went for RPM on Wednesday and Thursday at lunchtime. 

Friday, 14 April

This was Good Friday. Normally we'd have gone to church, but there was only one service at 8pm, so we didn't go this year. I took Daniel with me to collect my race pack (if you follow me on Instagram you would have seen the update), and was reminded of why I don't particularly enjoy races in Singapore anymore. They're just too crowded, there are too many freebies in the race pack and at the bazaars accompanying the race pack collection which nobody really uses (which pains me - all that plastic, all those resources which could have been put to better use) and there is this lingering scent of muscle rub in the air. I wonder why I was so onz about entering this giveaway in the first place. I can hear Husband's voice in my head: I told you so!

Daniel is really happy that we took the bus and the train together, though. If only his needs would remain this simple.

Saturday, 15 April 

H was in town for the weekend, so we took her to our favourite cafe near our house for brunch. We ate our usual chicken curry and kaya toast, I had ice lemon tea siu dai and Jon had kopi-c siu dai. All was fine and dandy until after our afternoon naps. 

I woke up to go for a run - it was the perfect evening for it, chilly and cloudy after the afternoon rain, the type of evening where you could really kill a workout. But I woke up feeling extremely nauseous, like first trimester nauseous, and I could feel the brunch churning around in my stomach. I made myself throw up (no, I do not have an eating disorder nor am I pregnant again - Aunt Flo just visited, thank God) and forced myself out to the PCN. Managed 12km or so (wasn't tracking) at a disappointing pace. It was a really discouraging run, given all the training I had put in thus far (and after you have children, do you know how hard it is to come by days with perfect running conditions? In fact, both children were fast asleep when I left the house), but on hindsight, I think the fact that I managed to complete it although I felt like throwing up every single minute of that one and a half hours is commendable. 

I got home, Daniel came bounding to the front door to greet me, and promptly threw up the contents of his brunch at my feet. Soon after, Husband started feeling sick and started throwing up too. He commented that he now knew what vomiting in the first trimester must feel like. (Seriously. As if a MAN would ever understand.)

Husband and Daniel spend the next 2-3 hours throwing up intermittently. Husband makes it to the toilet each time, Daniel doesn't. Andrew, bless his dear little heart (thankfully he is still mostly on formula and not on table food), goes to bed without much fuss. The pile of laundry grows, and there are still Andrew's bottles to be washed. Thankfully, after I spend about an hour wrapped up in a blanket on my bed and shivering, God hears my prayers and I feel well enough to do some laundry and wash the bottles.

We are unable to isolate the cause of our food poisoning, but I think we will have to (sadly) lay off going to our favourite cafe for a while. I won't post its name here, because we really like the place and the owners, and we can't be certain it was their food, but it's easy enough to find out if you Google (also if you know where I stay. Haha). In any event, if it was really their food, it was probably a one-off. We've been eating there for months with no incident. H was fine as well, so it may have been the Dairyworks Edam Cheese Sticks which I got for Daniel as a reward for being so well-behaved at NTUC, but it seems unlikely given that they're vacuum packed. 

Sunday, 16 April

Husband and I wake up feeling a bit weak, but generally okay and looking forward to finally going to church and celebrating Easter Sunday. 

About halfway to church, Daniel does a massive vomit, like the kind you HAVE to go home to clean up. So that is exactly what we do, and throughout the day, he has about three more vomits and I do three loads of laundry and I am so tired and I wonder if I'm going to post a DNS in two weeks' time.

Oh, woe is me, whine whine whine. I am rolling my eyes at myself as I type this, because Welcome To Parenthood, right? And who am I to whine, when I was the one who stubbornly refused to get live-in help???  

***

If you can't already tell, I'm feeling pretty exhausted and disappointed in the week.  It got off to a pretty good start, and I was optimistic about hitting some good running times this long weekend. I managed to get a nice crackly skin on my baked twee bah on Monday quite by accident, and we were all feeling upbeat about our impending release from the scourge of HFMD. It was also a short week, which would end in time of reflection and celebration of our faith... Well, I still had that time of reflection, just that I was lying in my bed at 1.30am feeling too cold and wondering if these things (HFMD, the food poisoning just as Husband's quarantine ended) were perhaps God's way of telling me to trust in Him to provide the strength, patience and grace to get through and still run this (literal) race at the end of these five weeks. I can't help but keep thinking back to the GEWR 2015 and how the haze was literally washed away just in time for it.

It's not like it's a big deal, really. There will be other races when the kids are older, hopefully overseas (better weather, more sane start times). But it would be nice to post a good timing. Husband is right though, as he usually is about these things - I should just enjoy it, as I have before, and as I hope to do so for many more years to come. 

***

Daniel insisted that I be the one to clean him up every single time he vomited or pooed this weekend. Drained as I was, I actually found this rather touching. Andrew, too, insisted that I carry him whenever I had my hands free. I also found this rather touching.

I just checked, and no, I am not running a fever. It is, however, quite late. Here's to Week 4, and if you've made it thus far without thinking Why do I still bother reading this auntie's rambly blog, thank you.