Weaning

Chinese people are obsessed with weaning their kids.

When you successfully wean your kids off the pacifier, or the bottle or the diaper; old Chinese relatives will come up to you, shake your hand and lead you to your place in the hallowed halls of parenthood whereupon your name will be inscribed upon hugh marble tablets and displayed for the whole village to see.

On the other hand, if your child is at the ripe old age of 4 and still on the bottle and diaper, you will bring shame to your entire clan and distant relatives in an old forgotten shanty in the remotest part of China will commemorate this disgrace annually by thumping their heavy wooden clogs on a photograph of you.

Jesse turned 4 just last month but he still very much on the bottle and he needs his diaper at night. We decided early on to lay off his case and let things take their natural course. Besides, he's our little boy and we're not really rushing for him to grow up.

But last night, our little boy comes to that all-important decision. "Diapers are for babies," he proclaims out loud. "Jesse is a big boy already." And just like that, our boy is off the diaper. No fuss, no muss. His parents, however, are having trouble adjusting. Last night we slipped a plastic sheet under him, just in case. We also got up countless times to check the sheets. But no, he didn't need none of that. He was all good and ready.

Hmm... maybe next week, he'll stop using the bottle.

Heya

September 16, 2008. Elsewhere, life goes on... :)

Quickie Updates

Been MIA from the blog again, so here's some quick updates.

SICKLY BOY
Jesse's been sick a lot lately. Coughing like an old man. So much so, he actually puked a couple of time. One time, his Grandpa was buying us dinner at San Francisco Steak House and the boy was enjoying an ice cream dessert when he suddenly wailed. I knew at once he was gonna puke. I told Mae to take him to the toilet but the poor boy never made it. Thankfully he hurled right outside the toilet door, away from the other diners. I carried him afterwards and as he clutched on to me, he looked up at me all teary-faced and ask, "Daddy, what's wrong with me?" Broke my heart to pieces.

RENOVATIO
We're moving. And hence, renovating. It's a pain in the ass, especially if you're a nitpicky bastard like me. I can't decide if I want the wardrobe 6 inches wider, or the lightswitches half an inch lower, or the sink an inch to the right. These things bug me so much that I bring a measuring tape to bed with me, just so I can think about it. My indecision should cost me a lot of wasted time. But my contractor doesn't really give a damn, so it all works out in the end. Bleh.

NEW MAID
Anie's gone. By Thursday she will be out of our lives, and quite prematurely too. The sneaky girl somehow managed to secretly buy herself a mobile phone and kept it hidden for months. Turns out she had been calling up some guy at a minimarket near our home. It was all very clandestine and we're a little concerned. If she had been calling home, we might have been more understanding, and perhaps more forgiving. We decided she was a security risk and that she should leave. But at the same time, we feel sorry about sending her away. She's like family. Just family with secrets. *sigh* Jesse will be devastated.

PROJECT BLOG
As if I dun already suck at updating, I've been thinking about a new blog. One little space for the little projects I do - like decorating and renovating. And designing. And craft. We'll see. Maybe I'll procrastinate my way out of this one too.

PHOTOS
This could be a much nice blog if I can get off my ass long enough to scan some photos, or even to download them from my camera. Ugh. I have shots of Jesse and me with Ultraman Max. I got pictures of my contractor. I have shots of Jesse doing homework and it's really cute too. Heh. I suck at blogging. Oh, I said that already.

That's all folks. Till next time.

Hurled

Last night, Jesse blew chunks. And right in our bed too.

According to Einstein's lesser known Theory of Abdominal Regurgitation™, the Ickiness index™ of human vomit increases exponentially with the age of the said human. In his infancy, a typical human child, during the occasion of any random gastrointestinal expulsion, will expel a projectile that is low on the Ickiness Index™. The quality of the said vomit will be of a transluscent white liquid, fluid consistency that emits a pleasant aroma - often associated with babies and breakfast cereal.

As the human child progresses in age, his projectiles will be higher up the Ickiness Index™ demonstrating a thicker consistency often coupled with solid masses. The colour will also be darker usually with a spectrum of hues, and the odour unbearable.

The poor boy must have drank a little too much milk. He'd gone to sleep for almost an hour when he started coughing and hacking. And the next thing we knew, the boy's supper was making a comeback. He sat up on bed looking all groggy and disoriented after the first wave, and I quickly recognised that as the calm before the storm.

I lifted my t-shirt up to his face and he let loose all over it. We quickly gave him a wipe down and a change of jammies and he went back to bed as though nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Daddy spent the next hour (almost, I kid you not) spraying the gook off the sheets and the shirt. It was a light brown gelatinous liquid with half-digested Nyonya Kueh, corn kernels and a bloody blueberry. And it refused to come off.

Gross. And yeah, it's gonna get worse. *sigh*

Feeling The Love

Today, it was my turn again to pick Jesse up from school. I was running 15 minutes late and was still only on the way. And so I call the wife for a consult.

"Oh my God," the wife mocks me. "You're such a lousy father!" she said with an evil cackle. She was having a field day getting back at me.

Meanwhile, I was a little worried that my boy might start to panic when I didn't show up at 11:45 am. People say kids have this inner clock that tells them when their lousy fathers are late, which in turn launches them into a panic attack. But thankfully, Jesse was all happy and cheery when he saw me. But I figured I would explain myself anyway.

"Daddy was doing so much work," I explained. I further went on to assure him I did the best I could. He listened intently. "Daddy ran to the car like a crazy person and quickly drove here to pick Jesse up!"

He looked up at me, whimpered like a grateful little puppy and cradled my left arm, nesting his head upon it appreciatively. Then he smiled as he repeated after me, "Daddy ran like a crazy person to pick Jesse up". And with that little gesture I could truly feel the love.

My little boy loves me for just showing up. *sniff*

True Lies

"Ko-Ko Norman kicked me," Jesse lamented, "and I'm very upset."

Mommy had taken Jesse along with her to a friend's place and our little boy had been looking forward to it all day. Norman is 3 years older than Jesse, but he's a sweet little boy who had always accommodated Jesse. That is, until yesterday. Apparently.

"Norman didn't kick," Anie, our maid explained. As it turns out, Norman didn't touch our boy. He had merely refused to let Jesse play with one item in his stash and our son was miffed. I turned to Mae for confirmation and despite not being on the scene, she too felt that was probably what happened.

This troubles me.

Is our son framing Norman? Was Jesse so pissed off that he decided to seek revenge by framing an innocent kid? Where did he even learn to do that? He's barely 4!! Or could there be some truth to his story? I questioned him over and over and yet, he maintains his story.

I'm at a loss at how best to handle this. What if he was telling the truth? Shouldn't a father give his own son the benefit of the doubt? On the other hand, if I did believe him and he was lying, would this be the start of his life of crime?

*sigh* I don't know what to do. Maybe a little Chinese Water Torture will get some truth out of the boy.

Up Yours (Anwar's Song)

Hey assmonkeys, here's a song for today to go with your serving of Famous Anus (see previous entry). Sung to the tune of "I'm Yours" by Jason Mraz. Oh BTW, if you think Mraz sounds like "more ass", I'm sure it's just coincidence. So, anybody wants to make an MTV? :)

UP YOURS (Anwar's Song)

Well you done done me and you bet I felt it
I tried to be chill but you got me ar-rest-ed
You said I saw your crack
And that I've been at your back
Before your stools done run out
You'd been up to your worst-est
Nothing's woulda stop me but divine in-ter-vent-ion
And then came the guys in black - bala-cla-vas and guns

(And) now I'm back in jail, oh no, oh no
I have to say, "Up Yours"

I said open your mind and see like me
But you opened up your ass for the world to see
Did you sell your butt to get love love love love?
Did they get to you and offer you for-tune and fame
And did they make you fa-mi-ly?
Why you did it, only God knows knows knows

I won't he-si-tate no more, no more
I gotta say, "Up Yours"
(Don't) take this lit'rally, oh no, oh no
When I tell you, "Up Yours"

BRIDGE:
Do-do-do-do-do-you, would I do-do-do-do you
Do you think I'm horny
Scooch on over further dear
Someone will play with your rear.
So-de-bop-bop, Whoaa....

I've been doing too much for too long, to be back in the slammer
You bending over forward just to try to get me closer
To get me to pop your ass - that just makes me laugh
I guess what I be saying is I have no de-sire
To rape your sorry ass and set my own on fire
If that's my plan, I won't run for P-M

(And) now I'm back in jail, oh no, oh no
I have to say, "Up Yours"

I won't he-si-tate no more, no more
I gotta say, "Up Yours"
Don't take this lit'rally, oh no, oh no
When I tell you, "Up yours"