"Hey Babykins," I call to Maddie as I have done countless times before. She is, after all, the baby of the family, and at 3-years-old it's a cute little term of endearment.
"Don't call me Babykins!" she replies, "I'm not a baby anymore, Daddy."
Maddie can't wait to grow up. And you can see it in every little thing she does. She feeds herself, what little of it she chooses to eat. She wears her own shoes, although once in awhile, she slips up and gets them on the wrong sides. She wakes up at night on her own to take a pee, and she wipes her own poo.
In fact, she so self-reliant that she's all but ready to move out on her own and never look back. And that breaks my heart just a little. Yes, yes, Daddies are supposed to learn to let go, but she's three I just need a little more of my Babykins just a little longer.
"Can't you just be Daddy's little Babykins for a little while more?" I pleaded. This was not looking good for me. This is exactly how Daddy get wrapped around their daughters little fingers. But alas, it was futile.
"Daddy, I'm a big girl now," she said as she looked earnestly at me, as though assuring me that Daddy's little girl is all grown up and that everything was gonna be alright. I was almost resigned to the fact that Maddie was never gonna be my Babykins anymore, when I remembered I still had a trump card up my sleeve.
"Ok Sweet Pea," I responded, "but how about Daddy bathe you now?"
"I want Daddy to bathe me," she squealed. And right there in the bathroom, we're back to being Daddy and Babykins once again. :)
Monday, August 27, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Aunty Yit
There was a time I ate only eggs and not much else and no one could tell me different. I was eight at the time, and I pretty much ruled the world. That was, until I met her.
Aunty Yit was Dad's 2nd wife. She was a beautiful woman, but it was a nasty kind of beautiful. She had a death stare like the worst of them, except hers was accentuated by a pair of tattooed eyebrows - the sort that was perpetually in a state of fury. And, she didn't take shit from bratty little 8-year-olds.
"Eat!" she boomed. My blood curdled as I quickly raised my fork and stuffed a glob of lifeless, overcooked spinach into my mouth. It tastes like shit. Shit, seasoned with the salt from the sweat of my brow. I gave it a couple of feeble chews and gulped my misery down.
"Eat!" It was the very word that would shape my life, and unfortunately my adult body. (Which is overly large, in case you were wondering.) It was the word that heralded the beginning of my relationship with her.
Aunty Yit was toughs as nails, intelligent and funny all at the same time. And she loved children as much as she loved tormenting them. Although I painted her as the embodiment of the wicked stepmother in my childhood, I would learn over time, that she loved me as one of her own. And she loved Mae, Jesse and Maddie too.
Aunty Yit passed away on 6th July 2012. She had lived 65 years but the last six of those she spent battling cancer. She spent the last few months putting her affairs in order and gave us explicit instructions that her funeral arrangement was to be simple, cheerful, and full of eating. Aunty Yit was cremated and laid to rest in the ocean. And immediately after, we ate.
"Eat!" she said, and we did. And with that, Aunty Yit left my life as she came into it.
Footnote: A day after the funeral, we tried explaining to Maddie what had happened to her Grandma. "Do you know where Grandma is?" we asked. "Grandma is sleeping in the oven," she said. Hahaha. If Aunty Yit had lived to hear that, she would have enjoyed it immensely.
Aunty Yit was Dad's 2nd wife. She was a beautiful woman, but it was a nasty kind of beautiful. She had a death stare like the worst of them, except hers was accentuated by a pair of tattooed eyebrows - the sort that was perpetually in a state of fury. And, she didn't take shit from bratty little 8-year-olds.
"Eat!" she boomed. My blood curdled as I quickly raised my fork and stuffed a glob of lifeless, overcooked spinach into my mouth. It tastes like shit. Shit, seasoned with the salt from the sweat of my brow. I gave it a couple of feeble chews and gulped my misery down.
"Eat!" It was the very word that would shape my life, and unfortunately my adult body. (Which is overly large, in case you were wondering.) It was the word that heralded the beginning of my relationship with her.
Aunty Yit was toughs as nails, intelligent and funny all at the same time. And she loved children as much as she loved tormenting them. Although I painted her as the embodiment of the wicked stepmother in my childhood, I would learn over time, that she loved me as one of her own. And she loved Mae, Jesse and Maddie too.
Aunty Yit passed away on 6th July 2012. She had lived 65 years but the last six of those she spent battling cancer. She spent the last few months putting her affairs in order and gave us explicit instructions that her funeral arrangement was to be simple, cheerful, and full of eating. Aunty Yit was cremated and laid to rest in the ocean. And immediately after, we ate.
"Eat!" she said, and we did. And with that, Aunty Yit left my life as she came into it.
Footnote: A day after the funeral, we tried explaining to Maddie what had happened to her Grandma. "Do you know where Grandma is?" we asked. "Grandma is sleeping in the oven," she said. Hahaha. If Aunty Yit had lived to hear that, she would have enjoyed it immensely.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Under Where?
"Daddy," my son suddenly said in the elevator as we were heading out to school, a solemn look washed over his usually cheerful disposition. He continued, "yesterday was reaaalllly bad."
Jesse is 8 which, in my book, is still just a little kid. But sometimes he'd speak like an old soul, with all the right emphasis in just the right words, and the right look to match, creating all the right nuances in all the right places. Like this conversation we were having.
I was concerned, but I feigned a little callousness to diffuse the tension in the air.
"Why, what happened?" I casually asked.
"Yesterday, when Mommy took out my clothes for school," he explained intently, "she gave me Girl-Girl's panties." At that point, he started chuckling, "I didn't know until I got to school."
I laughed my ass off. How he managed to squeeze into his little sister's undies defies the laws of Physics. Maddie is just 3. Heheh.
And no, you're not allowed to embarrass him about it when you see him. That's his Daddy's job. :P
Jesse is 8 which, in my book, is still just a little kid. But sometimes he'd speak like an old soul, with all the right emphasis in just the right words, and the right look to match, creating all the right nuances in all the right places. Like this conversation we were having.
I was concerned, but I feigned a little callousness to diffuse the tension in the air.
"Why, what happened?" I casually asked.
"Yesterday, when Mommy took out my clothes for school," he explained intently, "she gave me Girl-Girl's panties." At that point, he started chuckling, "I didn't know until I got to school."
I laughed my ass off. How he managed to squeeze into his little sister's undies defies the laws of Physics. Maddie is just 3. Heheh.
And no, you're not allowed to embarrass him about it when you see him. That's his Daddy's job. :P
Monday, July 30, 2012
Back to Blogging
Yesterday, just by chance, I revisited a couple of entries in this blog. I started off looking back at what I wrote about Grandma, and one thing led to another and soon I was reading post upon post of what I wrote back in 2004.
I miss blogging. Not just the act of putting down my thoughts for all to see, but also documenting down the events of my life, details of which I'd forget without LoopyMeals. (Especially since I'm not getting any younger)
It's been an awfully eventful month. Heck, it's been an eventful couple of years and I have nothing to remember them by other than my age-ravaged memory. Hopefully I'll be able to do something about that. I meant the archiving.
The memory thing is probably a lost cause now.
I miss blogging. Not just the act of putting down my thoughts for all to see, but also documenting down the events of my life, details of which I'd forget without LoopyMeals. (Especially since I'm not getting any younger)
It's been an awfully eventful month. Heck, it's been an eventful couple of years and I have nothing to remember them by other than my age-ravaged memory. Hopefully I'll be able to do something about that. I meant the archiving.
The memory thing is probably a lost cause now.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
The Loss of an iCon
First Apple I ever used was the LCIII way back in 1993. Thereafter, there was a period shortly after when I used legit (and crappy) Apple clones. Of course, those weren't Steve Job's fault since he was absent from the company at the time.
Anyway, 18 years on and having gone through iMacs, iBooks, MacBooks, PowerMacs, an iPhone and an iPad, you kinda feel "invested" into the life and times of Steve Jobs.
So yeah, today Steve Jobs passes on. Looking at that pic from apple.com gives me a weird and unnatural feeling of, quite possibly irrational, loss for someone I didn't even know personally. But if you use a lot of Apple products, you might know what that feels like.
Goodbye Steve.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Maddie Saves the Day
It was a day like any other. Mom had had an idyllic morning but somewhere in the deep recesses of her gut, was a feeling that all was not quite right. She brushed it aside as gas (hehe!) and went on about her chores.
It was almost lunch and on this day, Mom decided she would fry a fish. Despite the main course being a dead fish, lunch was coming along swimmingly. Then, Mom decided to add in a garnish of Chinese parley from the fridge and so she reached out to open the kitchen door when she realised it was locked.
We do our frying in a wet kitchen just a door outside the rest of the apartment. Whenever Mom cooked, she'd close the door to prevent smoke fumes from entering our home. This time, however, she had accidentally locked herself in the wet kitchen.
"Maddie," Mom called out to her 2-year-old granddaughter, "open the door for Mah-Mah!"
Maddie was in the living room watching TV, but our obedient little girl dropped everything and went to Mah-Mah's rescue. But alas, her tiny little hands still hadn't gotten the hang of doorknobs. The door remained shut and poor little Maddie started crying in futility.
That's when the gravity of Mom's predicament hit her. She was locked in the wet kitchen with no key, no phone and no way of getting out. Maddie, on the other hand, was in the living room with everything but no means of using them.
At 12:30pm, I received a call from my Mother-In-Law. She had picked up Jesse from school that day and had sent him home only to be greeted by Mom's situation. I scrambled to leave, darting out of the office. I was almost at my car when the phone rang again.
"Everything's okay now," MIL said in a sigh of relief, "everything's okay."
Mom has a habit of leaving the front door open, to let in fresh air. I used to heckle her for it, citing that there's no such thing as fresh air in the Klang Valley. Thankfully, this time around, she chose to ignore my words. On this day, she also chose to leave her house keys on the low cabinet within Maddie's reach.
"Maddie," Mom called out. By this time, Maddie had regained her composure and had resume watching TV as if nothing had happened. "Maddie, take Mah-Mah's key and give it to Koko!"
And outside, Maddie's Koko, Jesse was calling out in unison.
My clever little girl shuffled over to the cabinet, reached out for Mah-Mah's keys and retrieved it. Mom, looking through the window from the wet kitchen cheered with joy! Outside, MIL and Jesse rejoiced.
As Maddie made her way to the front door, suddenly her favourite song came on TV. And although Mah-Mah's instructions were explicit, there were more important things in life for our little girl. Like a good song on TV. And so, she paused for a moment to watch it before carrying on with her task. (*sigh* I only wished I were there to witness this precious moment.)
And so, Maddie got the keys safely to MIL and Jesse who let themselves in and subsequently let Mom out of the kitchen.
Strange thing though; according to MIL, the door was never locked. And try as I might, I just can't see how Mom locked herself in. Perhaps there's something unseen at work here. WooOoOOoo...
It was almost lunch and on this day, Mom decided she would fry a fish. Despite the main course being a dead fish, lunch was coming along swimmingly. Then, Mom decided to add in a garnish of Chinese parley from the fridge and so she reached out to open the kitchen door when she realised it was locked.
We do our frying in a wet kitchen just a door outside the rest of the apartment. Whenever Mom cooked, she'd close the door to prevent smoke fumes from entering our home. This time, however, she had accidentally locked herself in the wet kitchen.
"Maddie," Mom called out to her 2-year-old granddaughter, "open the door for Mah-Mah!"
Maddie was in the living room watching TV, but our obedient little girl dropped everything and went to Mah-Mah's rescue. But alas, her tiny little hands still hadn't gotten the hang of doorknobs. The door remained shut and poor little Maddie started crying in futility.
That's when the gravity of Mom's predicament hit her. She was locked in the wet kitchen with no key, no phone and no way of getting out. Maddie, on the other hand, was in the living room with everything but no means of using them.
At 12:30pm, I received a call from my Mother-In-Law. She had picked up Jesse from school that day and had sent him home only to be greeted by Mom's situation. I scrambled to leave, darting out of the office. I was almost at my car when the phone rang again.
"Everything's okay now," MIL said in a sigh of relief, "everything's okay."
Mom has a habit of leaving the front door open, to let in fresh air. I used to heckle her for it, citing that there's no such thing as fresh air in the Klang Valley. Thankfully, this time around, she chose to ignore my words. On this day, she also chose to leave her house keys on the low cabinet within Maddie's reach.
"Maddie," Mom called out. By this time, Maddie had regained her composure and had resume watching TV as if nothing had happened. "Maddie, take Mah-Mah's key and give it to Koko!"
And outside, Maddie's Koko, Jesse was calling out in unison.
My clever little girl shuffled over to the cabinet, reached out for Mah-Mah's keys and retrieved it. Mom, looking through the window from the wet kitchen cheered with joy! Outside, MIL and Jesse rejoiced.
As Maddie made her way to the front door, suddenly her favourite song came on TV. And although Mah-Mah's instructions were explicit, there were more important things in life for our little girl. Like a good song on TV. And so, she paused for a moment to watch it before carrying on with her task. (*sigh* I only wished I were there to witness this precious moment.)
And so, Maddie got the keys safely to MIL and Jesse who let themselves in and subsequently let Mom out of the kitchen.
Strange thing though; according to MIL, the door was never locked. And try as I might, I just can't see how Mom locked herself in. Perhaps there's something unseen at work here. WooOoOOoo...
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Singing for Love
Yeah. This is me blogging again. :) And it's an old story too, something I meant to note down for posterity but then life got in the way. *sigh*
Anyway, it was Father's Day awhile back. And like all Sunday mornings, the kids get up first. Maddie was pottering around the room entertaining herself like she always does on the weekends.
I climbed out of bed and propped myself on the floor right in front of her.
"Give Daddy a kiss, Sweetpea," I said as lifted her chin a little to gaze into her eyes.
"Doman!" she snaps in her little baby-version of "don't want" and quickly turns to leave.
"Aww c'mon Baby, just a teeny-weeny little kiss, ok?" I tried again.
"Doman," she asserts. Maddie don't do touches and hugs and kisses.
At that point I felt a little vulnerable, I gotta admit. It was Father's Day and my little girl refused to acknowledge my place in her world. It kinda hurt a little bit. My little girl had brought her Daddy down to his knees. *sniff*
"But it's Daddy's Day, today," I pleaded.
But her tiny heart of stone knew only one answer. "Doman".
Then I has a brainwave. I started singing Barney. "I love you, you love me, we are happy family..." When I got to the part, "with a great big hug and a kiss from me to you," I emphasised it more than a little, and quite automatically, Maddie stepped up to me, hugged me and kissed me square on the lips.
And just like that, it was a nice day once again.
Anyway, it was Father's Day awhile back. And like all Sunday mornings, the kids get up first. Maddie was pottering around the room entertaining herself like she always does on the weekends.
I climbed out of bed and propped myself on the floor right in front of her.
"Give Daddy a kiss, Sweetpea," I said as lifted her chin a little to gaze into her eyes.
"Doman!" she snaps in her little baby-version of "don't want" and quickly turns to leave.
"Aww c'mon Baby, just a teeny-weeny little kiss, ok?" I tried again.
"Doman," she asserts. Maddie don't do touches and hugs and kisses.
At that point I felt a little vulnerable, I gotta admit. It was Father's Day and my little girl refused to acknowledge my place in her world. It kinda hurt a little bit. My little girl had brought her Daddy down to his knees. *sniff*
"But it's Daddy's Day, today," I pleaded.
But her tiny heart of stone knew only one answer. "Doman".
Then I has a brainwave. I started singing Barney. "I love you, you love me, we are happy family..." When I got to the part, "with a great big hug and a kiss from me to you," I emphasised it more than a little, and quite automatically, Maddie stepped up to me, hugged me and kissed me square on the lips.
And just like that, it was a nice day once again.
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