Tuesday, August 28, 2007

3 Years Old!

Over the weekend, we celebrated Jesse's birthday.

On Saturday, we brought we threw him a kiddie's party at KidZone in Hartamas Shopping Centre. It was a small affair with with his little cousins, uncles and aunties, and grandparents.

On Sunday, the actual day that he was born, Mae and I bought him two little cupcakes, stuck in a candle, sang him the birthday song and the little boy happily blew the candles out. He had a whale of a time basking in the attention. He enjoyed it so much he made us sing six more times, just so he could blow the candles out over and over again. Hahha. It could have gone all night, but we quickly ate up the cakes so there was nowhere to stick a candle in. Yes, we're bad parents.

On Monday, we brought a cake to his kindergarten to celebrate with his little classmates. All the kids had had their birthdays in class and the boy had been eagerly looking forward to his turn. Didn't help that he was the youngest there, so he celebrated everyone else's birthday before he got to do his. Mae stayed up all night on Sunday to pack little party packs for the kids, while I woke early to fry nuggets and sausages for the little party.

Jesse's school had a strict policy on birthdays. Parents could only go during the kid's breaktime, which was midway during class. Despite the fact that we had prepped him for the day, I supposed he didn't quite expect us to turn up in the middle of class. And for that moment he was the happiest little kid in school. Then we had to leave, and he wasn't quite prepared to see us go. And the happiest kid alive turned into the saddest kid alive. Next year, we'll just leave the cake, sausages, nuggets and party packs and watch from a distance. *sigh*

Throwing a party is astronomical in terms of labour and cost, and of course, emotions. Perhaps next year we'll pluck up enough courage to invite our friends and his (who must be thinking: "How come we never get invited to Jesse's birthday") to our home.

I shudder at the thought. Ugh.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Old Man';s Ass

I'm not a terribly brand-conscious person when it comes to fashion and apparel. For that matter, as many who know me will testify, I'm not terribly fashion-conscious too. But, that's another story for another day.

Today, we discuss jeans.

Now, for as long as I have lived, Levi's are the preferred choice for jeans - or at least that's the propaganda I have been exposed to. Levi's are better. Levi's are well made. Levi's last longer. Levi's makes your ass look better, even for fat guys like me. It comes to a point where you don't even fight it anymore.

Until last weekend. Last weekend I decided to go against the grain. Let the lemmings wear their Levi's, I thought to myself. Me, I was gonna revolutionise my wardrobe. And so I strutted to Malaysia's favourite surplus store, F.O.S., grabbed a pair of jeans off the rack and headed for the fitting room.

I put on the new RM 39.90 jeans and whaddya know, I looked mighty fine (by my own limited standards, of course). I turned around to check out the back in the mirror when my whole world goes to hell.

There in the mirror staring back at me, was my ass, thirty years into the future. To get an idea what that looks like, go check out some 60-year old guy's butt and you'll know. Y'know the ones whose cheeks sag like a bulldog's.

Who the hell makes jeans like that?

I was so traumatised that all the way home, I has to seek constant validation from Mae on the age of my ass. "No, you don't have an old man's ass". "Are you sure?" "Yessssss-lah!"

Man. I'm never tucking in my shirt ever again.

Monday, August 20, 2007


While we were in Pangkor Island, I decided to take Jesse for a splash in the hotel's wading pool. Since it had been awhile since he's stepped into a pool, I figured it would be a nice experience for him. And it was. That is, until he fell face-first into the water.

The water was up to his belly-button and the boy was feeling fine. In fact, he was so happy in this refreshing element that he decided to try and jump about in it. Somewhere between bouncing around and splashing water, he lost his balance and fell in.

Fortunately for him, I never left his side (Propoganda: Boy, if you're reading this some time in the future; no, Daddy never left your side!) and so I reached in quickly to pull him out. He was a mess, of course. Coughing out water, wailing bloody murder and crying his eyeballs out.

At that point, I was spiraling into a guilt-trip of overprotectiveness, fearing that I had scarred my boy for life. And Jesse wasn't helping. He was clinging on to me like that face-hugging creature from Alien, clutching for dear life.

Then we both calmed down, father and son regaining our collective composure.

"You wanna go back into the water?" I asked the sobbing boy, despite my own reservations. Then, as he coughed up the remaining water in his lungs, he looked up at me with those huge puppy dog eyes, now red from the crying and the chlorine-treated pool water and answered confidently, "Yes."

The boy went back into the water and started jumping again, like a monkey in hot soup as if nothing had happened.

And just like that, our ordeal was over. He had conquered his fear, and I mine.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

War & Peacenik

"That Mennis is a real rascal," Mae complained to me about Jesse's classmate. Apparently the kid pulled Jesse chair from under him just as our boy was about to sit down. "And right in front of me, too!"

"Why, that little shit," I replied, as images of unnatural child abuse crept into my head. Mae interjected, her voice vibrating with grave concern, "That's not the worst of it."

Crap. My kid was getting heckled by his classmate and there was more?

"Teacher Tze Nie is concerned as well," Mae told me earnestly. Apparently, his classmates tend to pick on him a little. They'd grab the toys he was paying with, or they'd pinch the goodies off of his lunchbox.

"He doesn't fight back," Tze Nie had told Mae, "or even protest or complain."

It hit me, then. My kid was a damn hippy-flower-child-peacenik. Sure, it's a good trait to be all peace-loving and stuff, but can a child survive like that?

"Maybe we ought to teach him how to kick some ass," Mae suggested. "Just for self defense," she quickly added.

But I didn't feel comfortable about raising my kid to be violent. Sure, I can't stand the fact that he doesn't stand up for himself, but on the other hand, I like my boy and his innocent lovey-dovey, turn-the-other-cheek ways. But what is a parent to do? Introduce him to the Way of the Dragon and rob him of his innocence forever? Or let him deal with it in his own time? Or perhaps something else, altogether?

"I'm gonna go step on Mennis' foot, maybe break his big toe of something," I told Mae.

"Don't be crazy," Mae said.

"The teachers might see you." Heh.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Happy Days are Hair Again!

Sunday was a milestones of sorts. It's Jesse's first professional haircut after almost a year, the second in his entire lifetime. For some reason, the boy is adversed to having his hair cut. The last time I attempted to cut his hair, I almost slit my own wrists out of frustration. Heh.

Anyway, the kid turns three in a few weeks and I figured, surely by now he'd have outgrown his phobia of haircuts. So, Mae and I, along with the boy and our maid, Anie headed down to the local Mamak Barber. Despite my own reservations about Mamak Barbers, I decided that both father and son should conquer our fears. And so there we were.

Go on, watch the video. :)

It turned out pretty well - the ordeal and hopefully, the haircut. Makes him look a little uncle-ish though. But the boy thinks he looks like Peter Parker now. Heh.

Oh well.

Thursday, August 9, 2007

Sun of a Beach

beach bums

For our 5th Anniversary (belated) celebrations, Mae and I decided we'd like a little sun, sand and surf. It could have been a lovely, romantic getaway but we decided it wasn't gonna be much fun without Jesse, so we brought him along.

He loved it. Just look at that little monkey face. Heh.

Plenty of stories. And plenty of back posts I owe to this blog. I'll get around to it when I get around to clearing up some work that's been piling up. Just to whet your appetite, here's a little preview of things to come:
  • Jesse learns to play ball from Little Skywalker.
  • Jesse gets picked on at school and it's Daddy to the revenge rescue.
  • Annie's song of tragedy and loss
  • Daddy's underhanded propaganda
  • And more!
Tune in same time next... erm... time. Heheh. I'll get around to it, I'm sure.