YES. It’s time for a giveaway!

Tuna has decided that you’re such a lovely, loyal bunch that she wants to say thank you by running her very first giveaway through her computer literate proxy, yours truly. Everyone is eligible, not just those of you in Singapore! The details on how to enter are at the bottom of this post.

245AAC11-50BB-4ABA-8EDE-6C2DBCF0DD31

Continue reading

Advertisements

Social Graces for Babies, Toddlers and Parents: The Dos and Don’ts of Play Dates in Singapore

Hi readers! I wrote this article for the lovely team at Sassy Mama Singapore on play date “etiquette”. Thanks for sharing the love, you sassy ladies!

When that precious little bundle of joy arrives into your life, the social building block known as “The Play Date” will become a regular feature on your agenda, mama. These little meet-and-greets of tiny humans and their respective caregivers tend to start happening once the shell-shock of your tiny human’s birth has worn off, and the first few weeks of what I like to call The Newborn Blur have…well…not passed, but have become an acceptable part of your outlook on the world.

mom plays with baby

Your first play date will be many things: a little weird, a little new, a little “What exactly are we going to do?”, and more often than not, a little bit thrilling as you realise that this is one of the key ways you are going to survive this thing called parenthood.

In order to adequately equip you for your very first play date, or if, perhaps, you’re like me and are a play date veteran but need the occasional refresher as to what is and is not okay, I’ve put together a handy little guide of dos and don’ts to keep you and your kid from being the ones that don’t get invited the second time around (just kidding, people are usually quite forgiving; but really though, read carefully). Continue reading

Is being a stay-at-home-mom enough?

I’ve traded in my black business suits for shorts and maxi dresses.

My shiny patent high heels for flip flops and mama Crocs.

My chic over-the-shoulder handbag for a very practical, industrially-designed khaki backpack.

My sleek updo for whatever hair arrangement is quickest to achieve, all the while accompanied by a halo of frizz framing my usually flustered face.

I’ve traded in 10.30am cappuccino breaks with intellectual colleagues for a cracker and watermelon food fight with an energetic and gleefully squealing toddler.

My 20-minute, quick-fix, power lunches for lengthy negotiations with a curly-haired little girl as to which non-carbohydrate items on her plate she will begrudgingly consume.

My after-work conversations with my husband about current events and challenges I’m facing in the office for a rambling update as to how long the baby napped that day, the contents of her diapers, how tired I am, how sore my back is and seeking his take on whether oven pizzas would be okay for dinner.

My billable-hour targets for hopes as to how many hours straight my child will sleep through the night.

My evolution into a stay-at-home-mom was not an evolution at all. It was an abrupt shift from one life to another. There was no lead-in, no transition; it was like suddenly a part of me that I had known so well, for so long, had disappeared. Instead, here I was, cradling a newborn in my arms on a Tuesday morning, wondering where on earth I was supposed to start. Continue reading

Dear Haze, you are straight up irritating.

Dear Haze,

It’s time for us to have a heart-to-heart. I have a few things to literally get off my chest, not limited to your nasty little PM2.5 particles that I can feel invading my respiratory system.

You know, when I first heard about you in June 2013, I wasn’t too fazed, Haze. You were no biggie. I was on a business trip in gorgeous Auckland, New Zealand, breathing in crisp, cool, fresh air. I was newly pregnant, but didn’t know it yet. My husband would tell me over the phone how bad it was and while I tried to sympathise, I thought everything was getting just a little too OTT. Come on guys. It’s a little pollution. We’ll get through it.

Clearly, I underestimated just how bad you really are.

Haze, you are straight up irritating. In every sense of the word.

I do not appreciate the 2-month-long nasal tap you have bestowed upon my 19-month-old. We were getting to a good place sleep-wise, and you’re really messing things up for us. I miss wearing clothes sans the snot stains. The cost of tissues is going to bankrupt us.

I am not a fan of the fact that you have kept us indoors for so long. Cabin fever has been redefined. Right now, The Bunny Hop song is on for the twenty-seventh time this morning. I do not want to hop like a bunny, jump like a joey or leap like a froggie, any. more. Continue reading

Sometimes, Mama needs to cry too.

You start off thinking you’re going to be the perfect parent.

You’ll never lose your patience. You’ll never raise your voice. You’ll never let your child see that – yes – they’ve gotten to you and that you’re essentially about to lose it.

I certainly started off that way.

I had grand visions of myself as the ever-calm, always-smiling and never-scary mama who would patiently and lovingly deal with everything my child threw my way. I mean, how hard can it be? They’re children, for heaven’s sake. All you have to do is make them feel “heard” and explain the rationale behind all of your parenting tactics, and they will obligingly and dutifully be the perfect child.

And then there comes the first time your 3-week-old just. won’t. sleep. Continue reading

Taking life at a toddler’s pace

I’ve always been a pro-efficiency kinda gal.

The type that walks quickly even when there’s no rush to get anywhere. My darling husband A always makes fun of the fact that I’m “racing” him whenever we’re out for a walk, while I feel like I’m merely sauntering at a leisurely pace.  I like ordering my Starbucks coffee by specifying every possible variable I would like in order to minimise the number of questions the barista has to ask me – I even stipulate whether or not I require a receipt. I will group all of my grocery items according to category on the conveyor belt so that the checkout operator can get them packed properly quick fast. So essentially, it would seem apparent that I also like imposing my efficiency on others.

Being accompanied by a toddler for approximately 97% of your errands does not make for an efficient use of time. This staggering truth horrified me upon becoming a new mother. Continue reading

Co-sleep? More like no-sleep. 

You never really fully appreciate the extent of your toddler’s in-sleep acrobatics until you get the joy of sharing a bed with them.

Don’t get me wrong – I have absolutely nothing against co-sleeping. I’ve just come to terms with the fact that for all my pro-breastfeeding, pro-babywearing tendencies, I simply can’t do it. I’ve tried. And speaking truthfully, my daughter coerces me into it from time to time because she has very cleverly figured out that I value a {below-par} night’s sleep above the desire to {be awake at 4am and} teach her to consistently sleep in her own bed.

Maybe I just don’t like intermittently getting kicked in the face as much as the next guy. Sure, it keeps you on your toes and sharpens your ”unagi” (à la Ross from that episode of Friends), but getting a soft little squishy foot with quite a lot of force behind it, in your eye more than once a night, doesn’t allow for the most restful sleep. Continue reading