My first days as a SAHM to two under three

Mum left last night. It was a new day and thank goodness the toddler had slept through the night as it was the first time ever someone wasn’t there to stop her from coming into our room.

At half past seven she comes in with a sheepish grin and I pass the baby to my husband to prepare to cuddle her. Something wasn’t right. She smelled of poo! She hadn’t had an accident for over a month! But I guess whilst she’s in deep sleep it doesn’t count. Unfortunately she’s stuck her fingers in the diaper since the accident too. On that first morning I was sent off on a wild goose chase after her trail of things she’s touched, after I had stuck her in the shower to hose her down.

Sheets changed on both her bed and ours, I settled down to read with and to feed my baby, and I still find poo on her. On her ear where she’d scratched it. I also find some later on in the day. To top it all off, sometime that morning, when the baby was crying I saw to my horror the toddler stuck her index finger into her mouth to pacify her! I hope I had gotten out all the traces of faeces from that finger.

Crappy morning aside, I tried unsuccessfully to make pizza that day as Fridays were usually pizza night. First I forgot the yeast in the dough so it was added as an after thought. Then I forgot to get the salami and pepperoni so unless I was making margheritas for dinner, it just wouldn’t cut it. We ended up with a Tuscan sausage soup for dinner.

The toddler wouldn’t nap, which meant that I couldn’t get too much rest myself. But she did surprise me with loads of independent play ( amazing what games some silicone cupcake mounds can inspire in a toddler’s mind) so that I managed to get a few Black Friday deals and make our meals. For our trip out for the day, I tried to do our weekly shop with the toddler and bub in tow. I thought it may be challenging but Ms 2 yr 8 mths proved to be the best little helper. She managed to pull the trolley around the shop, piling it with groceries, then she unloaded it onto the conveyor belt and subsequently loaded them into the pram’s shopping basket after they’d been scanned through and paid for. Amazing effort!

Just as I am struggling through the day with sleep deprivation and the onset of a cold, the toddler brings me a cup of pretend tea which really warms the cockles of my heart.






That evening I looked forward to crawling into bed at nine pm when the toddler’s gone to bed. Mr Hea was tasked with the bedtime feed for the baby. What could possibly go wrong?

He doesn’t screw the bottle on properly and my expressed milk all comes spilling out as soon as he’s put it in. He then pulls out formulae and proceeds to feed her on our bed whilst catching up with me on the day. Before I know it, our baby is throwing up on the new sheets because she has taken the formula too quickly and it is too heavy for her. Mr HEA hasn’t bothered to use the hand towel I had suggested he use as a bib so I am dragged out of bed to change the baby and the sheets again. As the husband tries to hurry me back to bed, grabbing the bub, he bobs her head on the cupboard and she doesn’t like it. Just in case this doesn’t round up the brilliant day, the onesie I’ve grabbed off the pile for my baby announces,”My Mummy thinks she’s in charge. That's cute.”

I think I’ve been owned.

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39 weeks in 3 weeks out

She is everything my firstborn wasn’t. She had a far less traumatic introduction to this world and mentally we were so much more prepared and organised to welcome her than we were with our first. Funny how your brain retains muscle memory on how to care for a newborn despite this one being far more wriggly than our first. Things like breastfeeding and how to change their diaper just all come back to you as you wizz through it with the efficiency and competence that only a second time parent can have.

We look at the newborn world that surrounds us now and it’s fun for us to play ‘spot the first time parents’ because they are so scared and bewildered. Much like we were then. She doesn’t get picked up until she makes urgent cries, she is coddled much less, and only changed if she doesn’t pass the smell test. Yet she is content. Mummy doesn’t even keep track of her feeding and sleeping patterns like she did rigidly with S. I had to ask my mother when was the last time I bathed/ top and tailed L. Newborns just seem so much cleaner than toddlers who need to be washed so many times a day and bathed daily because they are just big germ bags.

Yes compared to her sister she is the sweet one now because there is no sass, only coos. She doesn’t try to manipulate us for treats or to delay bed time. We don’t have to treat her like a ticking tantrum mine field and she certainly seems assertive enough when poked at or roughly manhandled by her older sibling. With our firstborn we worried that we would kill her. With the second, we worry the toddler will.

What an incredible journey! Tiring and painful at the time but so hazy now as comfortably we slip into being a family of four.

From the three hours of active labour where I had to mentally psych myself into pushing her out on no pain relief all the while praying for the strength to see it all through, to the late night uterine cramps where I swore I was better off being in labour, through to the night I cried big tears because my milk came in and I was going beserk with the hormones. I thought of throwing in the towel. The magnitude of the toil ahead of us seemed all too much to bear. As I cuddle my slowly unfurling bundle of joy today those events fade away into distant memory.

Slight confession: the first two weeks, I missed my big girl. I had to watch her struggle to be independent of me. It hurt when she got used to having Daddy do things for her that used to be my domain. I missed being her ‘best friend’ as she called us. I can see that she missed me too as she asked me daily worriedly if I was feeling better. I missed my firstborn so much I didn’t really bond with my second. My toddler had a personality and I could communicate with her but the baby was just a non-verbal blob. I sat in silence with her in the still of the night although naggingly my memory tells me I used to sing lullabys and tell S my hopes and dreams for her during the newborn nights.

The maternal instinct towards L came very very late and I wondered about that adage that supposes your heart grows to accommodate the love you have for both. I watched like an outsider as my husband eagerly lavished affection on the baby and noted without passion how lovingly he sang and played with her during her brief waking moments in the day. I recoiled every time he would say ‘I think she needs a feed’. Perhaps it was the uterine cramps or the fact that I was tired and so immobilised by becoming a newborn’s mother again. I was sure relieved to find my own interest in my second child develop in the third week. Perhaps it made me feel more human.

We plod on. Soon my mother will excuse herself from our lives as she returns to her own. I have enjoyed the extra hands she's lent us the past so many weeks. I remember the helplessness I felt when she left the last time she was here to help with my firstborn. I am sure to feel it again especially when witching hour descends upon us and my toddler dissolves into a hot boiling mess at the same time. Still other people manage and the long evenings get drowned somehow in pools of hazy memories. Those are the ones who go back to wishing for another newborn to cuddle and to keep by their side little for just that while longer. I hope not for me. I must settle into nuzzling L more each long night and enjoying the tears that they will let me soothe and wipe away now, before they grow up and tell me in their big girl bravery," I want to do this myself."


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Why my husband will make a happier mother than me

I have been thinking about this issue for a long while. It all began two years ago when I was off for a year on maternity leave and stressed to the max over the health and wellbeing of my little one therefore running myself to the ground not sleeping whilst keeping wholesome home cooked meals on the table regularly, a spotless house and conquering the laundry. All this while I made sure I was doing enough to stimulate my child's development with sensory, swimming and music classes and play dates. Just all standard mother stuff really. I don't see any other mum's that don't do the same whilst keeping themselves and their family together.

But from my husband's perspective (and this led to many fights in those sleep deprived months) he would do things much differently and that it was my choice to do things 'the hard way' and therefore I can only blame myself if I was stressed and unfulfilled at the end of the year. Mind you, he was the one that got our daughter to start crawling and take her first steps so I don't think it is that he doesn't care about our child's development at all. Rather he weighs the marginal benefit against the physical toll it takes to complete similar tasks that I perform and deem them missable. He would rather prioritise his wellbeing and his happiness after knowing that our child’s important needs are met. I elaborate further.

On sleep:
I would use the time my baby sleeps to try to clean the house and prep meals so that we can still have our regular pre-baby mealtimes and nice clean flat. I would also not let our child cry it out so would always go to her side when she wailed but if we agreed it was his turn, he would turn on his side and let her cry till I got up to tend to her instead. During afternoon naps, he would take a nap too whilst she slept. I think I’d like to try that with my next child. If he came home to a dirty flat and I requested takeout for dinner because I took a nap instead that day, I wonder what he would think, but actually, maybe he doesn’t think anything. Nobody should as long as our family’s wellbeing is put first.

On homecooked meals:
The other day we were at a one year old’s birthday party at the family home where they had two kids under the age of four and everything at the party was home cooked and handmade. The level of effort was unbelievable. I surmised that they achieved that because the husband is able to cook delicious party presentable food. I came home late from work two days later and my husband requested I picked up pizza on the way home because he didn’t even want to eat the leftovers I had planned to make up for our dinner that night. I wanted to fume over it and be upset over the unnecessary expenditure when I could still pull together a quick substantial home cooked meal, and really I thought if Mr.HEA could cook, he could very easily stir fry and reheat the rice and leftovers and dinner would be ready as I stepped through the door as he was already at home. This however, would not be the man I chose to be my husband and my life would probably have to pay with him having another weakness if the lack of cooking skills and his preference for fast food wasn’t his.

On a clean house:
When we moved into our flat and it was brand new two years ago I endeavoured to keep it all as brand new and shiny as I could. I wiped down all the surfaces thinking how sick my child could get if she ate something off the floor that she found. The bathroom was void of mould and scum and I wiped down every night. I cleaned the oven regularly. I mopped the floor weekly. Mr.HEA will just stick to his standard chores, make sure our garbage isn’t smelly and toys aren’t posing threats to our safety around the clearways of our home, he is happy to take a seat and relax himself in the evenings and weekends. As soon as I got pregnant and became increasingly tired as well as more averse to bleach and oven cleaning chemicals, I found myself relaxing the standards a bit. I think the last time I mopped was a month ago. I don’t even iron Mr.HEA’s shirts anymore, I relinquished that role half a year ago. I use the oven every week but I only clean it when I feel like it now. The bathroom has scum, but no mould yet, I clean it once a week now. Mr HEA helps me fold laundry and I don’t refold it so that it sits neatly in our wardrobes. I just shove it in when I put it away and close the doors shut hoping that they don’t fall out the next time I open the doors again. And actually, with the amount of time I spend now playing with my daughter and catching up on sleep or just resting instead of whirling around the flat cleaning, our family has not fallen ill for a very long time despite the temperamental weather.

So if we as a family lived according to his rules and standards instead of mine, we’d not be falling apart or falling sick. We wouldn’t be any less perfect and we wouldn’t be unhappy if I didn’t do any of the above in the ‘right’ way. I think actually we’d be the happiest we’d ever been. Happy Mummy, Happy family. So in the pursuit of happiness, I shall relax and try to be more like my husband in the next year.

Growing up too fast.

Whilst listening to Disney songs, "this is the bear song!" I say excitedly having recognised the tune. "Bare necessities mummy." She corrects me.

Somewhere on instagram I read that these years are the longest shortest time and I totally agree. Amidst dealing with teething fevers and her obsession with flicking my earlobes for comfort inducing sleepless nights, twenty minute potty training sessions spent in the toilet always happening mid dinner time and the constant whining for chocolate treats as well as thwarting her cheeky sass I can't help admiring the little person we have brought into the world. Not even six months ago she only begun saying two to three words together and now she is using sentences, plurals, pronouns as well as contradicting us with opposites. The most fulfilling thing is to see her purposefully trying to use more structured mandarin sentences with me as I have always worried about whether she'd be able to pick the language up if she was only introduced to it via myself.

In the throes of growing a human being inside me and raising one outside, I find myself slightly apprehensive of our future. I admit that I was hesitant finding out I will have another girl. It is a blessing I thought I didn't deserve as people tell me how close the sisters will be and how caring girls are to their parents compared to boys. But at the same time I feared the raging emotions and hormones, I worry about the predators of our sick world and most of all I worry about whether I'd be able to be the best example of a woman to them for them to aspire to. I know now I have to be stronger, better and more focused with my life as my girls will need me to be. The perfectionist in me needs to be balanced with being able to have fun. The rules I set need to be reasonable and considered, adaptable to our modern world whilst keeping to religious and traditional values. I just want my girls to be God-fearing, decent human beings with a sense of responsibility and caring individuals but never losing sight of the goodness that can be found in this world and enjoying it to their fullest, is that at all possible?

I shall make it my mission.

I find myself growing up too fast too. I got my first decent bonus this year in my whole life and other than buying some summer fitting maternity wear that I so desperately need and a pair of Aldo black ballerina flats, I sensibly decided to stow the rest away for a rainy day. I tried to find a bag to splurge it on but even the thought of replacing my fraying Longchamp bag was a little indulgent in my eyes. I didn't bother shopping for more frocks or toys for the new Bub, instead I find myself making plans for our forever home. But I don’t know what this all means yet. We can’t decide what is the best course of plan and nobody that really matters to us seem to mind whichever decision we make, to stay or to go/ to keep or to sell. So the main thing to remind myself to prioritise is our little family unit’s wellbeing and happiness. Not to try to overachieve or aspire for a home that is too hard to maintain nor to please anyone else but just us.

The horrid thing about living in the social media enabled sharing society we are today is the incessant need to be pinterest/ Instagram worthy. I had a Matcha sundae for lunch today. It was pretty and totally gonna garner likes if I had taken a picture and posted it on my Instagram. But I wanted to dig in as soon as I received it. No time to stop and take a picture. So I have no ‘evidence’ that it had happened. But my belly is happy and my thirst in this summer heat quenched. So the grown up me enjoyed the moment and acknowledges it happened. Much like the home that I aspire to build. Lovely refuge for my girls and man and a hospitable place always open to guests, with food in the pantry. That’s all it needs to be.

You never stop becoming

When I read this in the nytimes review of the TV series Girls finale it was a poignant reminder of what life really is: “Girls” is a story of becoming. Hannah has become an author, become a teacher, become a parent. But she also — like all of us — will never stop becoming. Nothing stops being a struggle. No one stops growing up. You triumph and screw up, you succeed and backslide. You walk on...

It is true that the essence of life is about the becoming. Reflecting on the words our friends and family specifically remember us saying at each stage though, I know I have become so much more. I remember a cousin once observed how truly in love I was with my boyfriend and then juxtaposed with another time, in my stop in Malaysia before coming over to London where Kak made an observation that she thought I no longer believed in Love. I was two years into my marriage then and heartbroken from the long distance I endured not long after we married. Kak knew me more from my Carrie Bradshaw-esque single girls era where I was fervently searching for real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love.

Looking at the snippets of social media I've shared since 2007 (Facebook) and 2010 (Instagram), the past ten years truly documented my becoming a woman. First a fun-seeking willing to try anything young woman in her early twenties. Just out of Uni, had my first taste of travel to Japan and Europe, earning enough in my bank account to purchase my first designer bag (my lust for Louis Vuitton back then was my biggest weakness and worse obsession in my life). I agonised over why he wouldn't say he loved me. Formulated theories over why he tortured me so and then threw it to the wind and went fine dining and fine wine tasting with friends before dancing/singing into the depths of the night.

In 2010, I went to America and got proposed to, after which I began this blog and thus began preparing myself for this rite of passage called Marriage. I thought I knew all about it and the kind of wife I would be, essentially a bigger, badder-arse version of the girlfriend I was, with full financial control over the household. Ah that was not to be so. I was repressed in a career that I loved, but didn't feel respected in, I flitted between the glamour of living a blog-worthy life and the realities of making a marriage work and how it doesn't include my girlfriends or my love of the culinary delights in top restaurants, not with Mr.HEA anyways. When we stripped it down with all our soul-searching, it didn't even include the house we thought would be our family home. It wasn't the city or the life we need to show we lived, it was just the two of us and how important it was that both of us were continuously seeking to work at our marriage and respect each others' dreams and talents.

So I began my thirties in Europe. A three star Michelin restaurant in Paris full of Epicurious delights heralded in a year of travel and rebuilding. We had pressed the reset button on our relationship and we thought we had the foundations of what truly mattered to us sorted. We thought then, perhaps it is time to start a family. I thought that was what was missing. I began the journey to Motherhood with a lot of high standards. Being away from my friends and family in a melting pot of a city, I could decide on any way I wanted to bring up my child without the pressures of society. The people I hung out with just assumed I was adopting the Malaysian Chinese/ Australian way if I signed up to something different.

But it was precisely this approach that wore me out as a mother. So many decisions and so many right answers but not knowing what was right for us became daunting and overwhleming. Coupled with post-natal hormones and sleep deprivation, I crumbled slowly and my relationship with Mr.HEA with it. We fought and cried so much all three of us that I swore we couldn't go on. He accused me of not being prepared for motherhood, of spoiling her and of not wanting to be a mother, but it isn't that. I know. I adore her, my little girl and now that she is more independent, I know I couldn't have given her a better start in her life with what we had. I know we have to live with the actions we've shown her and fighting and shouting perhaps shouldn't have happened, but I stand by not letting her cry it out, I stand by the baby led weaning and the breastfeeding on demand and not succumbing to the formula in her early months. I was there when she needed me. I gave her all I could. Sure I was broken from it all and not a very good wife after it, but I never regretted having her. Mr.HEA was wrong. What I was wrong about, was that I underestimated how much of a mental shift it was to be a mother compared to before. I shouldn't have aimed to be a super wife, because that created a man who couldn't anticipate my needs and then when the going got tough, I was left on my own to fend for it all. He watched from the sidelines, refusing to support my approaches because he thought I should have been more like his mother in my methods. And I hated. every. minute.

Rant aside, we've come out of that now. I think I am a stronger mother, I'd gone back to work and made it work being a working mother. I am lucky enough now to be in a challenging role career wise, but also comfortable to not need to climb further whilst I let my daughter's needs take the spotlight. Sure I lament not being able to check out the latest hotspots in town or having girly dates out, or last minute theatre plans or even just time to myself. I have come to terms with the fact that this is just how it is being a mum.

My life is behind the scenes now. Making life choices and teaching a little human being the skills she needs to navigate this world with. I have become more hippy than ever and less eager to chase after the latest fashion styles or lifestyle trends. Life as a working mum with one child is manageable and good. We even have travelled to six countries with her so far and I have done two trips aside on my own.

Will I become something else next? The next chapter is surely not far ahead. A soccer mum? Will I give up my job for my kids and become a SAHM? I don't know just yet. I just know never to say never. We are embarking upon a new life the end of this year. It should be familiar, but perhaps different challenges will present themselves too. Not perhaps. They definitely will. I am becoming the mother of two. The doors will close on this easy life I know now. And one day they might open again with homework and sport events in tow. But please I implore you to not give up on me and to not judge my weaknesses. I assure you we are well. And Hopeful for a better start to Dumpling #2's introduction to this world.

The years are short

Anecdotes from my toddler who is nowadays so full of sass:

Dad: are you causing havoc for mummy?
She looks up from the pile of stuff she's pulled out of my kitchen cupboards and grins. "Not yet," she cheekily replies.

She comes to me," Mummy High five?" As I put my hand out she withdraws and says, "Too slow".

Whenever her daddy is eating and she isn't, she'll walk up to him and demand,"Some"

She threw our ceramic monkey onto the tile floor and its head broke off. Two days later I had to take her to the doctor's and she requested we brought monkey in too. "The Dr said no more monkeys jumping on the bed!"

In front of her dad, I cheekily asked," Shall we cut up the Mango tomorrow when Daddy isn't around and share amongst ourselves?" She looks at me with a glint in her eye and says "Yeah!"

Points at my pimple scab and says "Yuck! Mummy face dirty"

Also points at bathroom mould near the taps,"Bathroom dirty". Yes Boss!

At any time when you ask her a question about something she wants or knows, she'd affirm with "Yeah" in the same intonation as "Duh!". All that's missing is the rolling of eyes, although I swear it's there sometimes in my mind.





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Children tie the feet of their mothers

There's something weighing on my mind and as the universe goes, when you're obsessing over something somehow an article or two that speaks to you will pop up on your social media feed. Perhaps the algorithms are just getting that much better.

I had a fight with my mother during CNY. I think she deserves a better life but she keeps putting others first and not fighting for herself.

I resent that. I have this complex from constantly being deprioritised by her. Other children were always more important than me. She'd take on board all the cousins so that she didn't have a rest day and the aunties could have child free days instead. She would buy toys for them usually using my Wishlist as a gauge as to what they may like but it's not for me. She said it was greater to give your best to others and that joy of giving is our best present.

And when we went on holidays she wouldn't come. Somehow believing that holidays were far too indulgent for her and not working or being 'useful' irked her somewhat. She'd stay behind to work whilst my bro and I went somewhere with a relative. The only holidays she went on she'd need it to be sold to her as meaningful. A networking event for the business, a time to reunite my grandmother with her daughters. Work and the unity of our extended family was all she cared about. Not so her own family unit. We were just meant to be model children who practiced all the values and met her high standards when it came to work ethic, generosity, kindness and selflessness. The only time I'd get to spend time with her is if we joined the family business. That was her only way she would believe. She'd make my sister in law and brother do the same. Marry them to the business because she cannot see a life beyond it. She calls it working for yourself.

I speak of all this in disdain. Yet my husband points out that I am no different ( though I implore he calls me out if I ever make my daughter feel as unimportant as I'd felt all my life) from her. I am my mother although I was raised by my grandmother. I am her in family values and the tireless need to make someone happy. Even the shopping penchant I inherited from my dad is channeled into buying gifts that make others happy. Spending money on myself always left me trying my hardest to justify my purchases with reasons other than I'm worth it.

But this isn't about me. It is my mother, a woman whom I hope would one day live for herself. Practice her meditation, become vegan, and attend Buddhist conferences. Perhaps one day she would allow my dad to pamper her in the way she covets without her feeling like it is not her right. One day she may actually finish her massage or facial relaxed and not jumping out of the bed because she has to rush off somewhere else.

That reminds me then to not make my daughter ever feel like she is not worth it. Whilst balancing it against her sense of self- entitlement. I must at least let her know that her happiness if based upon kind and sensible matters( as opposed to material things), is most certainly worth my attention and my time and one day, hopefully a partner's attention and time. Because I don't want her to be self deprecating, I don't want her to be taken for granted the way my mother is and the way I feel.

Which brings me back to the Indian proverb "Children tie the feet of their Mothers" that I read from an article on Mothers slowing down for their children. This morning when my toddler said to me (as she has been the past few days) that she wanted to walk to nursery, I chose to quash the nagging voice in me that I'd have to carry her half the way, that she'd make me late for my train and instead I allowed her to. She surprised me by not falling down once, not asking to be carried and I still made my train in to work. Perhaps my little girl is growing up too fast and I have to learn to be patient with her demands before she no longer enjoys walking with me and certainly before she learns to no longer ask me for such simple pleasures in life.



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New year New me

This is something I hardly ever do, but I will try to keep the resolve. It is a wonderful time of my life as a mother as the toddler becomes more understanding and helpful. I find myself looking towards the next stage of life more readily now. This time I will be more prepared, less stressed and hopefully happier with everything to go as they will.

It feels as though the first steps of motherhood really took me by surprise and my child seems to have developed her personality and understanding of the world entirely by herself. I am merely a bystander observing in fraught wonder.

She has figured out descriptive words, the concept of possession, imaginary play all by herself. Each day I spend with her she surprises me with what she's managed to understand. I caught her trying to count backwards before she launched off the mat, her imaginary rocket launchpad. Her dad called her baby cakes yesterday and she said, mummy's the baby cakes. She is a cupcake. She asks Why at everything we want her to do that she refuses to. She sings happy albeit tunelessly. She also said yesterday at dinner that Daddy's the man. Ok fine we were trying to get her to say Superman, but perhaps she's figured it out, she doesn't need a fictional superhero when she's got Daddyman in her life, a real life superhero.

Sometimes I find myself forgetting to view him as that anymore. Focusing only on the things he isn't or hasn't done. It's detrimental to our relationship. So this year, I will change. I will focus on the positive. See the good and funny once more and choosing the view that laughs at life's more challenging moments.

Like this one where she is still in her NYE party dress the day after because she refused to take it off. I can't help it, instead of getting frustrated, I let her twirl about in her pink tulle, knowing she won't be little forever and there will be a time when this is no longer cute. So dance on my little one. I will just be here capturing the moments.





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Is life enough?

Somehow I find myself sulking at the lack of parties and events to head to this Christmas. There seems no point going with a toddler that is hell bent on wanting to touch/break every Christmas decoration, climbing stairs that she's not good at coming down on and walking straight into dangerous paths. The stress of it all is just too great. Plus I have been the sole care giver the past few weeks as her dad has been getting slammed at work. I don't mind the whole not having to make dinner part so I can just focus on playing with and educating her, but it still gets a bit much you know? I crave the companionship of good girlfriends. A laugh, a drink, a good girly bonding activity.

I miss my girlfriends. I miss my old life. Motherhood is not what the world cut it out to be. Yes it is rewarding seeing the world from her eyes and seeing her explore this world for her own and make up her own mind, but it is a life of sacrifice of everything you'd ever found precious or dear: the good food, the travel to exotic places, the shopping for luxury items, sleep. They rob you of your youth, vitality and sanity truly. And when you have nothing left to give, she still yells "Mummy!" in the dead of night and you are expected to be at her beck and call again whilst she insists on kicking you fervently to make sure you are still there in bed with her.

I see longingly a friend's wedding back home in KL. It's a beautiful affair with designer suits and gowns and bespoke Jimmy Choos. And I am envious. Envious that I can't go back to that carefree moment when I truly believed my best years with my best friend was still ahead of me. I watch Grand designs present a modern mews that was built for a young new family in East London and how they married their family life to their living space in London and I am envious again. Envious that I do not even live in a space where I truly believed I loved and can make dreams in. The heavy scent of discontent has not been something I had ever been familiar with and I don't know how it all started. I really don't know how I got here.

Despite all the whinging though, I still burst with pride as my determined daughter edges her way into this world, one small leg trying to take two steps at a time. She puts strings of words together now and actively tries to communicate. I feel like she loves me most because I am the only one in this world that listens to her and affirms my understanding of what she has just said. I am the only one in her world that understands her language. And life with the man? Well let's just say, being single in this world of Tinder and other social crazies terrify me. We live in a heavily populated earth and yet I'd feel alone if he wasn't by my side watching a TV show, criticising our dreams together with me.

So I ask myself, is life enough? Perhaps we will slowly forget how good it was to live for ourselves as we accept our parental roles. I know the tantrums will fade but I will be pulled in other ways. There will be homework and packed lunches and extracurricular activities to keep up with. There will be her social life too to manage on top of her education and instilling values and faith. I suppose the good memories we have with our children will also build up in time and we will eventually stop lamenting the loss of the glamorous adult parties we used to throw, the dream house will become a family home and before we know it, we will have to worry about our own health and not being a burden to our children.

Perhaps then, hopefully then, we will still be together and happily say we pulled through and yes, life was enough. It was more than enough. It was the best it could have ever been.




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How is Motherhood?

This is the question everyone has asked me this first trip back presenting my baby to everyone in Syd and Hong Kong. I have portrayed a very relaxed and flexible mom on holidays. Baby sleeping at midnight so that we can stay up late and she's been so compliant, not a tantrum from lack of sleep and even willing to sleep in in the mornings to make up for it. Such a dream!

If only I knew it was always going to have been this way. Or perhaps it would have been if I didn't stress so much last year. I wonder about what life could have been if I raised her here in Sydney with her doting grandparents and cousins galore. We had a barbecue the other night with family and in the midst of eight other children she'd just met running around playing cheerfully, she stood on the sidelines every so often trying to catch the attention of another child to play with her. I worried so much then that that could be her in nursery, that she had no idea how to gain the attention of her peers. What if she didn't have the social skills to make friends because I didn't teach her the right way? I don't remember any bosom buddies from when I was that little. Also, what if it was my fault because I didn't have regular play dates for her with familiar kids so that she knew what it was like to have a friend?

It's hard not knowing what to do because it is your first child. But despite all the longings of how much better the Motherhood and her childhood experience could have been in Syd because of the people we know here, we kept longing for London's culture, the European travels and the routine of our quiet lives back in Putney whilst we were here. I surprisingly did not go crazy shopping this trip. Something to do with having a shoebox flat perhaps.

Seeing her love her grandparents' home so much has been endearing. Everyday she knows to play in the lounge by herself and to come to the kitchen to be fed. She has been so content living here the past ten days. Not a day has she really pestered me for 'Gai gai' our word for going out. But she would pester her grandma for more food and give a massive cheeky smile when presented with her own bowl of noodles even if she was really tired. And the parroting on this trip has been fun. I have heard her discover so many words and even stringing two word sentences together. Amazing! Her grandparents have even asked us to leave her here for a year, which I shall take as compliment on how well behaved they have found her this trip.

I think we got lucky because she hasn't quite reached the terrible twos just yet. She is so quietly determined to achieve the things she set out to such as climbing her cousins' bunk bed in HK that I have no doubt the year ahead will be a struggle for me. Will I discipline her? Will she respond? Will I be up to the task of teaching her the right etiquette, cultural references, language and attitude?

It's hard to tell. Even as I type this post, WhatsApp notifications pop up with my bestie telling me she is such a good kid. I hope I don't ruin her with my bad habits and won't let laziness and forgetfulness sneak in with bad parenting styles.

That's all I can hope for I suppose. I need to tirelessly dedicate the next twenty years of my life guiding and nurturing her and not try to smother her or crowd her judgement or confidence. Heres hoping that I'd remember that.





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When you no longer want to listen to me

A Young woman and her mum presumably visiting her in London are having the same conversation I can picture me having with my mum. The weight of patience from the daughter toward a nagging mum who is unsure of the life the daughter is about to embark upon. Coming from completely different cultural backgrounds, with different values towards ambition and life, both trying their best to meet in the middle somewhere and not land in a fight over touchy topics too early on in the visit. Inevitably I wonder if I'd ever get there with you, my firstborn.

I'll be more understanding and not make you live my life, I say. But the world seems rather scary these days. Without a set of rules and values to help guide you, I feel very insecure. I sit in conferences that tout Artificial Intelligence doing a job I did for the first three years of my career. And I wonder what jobs you'd have as options when it's your turn. What skills do I need to equip you with to get you to where you'd want to be?

At fifteen months you're already developing a rich imagination. You found some cartons of ready formula over the weekend in the lower shelves of the pantry. After unsuccessfully trying to open one to feed yourself, you decided they'd make good planes and 'flew' them over your head for a while until you noticed me watching. You hand me one of them. I mimic you, 'flying the plane', but you protest and push the carton closer to my ear whilst raising yours to the same. We are on the phone now mummy, babble babble. It amazed me that you are so expressive and your ability to gamify what was initially a disappointing scenario for you is encouraging. I love that imagination. To me it means you could never be bored. That you'd always have the tools within yourself to pick yourself up and believe in the achievement of the impossible. It is such a precious gift to have.

That's not the only skill set fueling your child's play. I never thought it but those soft rolls in your legs are now supporting your rotund belly as you charge around the flat at full speed and giggles abound at our guesses as to where you're headed. Usually you'd run right into us for a big warm hug wrapping your little hands around our necks if we are low enough, or our waist if we have our backs to you or if we're standing around our knees. You may be small but you hug with all your might (and big heart) and it is as strong a hold as a half hearted adult cuddle.

You chat. You want me to listen. You try to chuck my phone if I am on it and not paying full attention to you. You know the words, cheese, banana, book, bird, baba, cheers and animal sounds for fish, cow, snakes and that kangaroos and bunnies hop. You can point to so much more to identify them when I am asking you to.

You are just so clever that I feel myself overflowing with pride. I couldn't have planned you better. And I continue this post three months on from starting it, not wanting to change a word from the previous post because I can never return to that moment now, you have more of a vocabulary now and your pretend play skills have expanded. The day I posted a picture of you delightfully playing with your toy kitchen for the first time I was overjoyed but the dark day quickly turned for the worse before I knew it.



Your beautiful cyan dress that I've always loved you in is cut up now, possibly in landfill. Every time you tense your joints or curl your left hand my heart flutters out of control and nears panic mode as I struggle to push the memories of you convulsing on the floor of the shopping centre out of my mind. I try to not blame myself but I shouldn't have put you on the slide, I shouldn't have clapped stockings on you when we went out to the shops. Sometimes this is precisely when I cannot reconcile the east and west in me to decide what I need to do for you to care for you. I let you overheat that day. I held back on the paracetamol hoping you would cure naturally. I caused your body unbelievable grief that day and I paid for it a thousand times fold as I held your stiff soundless self as your wild confused eyes searched the surroundings and recognised nothing not even me or my cries. Even though you've quickly forgiven me and adore me still.

My darling girl, mummy was never qualified to do this job and being strict on you is tough for me too. But I have to try my best to not fail you and part of that is to make you listen as much as you can now because one day you won't listen to me anymore and you won't forgive me for the mistakes I made. You might not even acknowledge the sacrifices we made. However, despite the tough week just past where you fought me every day through your antibiotics, where you were impossibly spoiled because we slept with you every night, where I ended up in the ambulance myself in Luxembourg cause I had tried to fight the infection you gave me but failed embarsssingly. Despite all that my dear, I will keep trying to be strong for you and to give you my best without failing you again the way I did. I hope you'll listen to me.








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Momentary revelry of life

Hi.

I am still here. I never said goodbye. I thought I was ready, but I miss you so much which is why although I let go of the other domain, I couldn't help but want to salvage and reinstate this for the old posts and memories. So much has happened since I'd last left here for Wordpress. Moving to UK, fun employment, living the expat life, pregnancy, motherhood. I am still trying to figure it all out. This is the first time in a long while that I thought I've got it in the bag by now, this motherhood thing. I can go through my daily routine working five days a week really smoothly. I feel happy at work and feel like I can contribute and then I get to come home and be with my child and each her grow and establish her own little personality. What has helped immensely so far:
1. The toddler finally having a routine and sleeping longer hours in the day and at night. Her being more predictable meant we could plan our schedules better.
2. Planning ahead and packing ahead the night before or when she sleeps. Meal planning on the commute so that when I get home I am not planning whilst a fussy toddler is hanging on to my leg begging for food/attention.
3. Working one day from home makes a world of difference as I am able to clean the flat quickly before the toddler gets home.
4. Keeping meals simple and meat and three veg is mainly done in one pot with the toddler eating the same thing as us. I used to make different meals for her but it was running me to the ground and she was not enjoying food the way I wanted her to so we just threw caution to the wind . She eats healthy at nursery five days a week, so if we follow the 5:2 diet, she's doing just fine. Our weeknight dinners can range as follows:

Mon: Lemon and Orange stewed vegetables and breaded chicken breast nuggets
Tues: Pan fried minute steak with wilted garlic spinach and minted peas
Wed: Herb and nut stuffed chicken breast with stir fried wombok
Thurs: Fish curry stew with a medley of root vegetables
Fri: Homemade Pizza night ( My Thermomix kneads the dough whilst I work from home).

Sometimes Thursday is leftovers night and fried rice or casserole of some sort is always a good way to use up the leftovers so we can clear the fridge for groceries and fresh cooking on the weekend.

It's good, the little one is happy and ever ready to learn these days. Just the weekend passed, I discovered she can say book, mmm for cow, she can point to her head when I say it and throws her hands up high and opens and shuts her little hands for Twinkle twinkle little star. All from me just slowly listening to her carefully and not being dismissive of her babble. I am stoked (and stunned) that she is communicating and developing more skills. But on the other hand, this makes for a very active child that is constantly bugging me to read book after book to her if we are at home, or to walk her around the restaurant if we are out. This latter one I am not a fan of. She just won't sit in a high chair anymore whilst I catch up with my friends. I have a feeling that this smugness and confidence in being a working mum is about to dissipate. I am on the cusp of parenting a walking toddler and fearfully awaiting the tantrums, arguments and more teething.

Until then, I wanted to note down this momentary revelry of life. Things are good and I don't want to take it for granted. Shall I disappear again, you'll find me on my Instagram account until I emerge again for air. Holding my breath for now. Talk soon...or later.





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3 Things I Wish I Knew Before We Got Married

I still have some holiday posts to go up, but I feel like I haven't done a chest-baring post for a while. One that lets you all know what really went on under the surface of the happy holiday-making.

So here goes, my happy ever after almost ended in Madrid. He left me in the streets because we were fighting. Something really good happened in my career path just before I left you see, and I begged the question to Mr.HEA, if my career was to go places, would he give up UK and come back for me. And he never answered the question. I mean, he said he would, but I knew it wasn't what his heart wanted.

So, I prayed a prayer in Barcelona. At Gaudi's beautiful cathedral, I got on my knees in the pews and sought God's guidance, and I remembered the second reading we chose in our wedding ceremony. I chose it actually, in case you start thinking badly of Mr HEA, but I chose Ephesians 5's way on marriage, because I do believe in the teachings of Christ and that if we tried our best to follow Christ's framework of love, it would all work. And I knew it would need to serve as a reminder for us for the rest of our married life, because I was so strong-willed, I would find it hard to submit.

Anyways, Mr HEA and I talked it through that night. It was the beginning of many conversations. And my thoughts of leaving him dimmed because I wasn't about to make a life choice that goes against the value system that I had built for myself. After all, I have a path to walk and I wish to walk that with integrity; part of that was always to fulfill my role as a good Wife. I had fundamentally always dreamed of being that one day. And almost two years ago, I deemed Mr.HEA as the One when we walked down that aisle together as Husband and Wife.

I am happy now. It's funny how the world becomes less harsh when you stop going against the tide. I am more at peace now and Mr.HEA seems supportive and loving once more, instead of that torn man he was when I first realised I had to let him go to London, the one he reverted to once again when I begged him to come back for me.

I was the only thing left in Sydney that he loved (vice versa, he was the only thing in UK that I loved). He wanted me to want to join him because we missed living with each other so much. We had forgotten how to live with each other being apart for six months, and that scared us so. 

So, I took steps to revisit getting that visa to go over. Steps we postponed in February this year because we hoped another route would come through, but we were at the mercy of a big corporate and all their politics. That' always a horrible place to be. I made the choice to take it into our own hands instead and chose the route that we knew was risky but yielded quicker results. I think I will be there to join him soon. Well, there's hope anyways. Perhaps October? In time for our second year anniversary if the stars could align that way, but in any case, it'll be before this year is over I guess.

I've strung you along for quite a read now, when all I really wanted to share was the article below that I found on Facebook, words of Wisdom from a married man's perspective. If you don't mind reading further, please do, the teachings are beautiful.

I used to think I had my stuff together. Then I got married.

Marriage is great—but it rocked everything I knew. I quickly realized my basic goal in life, prior to getting married, was to simply remain undisturbed.

This “disruption” came suddenly and was disguised as a 5-foot-nothing Swedish-Filipino woman. When I decided I’d rather not live without her, I proceeded to ask her to marry me—that is, to officially invite someone who wasn’t me to be in my personal space for the rest of my life.

This decision introduced my most significant experiences and most challenging experiences—none of which I would trade for the world.

However, I wish I’d had a bit more insight on the front end of our marriage to help me navigate it all.

According to most research, more than 50 percent of people who say “I do” will not be sleeping in the same bed eight years from now. And though Scripture alludes to the fact that adultery and abuse may be reasons individuals might end a marriage, I’d be willing to bet that most challenges experienced in marriage are the result of unawareness. Most people—myself included—jump into marriage with suitcases full of misconceptions and bad theology, entirely unaware of the unique beauty and paradoxical intentions of marriage.


Although happiness is often a very real byproduct of a healthy relationship, marriage has a far more significant purpose in sight.
The following are three thoughts on marriage that friends and mentors have shared with me. I remind myself of them often in hopes of keeping this anomaly called marriage both enjoyable and healthy.

1. Marriage is not about living happily ever after.

Here’s the truth: I get annoyed at my wife. But this is more a reflection of me than her.

I’m intensely certain that nothing in life has ever made me more angry, frustrated or annoyed than my wife. Inevitably, just when I think I’ve given all I can possibly give, she somehow finds a way to ask for more.

The worst part of it all is that her demands aren’t unreasonable. One day she expects me to stay emotionally engaged. The next, she's looking for me to validate the way that she feels. The list goes on—but never ventures far from things she perfectly well deserves as a wife.

Unfortunately for her, deserving or not, her needs often compete with my self-focus. I know it shouldn’t be this way, but I am selfish and stubborn and, overall, human.

I once read a book that alluded to the idea that marriage is the fire of life—that somehow it’s designed to refine all our dysfunction and spur us into progressive wholeness. In this light, contrary to popular opinion, the goal of marriage is not happiness. And although happiness is often a very real byproduct of a healthy relationship, marriage has a far more significant purpose in sight. It is designed to pull dysfunction to the surface of our lives, set it on fire and help us grow.

When we’re willing to see it this way, then the points of friction in our marriages quickly become gifts that consistently invite us into a more whole and fulfilling experience of life.

2. The more you give to marriage, the more it gives back.

Over the past year, a few friends and I have had an open conversation about the highs and lows of marriage—specifically how to make the most of the high times and avoid the low ones. Along the way, we happened upon a derailing hypothesis that goes something like this: If one makes their husband or wife priority number one, all other areas of life benefit.


When we return marriage to its rightful place in our priorities, it can quickly turn into the greatest asset to every other layer of our lives.

It’s a disorienting claim. Disorienting, because it protests my deeper persuasion that success as an entrepreneur, or any professional, requires that career takes the throne of my priorities and remain there for, at the very least, a couple of years.


However, seeing that my recent pattern of caring about work over marriage had produced little more than paying bills and a miserable wife, I figured giving the philosophy a test drive couldn’t hurt.

For 31 days, I intentionally put my wife first over everything else, and then I tracked how it worked. I created a metric for these purposes, to mark our relationship as priority, and then my effectiveness in all other areas of my life on the same scale, including career productivity and general quality of life.

To my surprise, a month later, I had a chart of data and a handful of ironic experiences to prove that the more you give to marriage, the more it gives back.

Notably, on the days my wife genuinely felt valued, I observed her advocating for me to invest deeply in to my work. She no longer saw our relationship and my career pursuits as competitors for my attention, and as she partnered with me in my career, I have experienced the benefits of having the closest person in my life champion me.

Of course, marriage requires sacrifice. And sometimes it will feel as if it takes and takes. However, when we return marriage to its rightful place in our priorities, it can quickly turn from something we have to maintain and sacrifice for into the greatest asset to every other layer of our lives.

3. Marriage can change the world.

John Medina, the author of Brain Rules and a Christian biologist, is often approached by men looking for the silver bullet of fathering. In one way or another, they all come around to asking, “What’s the most important thing I can do as a father?”

Medina's answer alludes to a surprising truth.

In my previously mentioned experiment, I measured the effect that making my marriage priority number one had on different areas of my life. One of those areas was my 16-month-old son’s behavior.

What I found in simply charting my observations was that the majority of the time, my child’s behavior was directly affected by the level of intention I invested in my marriage.

Re-enter John Medina, the Christian biologist. After years of biological research and several books on parenting conclusions, what is his answer to the question, “What’s the most important thing I can do as a father”?

“Go home and love your wife.”

Gary Ezzo and Robert Bucknam, the authors of Babywise, say it this way: “A healthy marriage creates an infused stability within the family and a haven of security for a child in their development process.” They go on to sum up their years of research by saying, “In the end, great marriages produce great parents.”

The point is that marriage has a higher goal than to make two people happy or even whole. Yes, the investment we make into our marriage pays dividends for us. But, concluded by Medina and his colleagues, the same investment also has significant implications for our family, our community and eventually our culture.

So men, women, the next time you find yourself dreaming about living significantly or succeeding in your career or being a better parent than yours were to you, do the world a favor: Go home and love your wife. Go home and and love your husband.

Admin Khuy

From the other side

Last week has been difficult because my manager's just come back from maternity leave. I don't mean to judge but watching her settle back in (or not) really makes me question a lot of things about what I will be like when it comes to my turn.

From my perspective: it really sucks being a colleague of someone who  has just come back from one year's maternity leave. It's hard for everyone at stake.

Here's the story, she comes back and she doesn't want to work full time any more but she wants the same role. While we think it's not possible but because we love her we divvy up her work and try to make sure everything goes on as normal. At the same time management tell us the extra workload will not be remunerated because that's how it's going to be if we want her back into the workplace, and they are putting all their resources into making sure she is supported, not us. Is that really fair on us? We don't want her to not come back but the truth is she can't work at the same capacity and it affects everyone else in the team, but she's the only one it seems that will get the support, not us, so management tells us.

So what does the workplace do to accommodate all these costs and intricacies of facilitating a working mother's needs? What do we do to accommodate/accept the decisions made?

What is right and just for her is the opportunity to actually be a mother and still work. And we want that for her because it means something for us too in our future with the organisation. But, somehow nothing was planned and everything is so haphazard now for her coming back. They really should have thought about this 12 months ago when she left to have her baby. Sigh. Mind you, settling in with the manager of the maternity contract was not even that easy and now we go into turmoil again readjusting to yet another change to the team.

Here's my notes for myself:
1) As soon as I fall pregnant, really start thinking about the current workplace and putting things in place so that I can go and come back with minimal impact to the team

2) Don't take that long off work because it makes it harder to come back (Separation anxiety with your kid apparently is easier to deal with when they're much younger) and harder for the team to adjust twice plus it stagnates their progress.


If you've been incredulous reading through this and maybe a little upset, I apologise, but I am noting these feelings because one day I will be on the other side and I have to remember what it was like for my team members now for when it's my turn then.

Also, I was raised very differently. In Asia, Maternity leave was a foreign concept. You get your confinement period to recover and then off you go again. My mother didn't have to worry about the business stagnating or adjusting to change. The mentality is Work is important and she has to put work first so we fitted around her time-wise and priority-wise. And it was acceptable. It was the way it was and it instilled in me a good work ethic myself.


My mum sent me this photo recently. I think she means to say she missed those days when we were little and still clung to her. I was surprised as I had never seen these photos before. I didn't remember ever taking breaks and family trips with my parents when we were little. I assumed they were so busy working that we never went.

But here it is, evidence that they still tried and gave us time when we were little and that the two young mum and dad did everything they could to provide money and care for us.

So the decision is mine, What will I do when it comes my turn?


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Bucket List

To live in Italy one day ala Frances Mayes in Under the Tuscan Sun but with Mr HEA as the grumpy old
man that is constantly asking me when is the next meal which will be made out of the freshest
 Italian local produce.

To go to Bangkok on that shopping trip with my girl cousins and to go to Vietnam with my girlfriends like we vowed to over dessert/ cocktails but then we let the daily grind take over and haven't revisited the idea since.

To be able to live in London with Mr.HEA and build our home there living simple lives

 On the cooking front:

To Master Macarons

To learn how to roll rice dumplings

To learn how to make sushi

To learn how to cook Confit of Trout/Duck

So many more dishes that I'd like to learn: Nem Nuong, Pho, slow cooked eggs,  Radish/Yam cake.

And Restaurants I am yet to visit: MoVida, Quay (Guava Snow egg!), Fat Duck (Sound of the Sea!), Porteno (Fried Brussel Sprouts goodness), Popolo and Momofoku (Infamous Pork Buns).

What about you? Do you have things that you'd like to achieve or want to share with that special someone or are saving for that particular joyous occasion? Given what I've been through in the last few months without Mr.HEA, sometimes I begin to believe that Life is what you make of it. There is no point getting hung up on dates and specific anniversaries or birthdays as long as you keep building and reminiscing on the great memories. My motto from here onwards is to concentrate on my three Fs, Food, Friends and Family.

Thought for the day

When will great people's spouses/ partners start writing books so that when geniuses are at the height of their vision or madness, their spouses have a point of reference?

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Things I wish I knew at 16

On beauty:

• That you'll develop your first awareness of wrinkles when you hit 28, but don't worry, after a year of a constant moisturising regime, their appearance will minimise. But gosh you should really be kinder to your eyes and neck.


• Freckles are the bain of your life. You do not discover this until you get to Australia two years later and lazily do not use sun screen for the first year of your life. From that point onwards, the damage could never be reversed. NEVER. Not even when you fraxeled them off for your wedding. Which by the way was a perfect waste of a thousand dollars.

 

On friendship:

• That 'bestie' you had at 16, isn't your bestie anymore now. In fact, you should never have moved in with her in Sydney.


• The friend that you judged all the time because you didn't understand her understands you better than you do her, and is so much better a person than you could ever hope to be. But never fear, you grow up to understand her better and she becomes your one true friend that is almost like your sister. Go easy on her, she deserves for you to be a better friend.

On fashion:

• The bags you buy, Don't obsess on the fashion items. They don't last in popularity for very long and you grow out of them too. And no they don't turn out to be the 'investment' pieces you expect them to be. Off-loading them is really hard and you don't get much money for them!


• That Gold jacket you will see in four year's time for $50. Leave it there. Don't even look at it another time. Walk away from it.


• You overobsessed with pink when you are 18. It will haunt you for a long time. Trust me.


• The harder you try to be different from everyone else, you'll one day grow up to want to be exactly like everyone else. So don't be too proud and too quick to judge.

On family and relationships:

• Love your brother more and be more patient with him when he needs you. One day, you won't be around anymore to guide him and he will be so lost without you, but I understand, you were lost yourself, even though you act like you've got it so together.



• Stop being so mean to your mum. She and you will have very little time together in two years time because you will leave Malaysia and you will hardly come home anymore.


• You'll end up marrying a guy that didn't meet any of the five criterion you listed out with your bestie the other day, but it's alright, he's the perfect man for you

• Don't be so tough on S when you're dating. Hold yourself together and be a kinder girlfriend to him, because he does change after marriage (despite all the things Mum told you were myths about men) and he is the kindest, most loving and understanding husband that hates to disappoint you. Hang in there until then.

Woman

How did you spend International Women's day? I worked at Hunter Valley. Ironically the people I worked with yesterday were all successful females in their own rights and we spent a lot of time talking about working as a woman.

One built a successful business and had four kids but was coping with her second divorce with four kids.

One other was a meek young Director who was working in a man's world and had to learn the art and science of the profession and make it her own world

Another was just trying to build her networks in her career and was grappling with the scenario of whether having drinks with a male client was appropriate networking and how could she handle that situation without losing the client but not overstepping the line.

Things seem so much harder in the corporate world for women. The lady in the first story was being judged for her marriage falling apart because she prioritised her business, How could she be so unfair to her kids, putting them through another divorce? The woman in the last story was not sure whether the scenario would be any different if she was a man. Whether she was reading too much into it, after all they were both married, and worried that the deal might fall through if she didn't agree to the drinks.

All with a variety of career paths but yet each struggling to find their own way and make their way through the world embracing their femininity. Just a lot to reflect upon really as to how far women have come in society, but yet how much further we had to go. How apt to wrap the night up watching SATC 2 on Gem. How many stages of my life have I aligned to these four women and found relatable scenes and quotes from the series/ movies? Did you remember when the four of them stood on the stage and belted out "I am woman Hear me roar"?





The last time I watched it I related to different things, having been just married and was nesting, I related to 'cheating on fashion with furniture' and also I related to the fear of losing the sparkle a lot more then. But this time around, the question of distance between a couple and how no one else looking in could ever really understand the relationship as those that were in it, hit close to the heart.

Scene in the movie where Carrie speaks with her butler who's warming her milk:

- It is fine. She is in India.
- Oh.
-I will see her in one month. I'm afraid if I apologize then, it will hardly make sense.
-So you work here and you travel back and forth?
-Yes. Every three months, when I have a break in work and can afford the plane fare.
- Isn't that hard?
- What, miss?
- Just, you know, being married and spending all that time apart.
-Time does not matter. When we see each other, each time, it is very wonderful. I'm a lucky man.

So with that, I happily ended International Women's day knowing that I will be fine. I am strong enough to get through it all, that others have gone before me and have survived. I have everything ( man, career, girlfriends) that defines me now and will eventually have those which will define my future. As long as I never stop believing in myself and never stop losing focus of who I am. A woman.

Cray Cray for Love



Excerpts from Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, highlighting the points where she is slowly going cray cray because at that point, Love is just no longer enough:

Before Vronsky' s departure for the election, Anna, coming to the conclusion that the scenes which had always taken place every time he left her for a journey might serve to cool his love rather than attach him more firmly to her, resolved to control herself to the best of her ability, so as to endure calmly the separation from him. But the cold, stern look which he had given her when he came to tell her about his journey had wounded her, and he was hardly out of her sight before her resolution was shaken.

In her solitude, as she began to think over his cold look, which seemed to hint at a desire for liberty, she came back, as she always did, to one thing — to the consciousness of her humiliation.

" He has the right to go when and where he pleases. Not only to go, but to abandon me. He has all the rights, and I have none ! But as he knows this, he ought not to have done this. And yet what has he done ? .... He looked at me with a hard, stern look. Of course, that is vague, intangible. Still, he did not formerly look at me so, and it signifies much," she thought;

"that look proves that he is growing cold toward me."

" It is all the same to me," thought Anna, "if only he is here ; and when he is here he cannot help loving me ; he does not dare not to love me."

***

" That is not the cause," said she ; " and I do not understand how my irritability, as you call it, can be caused by the fact that I have come absolutely into your power. How is my position indefinite .'' It seems to me the contrary." 

" I am sorry that you are not willing to understand," he replied, obstinately determined to express his thought. " Its uncertainty comes from this, — that you think that I am free." 

Watching the film on the plane back from London sparked off a niggling thought in me. What if going over to London makes me entirely dependent on Mr.HEA and that slowly drives him insane before driving me off the cliff too?

I didn't use to like Anna when I read the story as a younger woman, but perhaps it was because I feared that insanity that is so inane in females. The one that scares the alpha males away, the one that does not bode well with the Grace and elegance I am aspiring to (wishful thinking).

But now, faced with the tough decisions, its difficult to keep her leashed.

Well, I am not about to give up, but as with all big tasks/goals, the easiest way to achieve them is to take them in bite-sized chunks, so I am doing just that for now. Making my plans one step at a time.