motherhood

My thoughts on that breastfeeding photo

alittlefootprint 3 Comments

Some friends asked me how I felt about the photo circulating around on social media, of a lady breastfeeding openly on the mrt train. And then her subsequent facebook post declaring that she was not affected by the photo going around AND standing firm that there is nothing wrong with it. 

Well, before I start, congratulations on making it to the news and raising awareness on breastfeeding. 

My personal views on this episode? 

First, as a breastfeeding mother, I  feel the difficulties. Many times over the last 2 years,  Little Foot wants milk at the most inappropriate moments. And she wasn’t going to guai guai keep quiet if I didn’t let her get to the tap. And nope, she wasn’t going to wait till we reach the next private spot. 
Sometime before her 1st birthday, she also started to protest about the nursing cover. So I would run. Literally carry her and run to find a nursing room or sit in the car (oh yes, the luxury of having the mobile space). So we will not be nursing in full view of others. 

Then I started to educate her. Logic + nagging. Because I got tired of the situation!

“Do you want other babies to drink milk milk?” …”do you want uncles to see mummy milk?” . She got the idea somewhere along the way. And so we reached a nice compromise. She goes into the carrier and she would say “cover cover!” and nurse. Only in the car or when we have a room of sorts can she nurse without restriction. Fair deal.
So that’s us.  

Second, we all have rights. Your rights don’t overshadow mine and vice versa. I feel that perhaps all parties need not be self-entitled/ overly self-righteous.
It was not right for the busybody person to take the photo and post it online. That person ought to be ashamed of him/herself for doing it. 

Yet I also wonder if it was a little much to demand that a cabin full of folks who are not used to such a sight be made to watch in discomfort or “just look away” as the lady puts it. Just because “#proudbreastfeedingmama #useplasticbagtocoveryourselfwhenyoueat#nowrong #mybabywillalwayscomefirst #breastservingdifferentpurposes #notjustsex“?

 (so many hashtags…#fierce)

No babies are the same. Some prefer bottles, some want to directly latch, some reject milk. Some are feisty, some are gentle. So are adults. No two persons comfort level are the same. 

Personally, I respect that breastfeeding may make others uncomfortable. I have been there. I respect Papa Long’s discomfort at letting other men view what he felt they weren’t entitled to. 

And I respect our community’s awkwardness at what they feel is too much while some mothers, especially those who champion breastfeeding, challenge that it is a natural thing to do.

I also understand that there are girls and women who haven’t gotten to my stage and will be uncomfortable at the sight. I remember declaring how I was “scarred for life” when I witnessed my elder sister expressed milk some 10 years ago. And I almost never got round to accepting that I will do it one day because that is a natural thing to do. 

Today, people are actually awkward when I mention that I am still breastfeeding. Some of the elders frown discreetly. Some tell me in my face “够了” (enough already). I take it in my stride. Imagine me getting all riled up, whipping out my boob and breastfeeding in front of them just to make a stand. A bit much isn’t it? 

As an early Gen Yer, I watch how people from Gen X and older complain about us and the millenials saying we have a false sense of entitlement. Perhaps they are not too far from the truth? 

The lady challenged naysayers to try eating and drinking under covers.likely adapted from  arguments of “if you wouldn’t eat your lunch in the toilet, don’t ask my baby to.”

Telling people this is common space. Not happy you look away also hint of that sense of self-entitlement. 

Well…. if it was me, perhaps I would have gotten off the train and searched for a quiet corner to nurse. Maybe on days when I have more resolve, I may have tried to promote delayed gratification (a necessary lifeskill that parents today are stuggling to help their children learn because of or “instant” society and indulgent ways, and which Papa Long nags me about) and told Little Foot to wait or she can cry till we reach our destination (woe betide the other commuters). I would definitely have first offered alternatives like milk bottle (is it still no milk bottle drinking policy on trains?) or tried other distraction techniques. 

Still, who am I to say or judge? Because her comfort levels, views on this subject, and circumstances are not the same as mine. 

So I will reserve my judgement on this. 

And I wish her well on her motherhood journey. 

Meantime, I prefer that people don’t make sweeping statements about breastfeeding mums. 

We are have something in common, but that’s almost as good as just saying we are all humans. 

What I write may rile us some in the breastfeeding, but well, it is my personal stance. No offence. 
Peace. Out. 

Little Foot noticed !

alittlefootprint 1 Comment

Got home unexpectedly early this evening. 

As I approached our unit, I called out “Baby, Babyyyyy!!!” as usual and was greeted with the ever-enthusiastic “Mameeeeee!!!!”

She gleefully informed me,  “I cut the cake!! You see? Birthday Cake!!” Referring to the toy birthday cake she was playing with. Then when I walked through the door she stunned me with the next question. 

Little Foot: “You change bag?” 

Me: *floored* ummm yes. I changed my bag. 

Little Foot: Why!!?

Me: because the other bag too small for my laptop. 

Little Foot: Why!!? 

Me: Because I have to bring laptop home.  This bag is bigger, the other one cannot fit the laptop. 

Little Foot: Mummy change bag? Yes!

And then she moved on to the next line of questioning (about my top and my pants).

The thing is…I have a lot of bags and I change them ever so often. Who would have known that my daughter would notice the mustard laptop bag was different from the Jujube bag I carried out? 

W.O.W. Still overwhelmed with amazement. 

Looks like she’s gonna grow up to be a bag addict like me. 

Still learning to be a mother

alittlefootprint Leave a comment

Motherhood comes naturally to some…

I’ve known people who gave their future kids names and tell about motherhood as their dream career when they grow up.

I’ve seen how some mamas go out alone with 3 kids and look like they have gotten it all sorted out. And their hair is neat and kids are clean.

For me, from day zero, we both knew this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park for me. Obviously! Someone who can’t cook or keep her desk clean, and falls sick so regularly I need someone to look after me most of the time. That’s me. How to be a mother?

So nearly 27 months on, I am still learning.

There are days I feel exasperated – like “What do you want? Quit making sputtering noises like a car engine failing and tell me!!”

There are days when I’m sick and wanna crawl under the bed and hide, but Little Foot finds me and wants me to sing and play “three little monkeys jumping on the bed”.

There are days when I make loud angry remarks at the whole family… because “Aaaahhhh!!!! I just wanna eat my meal in one sitting!!”

There are days when I lie in bed and sob. Because “I. Am. Just. So. Tired… it might be easier if I was dead”.

And then there are days when all the grudges and unfairness gets erased, or at least momentarily forgotten.

Because Little Foot gave me a kiss on my lips. Then again. And again. And again!

Because Little Foot does a “Baby-5!” With me…when we make some little achievement together.

Because Little Foot held my hand and ran with me together after Papa Long shouting “wait for me!!!”

Because Little Foot would have those rare caring moments … like how she suddenly remembered her Papa’s foot was injured, looked over the edge of the bed and asked Papa Long “Are you ok already? Not pain already?”

Because she gives the most brillant grin that is brighter than the sun.

And because I would lay in the dark these days, with my fatigue and constant pain… angry at God for being given thid body that never stopped being in pain, and yet never could hate Little Foot for it, as I would recall how scary the moments after delivering her was…because we were separated and I was left lying in the dark occasionally asking God if my baby is alright.

I still can’t quite cook a decent meal, nor clean up after the Little Hurricane…

But she enjoys bathtimes with me, and being carried like a koala by me, she enjoys singing and running, play pretending and simply just being around me.
And I know these days are getting far and fewer, because of work and because she’s getting more independent.

One day, she will be no longer a baby, no longer a toddler, and perhaps I would still be learning how to be the best a mother can be.

So, if anyone is feeling inadequate, remember you aren’t alone. It is a lifelong class we are taking. Let them teach us to be the best that we can be. Sometimes we fail, but we won’t always be failures unless we stop learning and trying.

And yes, we will get frustrated and pull our hairs or scream our heads off (into pillows I hope). And sometimes we will hide in the cafe opposite our houses, just to get a quiet moment.

It is ok. Because after that is all done. Take a deep breath and go home. I look into her eyes, smell her hair and I tell myself “Anything is possible, because I have you”. Some days are harder than others, but we get through. Somehow.

And yes, because my dearest husband is always there to fill in when I am wanting..and to pick me up when I fall. And remind me through his actions that all can be done…just keep going.

That’s really how I get each day. Tired, in pain, some days dejected, some days delighted.  That’s motherhood as it is. Really. Nothing glamorous at all.

With only 1 child and working full time, some days I find it hard to remember to make sure her teeth are brushed and her probiotics are taken. Sometimes I forget that I haven’t cut my hair for months or stocked up on diapers. Recently I turned up for work without drawing my eyebrows. And today tried to leave my mum’s place without my sling bag containing all my keys and cards and money.

How those with 3 or 4 kids do it and still look like life is good continues to baffle me…but you have my respect for sure.

Thanks Little Foot, for being a tough teacher. It’s really quite a wild ride!

And you know, I always muster my last ounce of strength and go with you when you say “Come, Mummy! Come with me! Runaway!”

Motherhood makes me feel like a wise old granny some days

alittlefootprint Leave a comment

If anyone ever asks me if there ever was a life-changing, coming of age moment for me, my simple answer is Yes, the day Emma came to be.  

I had a chat with a colleague I’ve known for quite some years recently, and during the conversation, she shared a little with me about the stresses from every part of her life that was simply just not within her control and it’s taking a toll on her health.  She too is a mother. 

What I can say is that, as she spoke and I visualised myself in her shoes, it simply felt impossibly exhausting. 

A working mother,

A supervisor holding a heavy portfolio at work. 

An only child of two retirees.

A mother of a young child taken care of by her parents who regularly sends her on emotional roller coaster rides. 

Bills and mortgages to pay, and she is the one bringing in more dough.

I sense her frustrations and her tension. And it’s apparent to everyone as well.

I finally told her my take on this whole work thing — we just do what we can. No point putting up fights and resistance unnecessarily. And the work, it never ends. We are always hard on ourselves and we feel so overwhelmed by the deadlines and the worries that something bad will happen if we don’t try to get things done asap. 

And I said, “it (the work) can never be finished. Tomorrow if we die, someone else will take over the work. We are not indispensable.  We are only indispensable to our children.” 

I’ve never been clearer about my priority in my life. 

I was trying to slowly get her to wrap her head around the idea that if we let all the work and the other stresses affect our health. If anything bad happens to us, what will happen to our children? So take it easy, learn to let go and go with the flow at work. 

Whether anything I said got through, I  don’t know… but at that point, I felt like an wise old granny. And I wonder where the old me went.  

Thrown away with the placenta I suppose. 

The current me stood, staring at the sky, holding a chocolate chiffon cake I had bought for Little Foot. 

At that point, nothing could be clearer. Unspoken.

When you notice the difference, maybe you aren’t being around enough

alittlefootprint Leave a comment

This morning, knowing I was not going to be able to send Little Foot to school with Papa Long, I was extra diligent helping her get changed and ready for school.  Usually, Aunty does it while I get myself ready. 

And when I grabbed a rubber band to tie her hair into the coconut tree hairdo, I was suddenly aware that “hey! Little Foot’s hair has grown quite long!”

And then I note to myself, I haven’t done this for her for too long. Which is why I noticed the difference. 

It’s like how I carry her daily to the car, to the school….every chance I get.  I don’t really realise that she’s grown heavier.  My mother would however exclaim that she’s a big girl already! Whenever she gets to see her and carries her, which is very seldom. 

I don’t marvel at how steady she is at water painting, because I see her do it almost daily and I see how she had improved her grip and control bit by bit over time. 

I see her everyday and don’t realise she has lost a lot of her baby fats, until I see a photo of her half a year ago… 

And the list goes on. 

So parents, what difference did you notice in your child today? Maybe like me, you have delegated the mundane tasks like tying hair and brushing teeth to your helper. 

Are we doing enough for our Little One? Are we around enough? Or more pertinently, are we there in mind and body, or just there but not there? (Sitting around checking WhatsApp while the Little One is being fed by your helper? Guilty as charged some days…) 

Its a good reminder to myself. They are only babies and toddlers for awhile…. don’t wait till they are too old and suddenly too heavy before you realise that you’ve missed out a chunk of their childhood.

Finally the 1st weekend of 2017 has arrived!

alittlefootprint Leave a comment

And so the first week of 2017 has finally come to the end. Phew! Welcome weekend!

Little Foot is slowly adjusting to the idea of lunch times without Mummy, even though she probably can’t quite understand why… and the idea that I may not be there to pick her up from school in the evenings.

Most challenging for Mummy is actually the idea that home is not quite so near anymore…

Having to join the majority of working Singaporeans in the daunting daily commute to and from work  (and which everyone b***hes about a lot) after having blissfully escaped the madness since 2011 is extra painful. Yes, it is a major perk to one’s sanity when you live close to work. 

And 5 years down the road, one does wonder where all these humans (and cars on the roads) come from! It never used to be THAT packed and congested!

I’m thankfully that Papa Long is able to do the afterschool pick ups. So there is some stability to our arrangements for Little Foot. 

It is still early times to say if it will all work out, but for now, one step at a time, have a little faith. I need to gain back the confidence I used to have. 

And when I’m feeling low or lost, to focus on what I’m doing all these for. 

Even if I miss her acutely.

It’s ok when it doesn’t work out

alittlefootprint Leave a comment

Recently,we threw in the towel on Shichida Method classes.

I’m not going to say whether this is a good programme or not, because frankly, I think half a year wasn’t quite long enough for us to judge.

We just decided it wasn’t quite so suitable for Little Foot and we called it quits in Dec. Much to the relief of Papa Long, who usually attends the classes with her.

Why? We think it wasn’t the best programme for her, despite some of the rave reviews. She was simply not interested and hardly participated willingly unless there were songs involved. We think she needs more time and space to enjoy life, and well, frankly, the real reason? We too were getting burntout from waking up on a Saturday to run to class with her.

Some time ago, my colleagues gave me the “you kiasu mama!” look when I told them Little Foot has classes 7 days a week. So I explained, myself. She’s in childcare during weekdays, and we have a 1-hour Shichida lesson on Saturday mornings (signed up when she was 3 months old, but only enrolled when she was about 19 months after several admin hiccups on their end). And she has her favourite Kindermusik lessons on Sundays, which we actually stopped for awhile, but brought her back when we saw how her face would light up whenever she heard the music from those classes. She still enjoys them as much as she enjoys going to the playgrounds.

Eventually, Mummy and Papa burnt-out before the little lady did.

She had boundless energy, but she didn’t enjoy the way learning was conducted in the Shichida programme. We also didn’t like that while one parent went in and tried to learn the methods to replicate at home (which we hardly had time to, since she’s in school for a full day), the other (usually Mummy) was loitering at Toa Payoh Hub eating roti prata or kaya toast or ran around trying to do some errands to kill time in that hour.

On hindsight, as first time parents, we (mainly Mummy actually) was rather a tad too ambitious.

I wanted to give my daughter the gift of a photographic memory, a gift of being able to grasp things easily. Which should make learning a breeze. And I thought I got it right. Wrong.

The end came when I almost hyperventilated watching the flashcards when I sat in for one of the later classes (because there was a change of teacher). In my mind, I was asking myself, “what in the world am I doing to my 20+mth old baby?!”

There’s a full road ahead for learning. Why make a toddler sit in a class and get bombarded by flashcards and velcro-ed activities? If it created anxiety for me, what does it do for a toddler? No wonder she was always exhausted after that hour and would crash out, with a frown on her face in her sleep.

And so finally, I admitted, it was time to leave the stress to another time, I’ve had enough. Let’s go get some fresh air, go learn to live like a human being, look at the clouds and watch the planes fly by. Breath the air, and marvel at the stars. Visit a farm, feed some animals and plant some plants. 


No hard feelings to other Shichida parents. It works for you, it didn’t for us. And I think as adults, we should just admit it and cut losses when we realise something doesn’t quite seem to be a good fit.

For now, we will let the world be the weekend tutor, and just retain the fun music sessions for her.

Ice cream anyone?

My little big girl

alittlefootprint Leave a comment

Quick post before I go off to sleep. 

20 Dec 2016. Little Foot officially promoted to N1 class. No longer in the babies class. 

I have mixed feelings… so proud of her for all that she had achieved in the last 5 months since she enrolled in the school. A little sad that I sent a baby to school and find that she has morphed into a toddler who speaks in short complete sentences, insists on putting on her owj shoes, disallows everyone from taking what she deem not to be theirs, who quizzes me “is that Papa’s car?”, and who informs me with great character  (read big tantrums) if she is displeased.
She sings on the way to school a lot these days, even though she does the customary clingy baby moves once we alight from Papa’s car. 

More mixed feelings when I picked her up during my lunchtime to find smaller toddlers in their own clothing walking unsteadily /being carried out of the school by their parents/grandparents. The adults told me they were there for a trial class, guess they wanted to see if it was what they wanted. I’m reminded that her teachers are no longer the same. She is yet again thrown to the winds of change.  

I’m reminded repeatedly that Little Foot is no longer a baby. Not yet 25 months, but like it or not, she has to progress yearly with those born in the same year. Even if she could be 11 mths younger. Didn’t we just blow out the two candles on the cake a couple of weeks ago?

Dear Little Foot, I know you can hold your own in  a world where you will have to first play catch-up, but then things will even out with time. In a world where you will be thrown out of your comfort zone regularly. Strangers have marveled at how well you can speak… they can make out the songs you sing and figure out the consonants you are not able to pronounce yet. And you have shown me that you are a survivor many times over (I still recall how you replied me when I asked you if your classmate who suddenly turned into a biter managed to take a chomp at you and you replied me very matter of factly that “E beat T!” Oops, I guess you managed to fend your itchy gums friend off!). Your teachers too have told me how impressive you have been, catching up with your classmates.

Always  baby in my eyes… and still leaving me to wonder when the day will come when you stop needing me to fall asleep with you while you comfort latch.

Always my baby no matter how tall you have grown. 

Always a baby even if one day you no longer need me to carry you from the car to the class. 

Hope the new class will be as fun and exciting for you! Let’s stay positive! 

A photo taken over the weekend. A Cape for my little superheroine!

 

My little merlion… and the mother who is not in control

alittlefootprint 2 Comments

We had an eventful weekend… plenty of activities lined up for Little Foot. And four puke sessions. 

Unfortunately for our poor baby pie, she was bloated since Friday and ended up vomiting 3 times on Saturday and once on Sunday. 

Somehow beyond the projectile sessions, she seemed completely fine and was her usual active and inquisitive self.  

Merlion #1 – 7early8early

First thing in the morning, she asked for milk when she woke up late ( Yay! It’s public holiday so we get to sleep late!!). Shortly after finishing her 120ml, half of that came out onto the mattress.  

After bath, she was fine…and restless. So we went to view the slide a neighbour put up for sale and brought it home.  She had about 20 rounds on it immediately. 


Merlion #2 – most memorable award

After an outing to Punggol settlement and a play session at BFF’s  place, we headed out in 2 cars to Ikea Tampines. Little Foot had been drinking green tea from the Hello Kitty Bottle, when the car was reversing… she suddenly made that oh-so-familar  face. Next thing we knew… she created a projectile inside the car….complete mayhem! Papa hurriedly got to us and carried her out where she vomited more. The seat and carpet inside our swanky new car…and my pants were the collateral damage. So we managed to clean our crying toddler up first. And parked her in the car boot while we waited for my bro and family to swing back to his house to get me spare pants. And waited for Papa to get some water  to try to clean the car. Luckily she was happily self-entertained by the 2 plastic bottles. 


Merlion #3 – silent in her sleep

We gave her very light dinner at Ikea. And when she got home she went to sleep after a bath. In her sleep near midnight… she suddenly turned to her side and puked. Without warning! 

This time I’m so worried… really wondering what’s wrong with her tummy. Nevermind…  we went to sleep after washing her up. Its not like going to KKH to queue up would make her feel better.  Let her sleep. 

Merlion #4 – and we thought it was over

Sunday. Bright and early we went for a birthday party…  cheerful baby was all ready to play! I pretty much put Saturday’s vomit sessions behind me. 

The party  was good…she won herself a sticker tattoo at one of the party games, played a lot in Cool de sac and then ended with a nice stars body painting done.  


Went to my mum’s place with a balloon in her hand…. she had milk lying down on the bed together with Kylie. Done, got up and out to look for Papa… next thing I knew, I heard the shout that she’s puked again. 

Didn’t dare feed her dinner…. gave her a few mouthful of oats. And then I nursed her to sleep.  

What a weekend…. 

What didn’t help was all the “wise words”…

The Papa had to guilt trip me about her diet. Ya… my fault that no one cooked her lunch on Saturday before we went out. He had all these “don’t give her this…. don’t give her that”… but she had to eat something right??

My fault that we go to some eating place and there’s no healthy kids meal (name me a place that does). And she ends up eating the ice cream when I didn’t ask for a float. 

As to why even her daily home food is too flavourful and like adult food…  also my fault? Maybe I’ve left it too free rein? I don’t know when it started, but her food became like our food…. I didn’t say retire the blender. I didn’t say add salt or soy sauce….c’mon, I was the crazy OCD mama who didn’t want her to touch any sugar in her first year! Of course the food in school doesn’t really help too, since it’s quite tasty. Foodie Little Foot is starting to be fussy now about tastes…it has disturbed me a little but I’ve kept quiet after my “suggestions” don’t seem to register in anyone’s head. And frankly I’m too tired with work and giving her all my free time to be a hawk. Some days I give her the ice cream so it buys me time to eat my dinner, since no one wanna help me there.

I’m the mother…I think I’m entitled to offer her an ice cream or a pack of chocolate milk. Maybe that gave everyone else around me the wrong signals that they can do it freely too. I can’t control what I’m not around to control. Or maybe I’ve closed one eye for too long. 

And sometimes I wonder why nag at me only… he keeps quiet and not tell our helper himself if he’s not happy about how she handles certain things. 

So Little Foot will now need to go into “rehab” back to healthy baby food…. Oh yah, I say only lor… Will anyone listen?  He say lor…will he do the disciplining and get her to follow his dream regime? Or I’m just the person who gets drenched in puke, pat her back to sleep throughout fitful nights and still get to hear the incessant chants of “you let her eat this eat that….”, and the person who has to sort everything out.  Oh yah… me. Just me. 

Why? Because I’m the mother. And anything happens, it’s my fault by default. Nevermind that I feel the most heartache when I have to watch her in her fitful sleep the whole weekend and I didn’t even sleep well. That’s the way the world works. 

Sad that I feel like I’m not in control and yet I get to bear the brunt. 
I guess when the little one is sick… tempers fly and fingers are quick to point at each other. You judge me, I have many things to say about your behaviour too. And we can start this crazy war…but I’m tired and I really just want to sort this out. I want to sort out many things, yet I am a lone ranger here. Obviously when I have a toddler trying to get a go at me and yanking at my top while I try to eat some dinner tonight and the father just sits back and half-heartedly act like he’s even stopping her, I don’t feel like I’m getting much help here. And everyday it is the same….every meal of mine is spent fending off the little one. While everyone pretends they are temporarily deaf and blinded. Some days I want to smash my dinner plate really. Some days I wish I could just eat outside so my food can actually go down the right tunnels and not cause me to also want to throw up from gastric pain. 
Just for once, I wonder what really went wrong. Maybe my general uselessness domestically is the problem. Or maybe I don’t make myself clear enough. 

Times like this, I  try to find strength by focusing on my Little Foot. 

I can do better.  I must do better.  

Or at least die trying to do better.