Beauty in Chaos

End of the year, and *facepalm* can’t believe my last post was in June!

But if I were to fill in the gap between June to December, let me tell you it’s filled with boring routine mumster, mid-life stories.

I think life have become pretty standard (ZzzZzzzZz): Come back from office, pick cheeky-boo Daniel up from the nanny’s, stuck in traffic, rendam the vegetables, defrost the meat, feed Daniel his dinner porridge while watching TVB drama, wash him up, cook the rice and cuts up the dishes while watching my son delightfully open-close-open-close-open-close the washing machine before pressing on all the buttons on the (read: destroying), and many times goes inside the washing machine to see if papa’s sock or mum’s panties still stuck in the roof (my machine is side-loading). Then, I feed my boy some fruits puree, read him some fire engine and old Macdonald’s farm animals, while letting him watch some BabyTV (Billy Bam Bam is my son’s favourite). When papa’s back, I will dump my son to him, run straight to the kitchen to cook a bunch of chinese delicious (subjective) cuisine for 2 pax.

His favourite grand-uncle and grand-aunty aka babysitter’s family.

I will go upstairs and get a shower while my son watches me happily playing peekaboo at the bathroom door with his naked mama. Daniel will be saying “chak, chak“, squinting his eye signaling (hurrying) me for a feedback of chakkks, smiling widely. He dare not go into the bathroom (kena scold before, and he knows he shouldn’t), but will surely cry if  I had to have a peekaboo intermittent because you tell me lahh how to chakkk with shampoo on my face ok. He absolutely hates peekaboo intermittent, and I must do this chak-chak-chak thingy in my whole 10 min in the shower. Papa will be left alone at the kitchen doing all the dirty dishes and then makes his fruits/vege juice with the juicer. Then, when my son sleeps at exacly 9.30pm, I will handwash all his clothes. If you are asking, yes, I still handwash my baby’s clothes every damn blardy night since he was born. I can be such an OCD piece of shit sometimes.


As a mum, I don’t know how to compare (btw, we shouldn’t compare our kids), but Daniel is definitely a textbook baby. Meaning, his developmental milestones are exactly as what you google month-after-month in BabyCentre or WebMD. He is quite predictable and easy to take care! <–my mum claimed, not me.

He has been speaking a few words which are meaningful – put, take, give, “tit tit tit” when he holds the Astro remote controls and points it to the tv, “mai” (Hokkien for ‘No’), “puyaoo” (<–Mandarin for ‘No’), “yallooooo” when he puts the phone to his ears, “cat-cat” when he sees a cat in the book, or real cat. “Nennen”&”Mam mam”, if he wants milk/food and “Papa” are his first ever words. He still can’t say “mummy” yet to his kiasu mummy although he’s with me all the time, manja and playing with me. Sux wei. And of course, he has been getting more and more talkative bablebablellele babbles baa booo goo gaga aiyooh sumida all day, and I believe my son was a Korean guy reincarnate.

He is already holding his own milk bottle himself to drink, and I swear I was delighted because less one task for the parents with an independent child. LOL! Can marry him off already lah. Can. Hahaha.

After work, I try to take him to the playground nearby.

After 14 months, I realised how my son has changed me. I am born like this: over-dominating, big headed career woman, ever the high achiever at whatever I try/do even though I am not talented in it, reads 4 books a month, perfectionist-bitch, and quite kiasu. But when my son is born (also when I met my husband), I find it easier to let go of certain things. I find it easier to let go of perfection. I let people take care of my son and close one-eye in many things, while I catch a movie alone, go for a facial, takes 1 year to finish 3 books, not making the bed, living in a untidy hall, bedroom, etc. This is because I don’t want to be trapped in the cycle of woman-doing-every-thing-in-the-house-and-takes-care-of-children-too-and-earns-a-bunch-of-salary-back-home. I don’t want to do everything for the household or my family. And want people to help me. I allow my hubby to help me out in anything he can (no matter what tasks), not caring about the outcome, let my son fall down and bump his head, let my son eat hair, food he picked up from the floor, let my son eat junk food and kacang puteh, loads of sugary vitagen (vitagen keeps him quiet in the car and when I watch TVB drama), let my floor be dusty for a week, forgot to wash the vegetable and cook it, simply cut the vege, the eggs are hangus, the meat is hancur, Really, nevermind, Because I feel quite happy being imperfect!


His coconut hair-do. It makes him look cute, but I cut the unruly hair off to be ready for CNY.

He can be quite a good boy. Often listens to us and afraid of scolding. A bit sensitive (like Papa)

Going kai-kai is his favourite past time.

He loves flipping books, but also enjoys his BabyTV and unexpectedly, loves to watch Berita (the RTM version)

Sorry, but bash me all you want you breastfeeding advocates, but the KEY to my current happiness was: Stop breastfeeding. There!

Gosh, I felt so liberated once I stopped bf because I hate that my son keep latching to me and I have absolutely no farking time to do any farking thing. I honestly hate the pumping regime both at home and at work, and I can’t focus on my work or meetings. When I want to do some work/experiment, suddenly I need to pump. Soooo mah fun! After 6 months of essential breastfeeding, and when my son seemed to love solids more than breasts, I was extremely happy to quit the pump and that fugly bra. He was unhappy too because he kept getting scolded for biting my boob tits when he latches (6 months already got 4 teeth ok). He frustrated, I also frustrated. Without breastfeeding, Papa also get to play a role in feeding his son, and at least this empowers the man to hold the feeding bottle and do the feeding. More than 3/4 of Daniel’s feeding now is Papa’s job. And I have sooo much time after that. Sleeping also felt sooo good for 8 months already. I wake up a happier person each morning because I have good sleep every night with my son sleeping through without waking up hungry. I don’t like that feeding goes exclusively to the mother. Don’t like. Period. Btw, my son holds the feeding bottle himself and feeds all 7 ounces already! Both papa and mummy are proud of his independence, plans to marry him off soon). 😛

Semakin kaypoh

Fell from the bed and got his first manhood bruise.

His favourite Thor hammer. He fought well <-bruises everywhere

Truth: I wished I was a high-milk-supply-mum, so then I can pump like 100 bottles a day and leave them to the dad/nanny to feed. But obviously I am not. I am a low-supply-kais-pagi-makan-pagi milk supply mum and my son is a big eater and cries every time after breastmilk because still so hungry, so that’s why it’s not conducive for me to continue breastfeeding. Again, it’s all in the mind(!), and when I purportedly tell myself that I hated breastfeeding cause it wasted a lot of my goddamn time, milk definitely didn’t come anymore (yay! no more leaky breast). However, when I wanted to quit, I went to upset to depression because people that idk (the internet, forums) trying to throw such formula milk mums down as a “bad mums”. Perfectionist, high-achiever you may think I am, but this is one thing I am willing to give up for the love of MYSELF. No breast milk after 6 months, but my son is still alive and kicking and cuter than ever….but that is because I have great genes, kan….

Manja boy. Always golek around me, hug and kisses me frequently. I miss him daily when I am work.

Well, blink blink eye, it’s Christmas:

My 5-foot Christmas tree is up, my son dare not touch it after I warned him once only. Good dog boy. He was such a menace initially, but now will just say out loud: “WAHHHHhhhhHH” if I point him to any Christmas tree in the mall or at home, and absolutely dare not touch any ornaments on our tree. Because perfectionist mummy here doesn’t like heterogeneous placing of ornaments; the OCD me loves exact spatial placing of ornaments and symmetry. 😛

This year 2016 is awesome in many ways. I am optimistic about next year: career-wise: I hope the crude oil price will bounce up further; the ringgit will strengthen so that I can go more overseas holiday with my two boys, and I hope that my family and friends will be happier and achieve what they aim for. And lose weight.

Happy holidays and Happy New Year!


Doing naughty cheek face to his cousin, Amanda.

Love you both!


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