New Low

I’ve officially hit a new low in life when I found myself scraping the mould off my two-day-old Gardenia focaccia. And yes, I slapped two pieces of ham on it and ate it.

We shall see if I suffer from food poisoning.

Just when I thought my life couldn’t possibly get worse, it just does. In the most amazingly fucked up ways.


Older and jader.

I’m pretty sure age has caught up with me, because things that used to seem SO IMPORTANT are now like… pffffft.

The fancy weddings that last only a night, its memories though may endure a lifetime yet brings nothing more to a marriage except its hefty bill.

True, I might still wish for a lavish wedding if I was rich enough… But nah, I’d rather have that money for a trip around (half) the world and a shitload of fancy things. :mrgreen:

If these young ‘uns are gonna have kids, they probably have no idea what’s coming for the rest of their lives… *evil chuckles*

Hopefully one day I will see through “much needed vacations” for what little significance they really hold. Meanwhile, I’ll just have to learn to make the best out of the 3D2N Legoland trip that the kids so enthusiastically paid for. (Expenses excluded, of course.) But w00t my kids are bringing me on a vacation!


A not-so-happy birthday to me. The boys nearly toppled the entire fridge yesterday.

Fortunately Josh was strong enough to push the fridge back in place, but it couldn’t prevent all the food from falling out. Sigh. Naturally I went berserk and got all ape-shit on them. On the bright side, no one was hurt (except the eggs that were broken).

There are no plans for any celebration of any sort. Not sure if there will even be a cake, since there has been no talk of it.  Everyone has gone on their usual routine, and so must I. So when asked about my birthday plans for this “special day”, I have simply been telling everyone this is what I’m going to do:

  • clean the floor
  • do the laundry
  • take care of Lisa
  • pick up Josh at 1pm
  • pick up Kee at 5.30pm

Yup. Those are my grand plans for turning 31. Basically the same shit that I do every weekday. Nothing special about today at all except legally I am now 31.

2014 has been an awful year so far. Hopefully since everything has pretty much been rock bottom, the only way left now is to UP. *fingers crossed*


One day I might write a book…

And title it “Married to a Pathological Liar”…

Barely a month into 2014, and already it has delivered its first major bomb of the usual “promise made just to be broken”.

I need more freedom to achieve my own financial independence, so I need not rely – let alone trust – a man with my own happiness. I’m going to take that trip to Disneyland on my own. No, it’s not going to be the same, but it beats waiting around for it to happen. Especially when I’m waiting for it to come from someone who has repeatedly lied so many times over.

Screw romance. I’d rather fly solo.


Lisa and I have a morning routine of making a bottle of formula milk together. And recently it’s somehow turned into a calling for the devil…

Me: How many spoons of milk powder?
Lisa: Six!
Me: One…
Lisa: One…
Me: Two…
Lisa: Two…
Me: Three…
Lisa: Six…
Me: Four…
Lisa: Six!
Me: Five…
Lisa: Six! Six!
Me: Six! Last one!
Lisa: Yay! SIX SIX SIX! Now shake shake. *mimics bottle shaking*

*sigh* Guess someone really needs to not get ahead of herself at counting.



I had an enjoyable weekend getaway with the bestie, where we ate and shopped. (She shopped a lot more.)

But unfortunately I came down with some bug that has induced a cough and funny nose, So the husband made 鸡丝鲍贝粥 for me while I vegetated and spent time with the kids. Then I slept 12 hours straight from 7pm to 7am. 😆

After sending the boys off to school, I slept another 4 hours.

And then after noticing how much dust had collected on the floors over the weekend, I asked Josh if I should be cleaning house. He said: “But you’re not feeling well! Maybe tomorrow lah.”

Life is so kind to me.


Whoever came up with the term “stay at home mom” certainly knew what the hell he/she was saying. As a caregiver of your own children, you really do have to stay at home a lot – either due to commitments or tiredness – and in my case, it seems almost every attempt to be out without children will somehow get botched by something. Or rather, someone.

One or more of the kids will develop some sort of condition which will require me to be around; causing the need to cancel whatever prior appointment I’ve made to escape being “just a mom” for a few hours.

Sometimes I really wonder if there’s ever an end to this.

Which makes me wonder too: Did my mother refuse to be my caregiver because she did not want “stay at home” and be chained down?

This is possibly the worst occupation a woman could choose: No renumeration, no benefits and often not even a word of thanks. I just hope it will pay off eventually like the way it is starting to with Joshua.

God please grant me the virtue of wisdom and patience.


God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.


When given a chance at redemption, he calls me two hours later announcing that he’s got nothing for me.

If such little effort is going to be put in, then maybe he should have:
a) not screwed up in the first place
b) not accepted the shot at redemption and immediately accept any punishment mete out
c) really just NOT screw up in the first place

I really wonder how it can even be humanely possible for me to remain hopeful when he’s proven time and again to be so hopeless. Even when it happens on pretty much a daily basis. (Definitely not exaggerating here.)

Maybe I’m just stupidly naive even beyond my own imagination.


Lisa’s idiosyncrasies

At three weeks old, this is basically what we’ve caught on:

  • Likes being warm to the point that we constantly mistaken her for having fever. We’re talking about windows closed, fan off, wearing long sleeves and pants, and still wanting to be wrapped up in a blanket!
  • She only sleeps well in 2 positions: tummy down in her cot (the small crib in our bedroom somehow doesn’t pass her test) or within a crevice “dug out” in the beanbag. The beanbag works best during the day. Oh, and she only likes to sleep in her room.
  • Must be held for another 10 to 15 minutes after she’s done nursing. Regardless whether she’s awake or asleep, if you try to put her down to sleep immediately after a feed, the likelihood of her waking up within 15 minutes is as high as 80%. 
  • Hates being dirty. HATE. She will scream as if someone just broke her arm.
  • Ironically, she also hates being undressed but loves warm water baths. But as expected, starts screaming the moment she leaves the tub.
So far she behaves nothing like her brothers when they were newborns, but I think we’re slowly getting the hang of it. 


I deleted the email I was composing, staring blankly at the words “undo discard” – an option Gmail so kindly offered me to change my mind for a second chance.

Problem was, I realise I don’t want another shot at this; I’m done giving chances.

You always know you’re done when you stop feeling anything. Emotions drained to the bone; left for dead. What a pity all that love wasn’t fed to a more worthy cause though.

Time to plan the “funeral”.