Baby, just drink it!

A FIRST taste of formula.

It took me six and a half months to get to this stage.

This is a bittersweet moment: Weaning has begun.

We are on a two-week programme to ELMINATE the breast.

First step: Formula.

After much research (won't go into it), I decided on Mead Johnson's Enfapro A+.

But of course the challenge still remains how to get the formula down her throat coz she still abhors the bottle...

Here is Liz giving her the bottle at 9am this morning. It is supposed to help if someone else gives her the bottle coz then she can't smell the real thang.

How effective were we?

Have a look.

Dearest Poh poh...

Socks that rock

LITTLE pixie feet.

Zoe's wearing shoes but not.

Coz they are socks!

I ordered them online from Trumpette. Many thanks to Pinny who sent them all the way from the USofA.

They are just so adorable.

I also ordered another set which look like sneakers.

Anyway, we had a little photoshoot while waiting for D to get ready for brunch today.

As you can see, the little one is getting very good at posing for the camera.

And then, one of us:

Tim Sum Grump

FEELING much better, though still Ms Grumpity, Zoe got to go out to lunch.

We met up with Aunty JL, Becks and the Ah Peks - Uncles Sonny and Richard - for tim sum.

And Zoe, as usual got a little pressie and lots of cuddles.

Being a Mom

PEOPLE have been asking, "So what's it like - Motherhood?"

You relate the struggles and the thrilling moments that each day brings. Funny stories. Trivial little details, I suppose.

When I read this email from Tiffany this morning, I realised it answered that question. Profoundly.

So here's what it's like...

Being a Mum

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family."

"We're taking a survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?" "It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations."

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.

I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable. I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been MY child?"

That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mum!" will cause her to drop a souffle or her best crystal without a moments hesitation.

I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother. Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.

That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, and not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

Please share this with a Mum that you know or all of your girlfriends who may someday be Mums. May you always have in your arms the one who is in your heart.

It isn't dengue

RELIEF.

My baby's ok.

Last friday, Z had a temperature of 38.4. Took her to Dr C's clinic first thing Saturday morning. Unfortunately, he was on leave so we had to see someone else.

Dr Replacement pronounced she had an "upper respiratory infection" and put her on antibiotics.

Instead of getting better, Z seemed to get worse.

Her fever didn't break until Tuesday afternoon. She developed an angry rash, went off her food (even her peas!) and just being generally rather grumps.

Could she be allergic to the antibiotics, we wondered, or was it something more serious?

After talking to Dr Grandpa, we stopped the antibiotics last night and made an appointment to see Dr Replacemet this morning.

Immediately, he decided to test for dengue.

He pierced her hand and squeezed out three baby vials of blood.

Poor kid was so traumatised.

D couldn't look. I was transfixed watching each drop of blood dripping into the vial. My baby's bleeding. So red. So bloody.

I think D and I were just as traumatised.

Anyway, her bloodwork came back negative for dengue but it seemed to confirm that she's got some sort of viral infection.

But she's on the mend now.

Thank God. My poor little one.


Resting... and getting well.

Kongkie dearest

EVEN when you're a mother, it's nice to to be someone's little girl.

My dad came up to keep an eye on things while D was in Jakarta last week.

Handy (excuse the pun) to have him around, especially since I was injured in a pumpkin-cutting accident last Sunday.

Holl-OWWWW-een.

Since I couldn't get the dressing wet, I wasn't able to bathe Z for more than a week. I missed our bathtime playtimes.

But I certainly didn't miss havimg to wash her bottie after she did her stinkies.

Z really loved having her Kongkie around. She bullied him into carrying her and playing on the mat all through the day.

But he was more than happy to be at her bidding. He played, he acted the horse, he fed her (most of the food ending up everywhere but in her mouth) and was awfully thrilled to be around when she uttered her first word.

Now, he's trying to teach her to say Kongkie.

First word

IT doesn't matter if you carry them for nine months, clean their poo and puke, painstakingly breastfeed them... they are always going to say Papa first.

D was away Tuesday to Friday night.

On Saturday morning, Zoe woke up and started babbling.

And then, it popped out: Papa.

Her new favourite word. She hasn't stopped Papa-ing.

So at six months, Zoe has mastered the art of melting her father's heart.


"The car keys please, Dad. And the autumn collection of Chanel."

Reflections at SIX months

DEAR Z,
You are still being breastfed.

That about sums up what I'm thinking this month.

I thought I'd be done and you would be a little independent you by now.

And I would have my body back to abuse selfishly.

But it's taking you a while to be weaned.
Yesterday, you teased me by sucking on the pacifier during the day.

It was the first time you had taken to it for an extended period of time.

Foolishly, I let myself hope that this would lead you to accepting the bottle.

But you were just playing with my mind.

You still don't like the pacifier and you still don't like the bottle.

So to get milk down your gullet, we've taken to feeding you fois gras style by pouring milk down your throat.

Twice a day you get fed in a cup. You don't like it much but you will swallow some or all (not often) of it, depending on your mood and how hungry you are.

You love your food though. There has been absolutely no problems getting you onto solids.

For lunch today, you ate 3 ounces of pureed peas, plus an ounce oat cereal with milk! Greedy guts!

Peas are your absolute fabourite. You also like green beans a lot. You will eat carrots, pumpkin and sweet potato but only when mixed into your cereal and milk.

But strangely, you don't like sweet stuff. So far you have refused - sometimes violently - all fruit.

Pear, prunes, applesauce and banana have all been greeted with utter disgust.

Life has changed for me your Mommy since you've taken to your solids.

It's like I have been set free.

I can actually go out and not worry that you will be fretful or upset because you can eat a lot and drink a little milk.

Nights have been better since you've moved onto solids.

You are sleeping for longer periods and don't need frequent nursing. You can now fall asleep without the breast... though it often entails a little crying and fussing.
You still love being attached to me. It's funny, you would rather sit quietly in a sling while I work on the computer than play with someone on a mat. Needless to say, with you growing heavier, my back in constanly protesting our very close relationship.

You and your dad have been doing so well together.
I am so happy, particularly now that I can pass you to him when you wake up at 4am or 5am.

Quality time for you and your D!

And I think your Dad is super-happy he can now do more stuff with you, like swimming!

You have met all your developmental milestones and then some.

You are flipping over front to back, back to front, left to right, right to left, like a well-trained showdog on acid. You sit up so well, though sometimes you lose balance and keel over.
You love to explore with your hands.

But the best thing really is that you are such a happy, funny baby. You have such a ready sweet smile. You laugh hilariously. You chatter incessently.
Even strangers remark on your sunny disposition. "Such a smiley baby", they say.

In the same breath, they also comment: "Your son is so cute ah!" Even when you are wearing a dress or even when you are in pink. Some people!

Well, the good thing is your hair is growing fast so there will soon be less confusion.






But before that happens, we have to get you to act a little more lady-like... my little ruggamuffin.


Love,
Mom.

First swim

DECKED out in her UV50+ top and her poo-poo stopper pants, we took her for a splash in the baby pool at RSGC.

After about five minutes, she graduated to the big people pool.

She really enjoyed herself, kicking her little tootsies and splashing with her arms.

Zoe also discovered - and liked - the taste of chlorine, thanks to her father.

Here she is taking the plunge:

P is for...

I DON'T quite know why but all the food Zoe has tried so far has started with the letter 'P'.

Peas = Pleasant

Pumpkin = Palatable

Pear = Pass

Prunes = Ptooi... then Puke

She HATES prunes.

Zoe spat it out when I first gave it to her.

I tried a couple more times in between spoonfuls of her favourite peas and because she was tricked into swallowing the icky stuff, she actually cried in protest.

So I stopped.

A couple of hours later, she puked out all her lunch.

Eight times. Three on me.

Needless to say, she has convinced me not to feed her prunes again.

Poo poo pear

FRUIT like apples and bananas can give babies constipation. Isn't that bizarre? You would have thought the opposite true.

Anyway, Zoe did four big poopoos yesterday.

But they were rather... erm... hard.

I've been holding off giving her fruit in her transition to solids coz I'd rather her eat her veggies.

I read that babies may not take to their greens if you give them the sweet stuff first.

But now, to battle constipation... it's time for some pear.

Strangely, she didn't love it.

A five-day weekend

A VERY long weekend filled with little outings.

A recurring theme: Food and shopping malls.

No wonder the little thing is all puckered out.

Here she is on her father's lap at a champagne brunch on Sunday.

After all the bubbly, D and I felt just like she looks!

On Monday, we headed to The Curve where we pigged out on burgers at TGIFriday. Yumz.

The haze was pretty bad so we tried to stay indoors.

Still, Zoe managed to pick up a frog in her throat.

Her voice is all raspy and scratchy.

Poor little thing. It's quite cute when she tries to talk, her voice is all low and husky.

We had a party of sorts on Saturday and we also managed to meet up with some friends.

Needless to say, Zoe got lots of attention and cuddles.

And you can tell she relished every second of it!

Peas N Pumpkin

AFTER three days of peas, Zoe got to try something a little sweeter.

But suprisingly, she liked the green gunk better.

The high(cost)chair

THIS is Zoe's first meal at a restaurant.

B.Y.O.

She couldn't fit in the highchair so she had to eat in her pram.

A little but messy but it worked.

It was really fun taking her out for a meal. She's now like part of the dining party.

"Table for three, please."

* * *


Realising the pressing need for a highchair, we picked up the TrippTrap by Stokke, the same makers of her pram.

It sure looks good, doesn't it?

And the best part is Zoe just loves it.

But here's the funny part: Zoe actually needs a highchair with tray-table at this stage.

The TrippTrap encourages children to eat at the dining table but Zoe is just super messy now and her little arms can't quite reach for things on the table yet.

So we went to Ikea to buy a cheapo dirty-it-as-much-as-you-want version. It cost about one fifteenth of TrippTrap.

And Zoe just adores the Ikea version too!

Hmm... looks like if we had visited Ikea first, we could have saved ourselves a few bucks.

Ferberizing

SLEEP training started on Monday night.

It took her one hour of pretty major crying before she finally fell asleep.

As per Ferber's instructions, I went in every five minutes to try to reassure her.

It was hard. The wailing. Not picking her up.

Each time I went in, she would stop crying. Her eyes would light up as soon as she saw me.

Then after a few pats and a kiss, she knew I was about to leave the room and she looked at me with such pain and sorrow.

Ow.

Short term pain for long term gain, I told myself.

Last night was day two in the sleep training schedule.

Ferber says to increase the time away from her. So I went in every ten minutes.

Almost an hour into it, I went in on schedule and discovered that she had puked.

Poor baby cried till she vomited.

That was the of Ferber.

* * *

Weight: 7.55kg
Length: 69cm

Zoe went to see Dr C today for her 5 month jabs. She got three different types. But she was super brave and only whimpered after the last one.

I discussed sleep training with Dr C. He said to be consistent and that if I were serious in wanting her to learn how to put herself to sleep then I'd just have to stick with the programme. He gave me a smirk and said: "It's a battle of wills. You'll just have to see who is stronger: You or her."

Well, tonight there was no Ferberizing. After all, she did have the trauma of injections to cope with.

Sigh.

Maybe she is the stronger one after all.

Week 24: Introduction to solids

TASTY!

That was the general reaction to the organic brown rice cereal I fed her.

To start off, the recipe called for a tablespoon of cereal mixed with four tablespoons of boob juice.

The first spoonful was met with puzzlement.

But after a few more, she decided she liked it.

When she started lapping it up, I let Liz have a go just so Zoe gets used to other people feeding her too.

Don't want to make the same mistake as with the bottle!

Mmmm for MummMumm.

Breathing in Haze

Q: HOW well did Zoe behave on the plane?

A: I got to watch The Break Up and The Devil Wears Prada.

My angel.

* * *

So we had a flash of a weekend in Singapore.

Didn't do much coz Mopes was a little unsettled after the travelling. And of course, the haze was pretty crap so we didn't leave the house much.

Sadly, I missed the Be Fabulous Moet party where I was planning to catch up with everyone.

Instead, we elegantly sipped wine at 4pm on Sunday before heading back to KL.

Zoe tagged along for a little while and got lots of cuddles from:

Uncle Gila

Aunty Smell

and Aunty Charles

Better be home soon

OUR last day was rather hectic with last minute chores, some stuff with the foggies and packing.

Our collective baggage allowance is 50kg but we ended up with about 65kg. Plus a pram.

I didn't even shop.

Amazing the amount of stuff a baby needs.

Anyway I had a wonderful holiday and Mopes enjoyed breathing super fresh air for a month.

The foggies are staying on till Tuesday to clean up after us. Haha.

I think they'll sorely miss Zoe's baby talk but not me nagging them to BE QUIET!

Now back to the haze...

G'bye Perth!

A Mother's Love blossoms

A DAY before we leave, the first bloom.