Frogs and snails, and puppy dogs' tails...

Girly Heidi

2012-01-20T15:42:00.002+08:00

Never thought that the characteristics of being a girl would show through so early and so tellingly at so young a age!

What set her apart from her brothers:

1. The first time I put socks on her, she refused to let me take them off, and that's even before she knew socks = going out.

2. She would go quiet and compliant when I do something to her hair - comb, put pins / hair bands on, put hats on. Except cutting it.

3. She pasted a sticker on her blouse. When I tore it off and gave it back to her a day later, she pasted it back to her blouse again.

4. She is generally more watchful and less rowdy (except when hungry or greedy) than her brothers.

When They Are Amusing

2012-01-11T12:50:00.007+08:00

Ethan
His first homework was to colour a thank-you note with a bear picture for his buddy in primary school. At night, he was already quite tired so I told him he could do it the next day. "And if you wake up earlier than us, you can always colour this in the morning," said I. "Of course I'll wake up earlier than you all." was his truer-than-truth, matter-of-fact-cum-a-little exasperated (at such lazy parents?) reply.

Jethro
Jethro's favourite songs these days are "造飞机" (with full body actions):

造飞机造飞机来到青草地.

蹲下来蹲下来我做推进器.

蹲下去蹲下去我做飞机翼.

弯着腰弯着腰飞机做的奇.

飞上去飞上去飞到白云里.

"小小兵" (started the day he got a gun key chain from Uncle Alvin):

小小兵,小小兵,我是小小兵,
年纪小胆量好,常常练兵操,
有敌人来犯我,向他开抢炮,
乒乒乒乓乓乓,乒乒乒乓乓乓,
向前冲,向前冲,敌人不放松,
哒哒哒地,地哒哒哒地哒哒.
嗒嗒嗒滴,滴嗒嗒嗒滴嗒嗒

and a new song that he seemed to learn from the child care centre. That morning, while saying bye-bye, he was quite teary and refused to let Jianming go. The same evening, when we went to my parent-in-laws' place for dinner, he kept singing this song over and over to us (an almost tune-less song that sounded like something the teacher improvised?) while doing some frilly hand actions (most likely improvised!):

我爱爸爸，我爱妈妈。
爸爸做工，妈妈上班。
哗啦啦啦啦，
哗啦啦啦啦，
哗啦啦啦啦，
哗啦啦啦啦啦。

Coupled with his unclear diction (the last was okay, since the wordings are very simple - further evidence that the teacher made it up!), it's hilarious.

Heidi
The teachers at the infant care centre told me Heidi would kiss you if you asked her to. Among the many "kiss kiss mommy" chants by me, there's just this once when it actually happened - she put her face near mine in a kissing pose. Oh, such small gesture, such great joy! But I must hasten to add that it has only happened once so far. Most of the time, she would turn her head away in a shy or quit-bothering-me! manner - I think it's more of the latter.

The Toddler in You

2012-01-05T15:20:00.003+08:00

That day, when you first stepped into your Primary School, your first day as a no-more-pre-school kid, I felt a rush of nostalgia. A few days before, I had seen you march around the flat like a soldier, putting your hand to your forehead and saying "Yes, Sir!". I was suddenly transported to the first few months in Scotland, when we played alot of marching up and down to the tune of "The Grand Old Duke of Yoke". There was a shadow of the toddling you in there. And I wished I had not been scolding you so much these past few months - on your attention span, on your whining, on your unwillingness to help out around the house, on your seeming callousness after you accidentally knocked your sister to the floor, on your dilly-dallying. Oh, on so many things we thought you should be outgrowing. But in actual fact, you are still a child.

Ethan, the days ahead may be exciting and a little overwhelming for you. You are likely going to face some set backs, and some wonderful adventures and discoveries too. I see your life as an individual person, being on your own, beginning. And I hope you'll look forward to the days ahead, to the opportunities abound for growth and learning and gaining more and more independence. As for me, I'm just going to miss those younger days more and more, the carefree and almost trouble-free childhood that you had, those long walks that we did together in Edinburgh, the long afternoon sun and hours spent on those activity books with a sleeping Jethro. Which you have forgotten, and I won't ever.

Pink is the New Black

2012-01-05T15:19:00.002+08:00

I am Heidi-ised when I actually bought a pair of pink slippers ... for myself.

A Year On

2011-12-22T11:50:00.001+08:00

It's been a year since Heidi's birth. 12 months and I have not blogged much about this baby. Maybe on today, I should write something before she grows out of being a baby.

Heidi, in a way, has a number of things that she surpasses her brothers in and yet a number of things that worry us like the brothers never worried us before.

She was born the biggest of the 3, at 3.86 kg and 52cm. And she just keeps growing. She could turn over earliest, crawl earliest, stand earliest and walk earliest. What I saw as a tremendous struggle in Jethro and a little in Ethan did not seem to come across as such to her. She 'spider crawled' most of the time, getting from one point to another quickly. She had started to walk a few steps at 10.5 months old, then the next day perhaps decided she was not quite ready for it and stopped trying for awhile. Then around her 11th month, she started her walking again, this time steadier and more at ease. She could wave goodbye more readily than her brothers too.

But oh, the other stuff. Her eczema, her postural club feet, her hearing test failing, her pseudosquint (which set me worrying 'what if it's not just a pseudosquint but something more permanent?'), her inconsolable cries. And I am not even talking about the conjunctivities she had since she was born and requiring two trips to the doctors to cure, her small-sized teeth, her relative reticence and other bits and pieces that I would have accepted as all part of the bundle that came with the baby had she not had the more unique problems.

I thought Jethro had also enjoyed his brother's company more than Heidi does her brothers'. But maybe I speak too early. I should wait for a couple of months more. Ethan and Jethro were always smiling, seeming to enjoy themselves rather well, especially in areas where they would vex the adults (Jethro particularly so). Heidi appeared to be less so, frown more, such that up to now, I have very little to write about her. Perhaps it also had to do with the fact that I am working now. Perhaps it's also something to do with the differences between boys and girls. Girls do seem more serious, less wild and more shy at enjoying themselves whole-heartedly.

How is Heidi going to be like? I have re-read my blogs about Jethro's monthly report and found that in large parts, they are very much similar. Although Heidi's certainly more mobile, Jethro did not seem hampered by his slower physical development. His curiosity was that great, his presence that profound. His awareness of his surroundings seemed the keenest of the three.

I suppose my Heidi won't grow up to be a beauty, and she probably won't wear well the majority of the pretty girls' clothes that can be found in every children's wear shop (though I will probably still be tempted to get some of those pretty clothes for her and she will always be beautiful to me). But I hope she can transcend the superficial looks and develop her inner self, that soul which could be beautiful and strong and kind and loving and that mind that could be powerful and clever and perceptive. This is my wish for her, now I only hope I don't go and thwart my own wish through my own unwise methods of bringing up children.

Another Hospital Visit

2011-10-12T17:45:00.001+08:00

So now it's Heidi's turn to be hospitalized. There is no escaping the fact that all three must, at one time or another, stay in the hospital for reasons other than their being born.

It happened on Friday. Well, actually, it happened one or two weeks before that, I should say. She had these big round red spots on her body, especially the arms and legs, that faded in a day or two, but would be replaced by new ones. It freaked out the care givers at the Infant Care, but what freaked them out further were those that appeared on Thursday. It prompted them to make a call to inform me at work: She's got these red patches on her face. The next day, the red patches had spread such that her face, from the eyelids down, was an even red and slightly bloated. Her eye lids looked puffy. Yes, she does not have eyes like dishes to begin with, but I was quite sure they weren't these small either.

Coupled with a mild temperature, the doctor at the polyclinic (whom I had to see in isolation as the nurses were afraid what she got would be contagious) referred me to A&E. So off I went, after giving her her breakfast cereals at home. The A&E doctor was also cautious. After asking me quite closely about her medicine and food intake, and finding nothing that could be a possible allergen, she recommended that Heidi be warded, to be seen by more specialised doctor. And so it began.

I should say I did not particularly enjoy it. The only good thing was it kept me away from the household chores, so I really could not make myself busy on them. I used the hospital's patient clothes for Heidi. They were a little large, but she looked so active I couldn't feel sad at all seeing her in them. I wanted to take a particular picture of her with one fore arm leaning on the cot bars, standing up so that her head was above the barriers, and her rashes sort of fading but not quite, in the baggy clothes. She looked so grown up then, like an idler leaning forward against a fence in a field. But alas, I had no camera with me. So anyway, I need not wash any clothes of hers. As for me, as Heidi would not let me out of sight, I could only do a quick wash when my parents came with Jianming bringing a change of clothes for me on the evening of day 2.

As the environment was new, she was excited, couldn't sleep well, and didn't want anybody else to carry her. Oh, the nurses were not required to take care of this patient. Mummy took care of everything, even the administering of medicine (just for the runny nose and phlegm). I went to the toilet once when I could not bear it anymore, and I could hear her cries as the hospital staff tried their best to sooth her and carry her.

There wasn't any place for Heidi to crawl or toy to play with. I asked a nurse where I could bring her to play. She pointed to the back of the ward helpfully. Upon reaching it, I found it's a dismal space of some children's table and chairs, one tattered toy that exercised your dexterity by making you move beads along some rods (the kind hospitals and clinics everywhere seem very fond of displaying as THE toy for bored kids to play with, and which were seldom touched by them) and a television that was always switched on, at Channel 8, watched by usually an old lady or a bored adult, but seldom the kids.

So poor Heidi had only the cot to move in, since she could not walk yet, and I could not condescend to let her crawl on the floor. Day 2 morning, a guy came, bringing some toys and said he wanted to guess her age by assessing her development milestones. Heidi pounced on the toys like someone deprived. And I too, was eyeing his toys even before he opened up the transparent box containing them. I remember a completely different experience, some three years ago, that her brother went through in another time zone. What is a Children's Hospital, if it doesn't have a play area and proper toys for the most important customers?

To tell the truth, Heidi probably did not have to stay in the hospital. In the same ward as Heidi were: a boy who could not breathe and had to have his throat cut so that air could get to his lungs; another whose arms needed to be propped up by wooden planks and did not seem as if he could move on his own - his limbs looked that weak; a baby younger than Heidi who required milk to be fed thhrough tubes, another boy who seemed to be slow in development and suffering from high fever. All of them lay in bed all day, hardly getting up at all.

Heidi stayed for two nights there: the doctors wanted to observe and make sure her fever had subsided, her rashes had faded or stabilised and her coughing was better, before discharging her. The morning the doctors came to do the rounds (and there was a group of doctors, I think some were new and learning), one lady doctor told Heidi softly, "Goodbye. Grow up strong and healthy." I guess it's always a welcome change to be able to discharge the little patients with a light heart.

So we were discharged with the diagnosis 'Erythedema Multiforme', which according to Wikipedia, is "a skin disorder of unknown cause". Which is as much as can be said for the whole experience there. Question marks ruled.

As it was some while since I last wrote the above, I should also update about Ethan. Well, Ethan has had this hoarse voice for the longest time (well, about 3.5 years). I think it happened one day when he was 2 years old plus, he had a cold, and his voice was hoarse. And we waited for him to recover. Then we gave up waiting.

Recently, we have taken to telling him to stop shouting. He can't seem to control the volume of his voice. One night on our way home a few weeks ago, I noticed that apart from straining his vocal cords to speak loud and high, his voice was also fading some what. Concerned, I suggested getting a referral to see a specialist and surfed the net for hoarse voices in children. It does seem to warrant some attention.

So one day, while Jethro and Heidi were having their developmental assessment, Ethan went to see a doctor to get a referral. The following Monday, Jianming brought him to see an ENT doctor. The verdict - vocal cords nodules. According to Jianming, the doctor thought the slight abrasion at his voice box could be the cause of the hoarse voice, and his loud talking could be the cause of the abrasion. So, he's to take a medicine that would reduce the acidic secretion at his voice box, and he's to go for speech therapy to learn to use his voice properly. I hope we may get to hear his kiddy voice again.

Mummy's Language Grader

2011-05-27T13:22:00.002+08:00

I have not been to my in laws' place much since the birth of the third child. However, the boys still keep to the tradition. One day, while preparing to go there. Jethro asked me, "Mummy, can Heidi go to Ah Ma's place?"

Not wanting to say a straight 'no' and yet not soft-hearted enough to accede to a child's request, I beat around the bush a little: "Very troublesome... will go sometimes... only occasionally..."

Having said that, I went out, thinking I have made my reply understood.

Out of the room, I heard Jethro said in all innocence, "Daddy, Mummy said 'Can'!"

An Amusing 'Conversation' With Jethro

2011-04-18T15:46:00.004+08:00

I am always full time on a baby. One child, I am full time on him. Two children, I am full time on the new baby. Three children, I am still full time on the baby. So it's easy to conclude that I hardly spend time with the older 2 boys nowadays. I do feel sorely the missing out of these parts of their lives but I am just no supermum. Anyway, that's another matter. This time I am talking about one of those rare conversations I had with Jethro.

I was holding Heidi and Jethro was beside us, touching Heidi like some interesting creature (as all babies are).
Me: Jethro is a gor gor and a di di now.
Jethro: I not di di. She (Heidi) not di di. She mei mei.
Me: Is Jethro a di di?
Jethro: No. I gor gor.
Me: Jethro is a di di, Ethan's di di.
Jethro: No, Ethan big gor gor, I small gor gor.
Me: Jethro is who's di di?
Jethro: I no di di. I small gor gor.
Me: Does Ethan call you di di?
Jethro: No.
Me: Then what?
Jethro: ...
Me: He calls you Jethro?
Jethro: Yes.

A case of confused identity? He still can't process the fact that he is both a younger and an older brother...

Time-wasters

2011-03-03T12:45:00.000+08:00

Life is hard as it is minding one baby most of the time and three kids some of the times. Why then, do I still insist on:

1. using 'home-made' cotton wool pads over baby wipes? Every time the cotton wool pads run out, or are running short, I have to 'make' again - add water, soak cotton wool in water, tear off pieces by pieces.

2. using cloth nappies over disposable diapers? Every time the baby urinates, I must change and wash the nappy. Woe befalls me when the baby passes one of her major motions...

3. not using rocker and pacifier, especially to keep her asleep? My arms ache, need I say more?

4. doing partial breast feeding instead of full formula? Now I have to pump, with baby looking on, ready to cry any moment, and it takes from me precious time that I could have used to do housework or go to sleep.

5. hand-washing most of the clothes instead of using the washing machine? I can only say it's a tradition passed down...

6. not getting a maid or part-time one at least???

But stubborn, block-headed me will still trudge along, resisting any changes for the better.

I have found it near impossible to write blogs using only one hand and carrying a sleeping baby on the other. Consider this then an amazing feat, motivated by my eagerness to question my own idiosyncrasies...

Counting Down to... Christmas!

2010-11-27T22:21:00.006+08:00

In anticipation of a busy December, we put up the Christmas Tree quite early - in mid November. The boys were excited.

This does not seem to have anything to do with Christmas - I just put it in since they were really still in that joyous mood and it's in the same folder.

Auld Lang Syne

2010-11-25T14:58:00.007+08:00

Staying in Scotland taught me the literal meaning of 'Auld Lang Syne' - 'Old Long Since'. So I hesitated to use the phrase when I was leaving Scotland, since I didn't really stay that long. Yet, it comes again, when now Ethan's last day in his current child care centre is tomorrow.

Of this child care centre, I have mixed feelings, like most parents do with their kids' child care centres I am sure. But I admit that I do feel rather sad at its closing.

Having had no work for the first half of the year, I was privy to some of the inner activities of the school through my daily sending and fetching of Ethan. Somehow or other, it just happened - Jethro would spend sometime at the outdoor playground, playing with the outdoor toys, especially the car, after seeing Ethan to his classroom. The timing coincided with the nursery play time and the head teacher would welcome Jethro with a cheerful greeting. They did not mind that he play on the car, and might pose some hazard to the bigger kids running around. He was even invited to participate in their water play when they had that. At times like this, my headache was how to keep him from making trouble, and how to deal with the older kids who would sometimes gather around him threateningly. Every time, I had to cajole and drag him out of the child care centre so that I could get on with my grocery shopping and other routines. After I started work, a few of the teachers would still ask after Jethro and be delighted at seeing him at the few times when I was on leave.

It was thus that I came to know most of the teachers pretty well: how the English teachers had been changed 2 times - I saw all three of them; how for the afternoon session during Chinese week, it was originally handled by a K2 teacher but later they got a new one so the K2 teacher could be fully involved with the K2 classes. I also know that their meals are catered and not the healthiest around - they do serve fried stuff at times and nothing organic or wholemeal. Still, Ethan is in K1 and should eat like a kid I suppose. (Of course, all these are in the letters to parents and menus - but seeing them first hand is quite different.) And the kids seem to be given quite a lot of personal space to develop - not as disciplinary as some of the child care centres I have looked at - yet are a happy, rather well-behaved lot.

When the news of the school closure was announced in September, it created a big hoo-hah, especially when the initial closure date was end October. Nobody had any notion of its coming, not even the teachers. Forms had even been sent out in July or August asking the parents to confirm if their children were staying on for next year. Angry parents complained to the school management and the Ministry. Some results came out of all these self-righteous complaints - the school managed to get the closure date extended to end November, so that at least the K2 students could have a proper finish to their pre-school education, and the management waived off two months of school fees in October and November for all children who continued to stay. The last did not manage to attract most non-K2 parents, however, and it was sad to see the number of children in the centre dwindle to a handful as the weeks went by. The Children's Day celebration was brought forward to the last day in September because it was the last day for many of them. Now, Ethan does not go upstairs to his original classroom, but uses the classroom at the ground floor originally occupied by the nursery kids. The number of full-day K1 kids has reduced to a mere 3, that for half-day slightly more.

So tomorrow is the last day, and school is only half a day so the teachers can pack up in the afternoon. The building will no longer hear the laughter of little kids and bear with the rowdiness. No more tears and mess, and yet, no more happy chatter and little feet running about. No more children's art hanging on its walls and windows. The little tables and chairs will be gone, the stationery will be gone, the toys will be packed away, the playground will go to ruin. I wonder if the building will be torn down. In any case, it will be such an empty place next time we pass by it on our way home. Well, it's had its grand old days and fun, and we all move on - to primary schools or to other child care centres, where our kids' actions will add to the clamour and liveliness of other buildings.

So long, old yellow building. So long, the dedicated and respected teachers. So long, boys and girls, who have given my son the enriching experience of their friendships.

Jumble of Words: To be Humbled and Moved

2010-08-25T18:00:00.003+08:00

I was in a hurry. It was literally snatched off the table as I rushed to borrow the items. Jianming was waiting outside the library. The boys were somewhere about inside the library, still within my view but starting to get too interested in the glass panels that were the library walls. I was supposed to borrow only the CD attachment that came with the book I had borrowed earlier. I decided to linger a little around the table of displayed books and the title of this one arrested my attention: 'The Whole Five Feet', by Christopher Beha.

At first, it was just a book to read for me. The chapters were denominated by the months of the year (the author had taken it upon himself to use one year to finish a collection of Classics - occupying a shelf five-foot high - compiled by Charles Eliot in the nineteenth century). I had read until October without much feeling, despite the tribulations underwent by the author which he described alongside his thoughts about the books he had read. It was rather easy reading, nevertheless, and I wasn't bored.

Then, in 'October', the last paragraph of the chapter struck and humbled me: "... But as I sat in the dining room - the classroom - with my nieces and nephews, it seemed to me that the things my sister was teaching them, and not any accidents of biology, made them her children."

To be humbled by the writings of one rather much younger than me and who had no children of his own! I start to wonder what I have been teaching my children. Probably nothing much, especially since I started working. How can I claim them to be mine if I continue to be removed from their upbringing and know only to scold them for the things they do which disturb me?

Then, in 'November', I was moved by the poem which he highlighted because it had also moved him in a profound way. It was Tintern Abbey by William Wordsworth, or 'Composed a few Miles above Tintern Abbey, on Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour, July 13, 1798' -the complete title of the poem. I will append the full poem as downloaded from the Project Gutenburg, but here, I will just reproduce the portions that he had picked out:

"To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world
Is lighten'd:—that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on,
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame,
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things."

"For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Not harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue."

"That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came,
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love, oh! with far deeper zeal
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
That after many wanderings, many years
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
More dear, both for themselves, and for thy sake."

Years ago, I would not be able to appreciate this. Certainly not at the author's age. Although I had just come back from England then and the memory was still fresh in my mind, and I had doubtlessly replayed the natural beauty of the places countless times in my mind, I was still rather untouched by the travails of life then to look for elixir in the past. It was mostly with nostalgia that I looked upon those images. Years on, I still can't say I have suffered much, but I now know this 'heavy and weary weight' full well and how nature could have lightened it. In the midst of this congested city life, both physically and mentally, numbing all your senses, reading these sentences gave me a breath of fresh air; like some cooling panacea to the parched soul. Like I could revive, I could get rid of the mould and rust on myself and be as pure as a baby once more.
Beha's other sentence also resonates with what I sometimes feel when I have something to write in my mind (nothing so ambitious as to amount to a book) and yet when I actually do begin to write, I will be suffering from 'wordblocks' and mental blocks and the final piece usually turns out quite different from the original intention. He said, "In some ways, I suppose no one ever writes the book he sets out to write. The process of writing is a series of compromises by which the ideal gives way to the actual." He further lamented how the ability to express oneself in words that could touch the hearts of the masses, which the likes of Lincoln and Jefferson possessed, was rapidly being lost in our generation. Perhaps he was only talking in the American context, yet I have sometimes felt the truth of it myself.

Allow me to end this rather disjointed piece of essay with a touch of something else, again from another author's words, who might have shown me the light to a conundrum that has been bothering me for quite awhile. Beha quoted from Tolstoy's Anna Kerenina. Levin was having a revelation: "This new feeling has not changed me, has not made me happy and enlightened all of a sudden, as I had dreamed, just like the feeling for my child. There was no surprise in this either. Faith - or not faith - I don't know what it is - but this feeling has come just as imperceptibly through suffering, and has taken firm root in my soul.
I shall go on in the same way... but my life now, my whole life apart from anything that can happen to me, every minute of it is no more meaningless, as it was before, but it has the positive meaning of goodness which I have the power to put into it."

Much of what we have gone through in our lives have at certain times brought about some changes in our inner self. For me, they are notably the two periods of overseas life, having children and seeing how they develop. And I have always wondered why these have not enriched my actions and dealings with the people around me, the environment I live in and the society as a whole. Perhaps the clue is in the above passage. I, too, won't change much of my habits, my natural inclinations, my character flaws because I have experienced a certain degree of this nameless 'feeling' that came upon Levin. But perhaps I am closer to understanding life as it is.

Appendix (well, not really, since this has no separate chapter...)

The full poem of 'Composed a few Miles above Tintern Abbey, on Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour, July 13, 1798' by William Wordsworth

Five years have passed; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a sweet inland murmur. Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
Which on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view
These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which, at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Among the woods and copses lose themselves,
Nor, with their green and simple hue, disturb
The wild green landscape. Once again I see
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild; these pastoral farms
Green to the very door; and wreathes of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees,
With some uncertain notice, as might seem,
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,
Or of some hermit's cave, where by his fire
The hermit sits alone.

Though absent long,
These forms of beauty have not been to me,
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:
But oft, in lonely rooms, and mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart,
And passing even into my purer mind
With tranquil restoration:—feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure; such, perhaps,
As may have had no trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man's life;
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world
Is lighten'd:—that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on,
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame,
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.

If this
Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft,
In darkness, and amid the many shapes
Of joyless day-light; when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart,
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee
O sylvan Wye! Thou wanderer through the woods,
How often has my spirit turned to thee!

And now, with gleams of half-extinguish'd thought,
With many recognitions dim and faint,
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,
The picture of the mind revives again:
While here I stand, not only with the sense
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts
That in this moment there is life and food
For future years. And so I dare to hope
Though changed, no doubt, from what I was, when first
I came among these hills; when like a roe
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides
Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams,
Wherever nature led; more like a man
Flying from something that he dreads, than one
Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then
(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days,
And their glad animal movements all gone by,)
To me was all in all.—I cannot paint
What then I was. The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite: a feeling and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, or any interest
Unborrowed from the eye.—That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur: other gifts
Have followed, for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompence. For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Not harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean, and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man,
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye and ear, both what they half-create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognize
In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.

Nor, perchance,
If I were not thus taught, should I the more
Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me, here, upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou, my dearest Friend,
My dear, dear Friend, and in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart, and read
My former pleasures in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while
May I behold in thee what I was once,
My dear, dear Sister! And this prayer I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our chearful faith that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain winds be free
To blow against thee: and in after years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; Oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance,
If I should be, where I no more can hear
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence, wilt thou then forget
That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came,
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love, oh! with far deeper zeal
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
That after many wanderings, many years
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
More dear, both for themselves, and for thy sake.

They Know What They Say

2010-08-24T13:26:00.006+08:00

I had started this with the intention of 'compiling' the amusing things Ethan said (recently). Then I realise: it is getting difficult to record the conversations, primarily because he is at an age where what he says could be just a display of his gradually maturing thoughts and not really, like something worth noting down as amusingly precocious. Anyway, I had left this unfinished for so long because I couldn't find quite so many things that would motivate me to whisk a pen and paper from that far-off table and note them down (my brain has too many leaks). Until this morning. An amusing verbal incident happened - not to Ethan, but to Jethro. And I thought I would combine both and be done with it.

Ethan's like, mostly very rough with his brother - wrestling, hitting, shouting, pushing, elbowing... but really, he's not that bad...

When Jethro refuses to go into the lift, and all beckonings fail, I would sometimes threaten (futilely) to leave him outside. Ethan would get really anxious and said, "No, Jethro's still there!" And then called urgently to Jethro, "Jethro, come in! COME IN!"

Once Ethan was eating an apple. Jethro took an orange and tried to bite on it too. Ethan patiently explained to him that 'not all fruits you can eat the skin. Apple can, orange cannot.'

Jethro has acquired the exasperating habit of poking anyone and everyone, including strangers. He especially likes to do so in the lift, making me wish there's a hole in the ground I could just sink into. One day, he was poking Ethan when Ethan's back was turned. Expecting Ethan to berate him, I was surprised to see him calmly turn around and sternly told Jethro, "Jethro, I will give you one more chance." Of course, I made sure Ethan never got to show what he would do if Jethro used up that chance.

If you asked Ethan, "Do you want a baby sister or brother?" He would answer matter-of-factly, "A sister. Because there are two brothers now (he includes himself), so we should have a sister." It's heartening to hear him 'welcome' a new addition to the family like this. But alas, Ethan, Mummy cannot help its gender.

Ethan has rather good memories on cars, if not on anything else. Recently, he was still talking about his 大姑丈's brother's car. He said, "Next time we'll get a car that is bigger than 大姑丈's brother's car. Not just three rows, but four. Can store (he probably meant 'sit') 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 persons! E and R will sit with their mother. N will..." Those are his cousins by the way. Took me some while to figure out who this 大姑丈's brother is. We had used his car, an MPV, on our trip to Malaysia in April. April, four months ago.

Jethro in the morning, in the car, on the way to Childcare Centre, sometimes has this glazed look over his eyes, like he's really, really, bored with life. But sometimes he'd be quite engaged. He's also at this stage where he's micmicking the words of almost everyone he hears, in particular his brother. Yes, I kid you not, he's just at about this stage, no further, at the point of approaching two.

It's become his custom to ask about the whereabouts of his brother at least once on our way to work. This morning, he asked again, "Where Gor-gor?" After having asked this question without fail at least once each morning, I've gotten a bit bored with it and thus answered in a non-standard English way, "Gor-gor at school LAH!" Next moment, he's asking Jianming the same question, "Daddy, where Gor-gor?" Jianming probably found it pointless to repeat the answer, so he asked him back the same question. To which Jethro replied in an almost perfect imitation of my tone, "Gor-gor shgool AH!"

A Second Set of Stitches and Other Things

2010-07-08T11:21:00.011+08:00

Ethan's got his second set of stitches again. This time on the lower lip. It happened nearly 3 weeks ago and the wound's almost healed by now. Perhaps I shouldn't have brought him home early from school. But he was this happy to be home earlier. Then the howlings, the blood that welled up in his mouth and spilled all over the floor.
It was because I was mopping the floor and he was, as usual, jumping about in the house and oblivious to my warnings about wet floor. When I saw the cut, I thought, 'How could his upper teeth be so sharp?' and 'There it goes again, I'll have to bring him to the clinic, hope he won't need stitches.' But my hope was not met, we ended up spending the rest of the afternoon in KK Hospital.
While waiting for his stitching to be done (he had to be put unconscious again, but this was a different way, not general anaesthesia, compared to what was done in Scotland), I brought them for a walk upstairs, where there are shops, a small park and a small playground. Bought this art thing for Ethan to do on the spot as a way of passing the time, with guidance from the lady at the stall ('ArtUKidding'). For half an hour, he concentrated on colouring the car with the paint that would turn rubbery and hard after being heated, and was happy with the result. So, I think he had quite a good impression of hospitals in general. Dear me. Jethro also enjoyed the 'outing' and all the attention showered on him by the nurses. (They were really concerned about him making so much noise and shaking the railings on the hospital beds while we waited for Ethan to wake up.)
Life as a stay-at-home-mum is like this. Sometimes you feel helpless and alone in facing some issues with your kids. You'd better not fall sick because there is nobody else but you. But if you don't stay at home, and you work... Then there seems to be a dozen things to do each day and you have little time for your kids. You'll have to let go, and letting go is really hard and doesn't sound reasonable. You are afterall the mother.
So I have joined the rat race and everyday it's sitting in the car and bashing through the horrendous traffic so we can get to work one minute earlier and leave office a minute earlier. It gets tiring and the nerves are all strung up throughout the week for that rush and drumming the fingers during traffic jams. There is a bored toddler beside me and I really hate to have him go through this. Maybe in a few months' time, he's old enough and can join his brother in his child care centre that is nearer home. This is just temporary, you tell yourself. Everything is temporary. Every suffering, every inconvenience, they will be over - when the kids grow up, when you decide you can stop doing the work you don't like (your husband's pay is high enough), when working is easy-peasy and just a way of passing time and exercising your brain, because your kids don't need you that much anymore and you will be idling at home anyway. Come that day... But I don't want it to come so soon. I know I should spend more time with the children, especially at this period in their lives when they still look to you for company and guidance. Yet, this is also when the financial situation at home does not allow you so much freedom.
Why is life so difficult? Ever since Scotland, I have been asking myself. Can't we choose to make it easier? No rat race: scrimp and save and worry about saving sufficient money for the future; minimal social life. Rat race: no family time; the children are moving further away.

When You Were (Are) Very Young

2010-06-08T15:00:00.001+08:00

Sometimes a certain book's title caught your attention and imagination more than its contents. That's how I feel about A A Milne's collection of poems, 'When We Were Very Young'. I read it when I was not so very young, at a period of time when, by circumstances, I frequented the Children's Library more often than the Adult's. I am not saying I don't care for the poems inside. Being A A Milne, his poems are readable and rather charming. Still, I always think of the title, and how it fits the situation of my own sons (and many others as well, of course). At another period of life, I might not have noticed this book at all.
What is 'very young'? I wonder if Mr Milne meant that time of your life when you are quite small, barely at your parents' waists or shorter, and when your imagination is seldom inhibited by facts and probabilities. What you are thinking of, becomes the source of amusement or frustration (and sometimes both together) to the adults around you as it manifests itself into actions and words. I would like to think my sons are at this age, and still some way to go.
I sometimes have it in my mind to write a simple note to the boys, starting with...

"My dear sons, when you were very young, your mummy went on (a) no pay leave (that seems to have no end) and we lived in Scotland for awhile - when Ethan was between two and four and Jethro was born there and till he was 16 months.
We had fun there, Ethan, you and I, especially at the beginning. Remember (you probably don't) we played peek-a-boo with the blankets on the bed after reading Preston Pig and Wolf's 'Boo!'? You liked marching and playing drum a lot and the nursery rhyme we sang most often was 'Oh The Grand Old Duke of York' when we would march up and down the room, pretending to beat the drums. And Jethro, you did enjoy it there too, although I was a 'changed' mum by the time you were born...
I know that you kids like it best when you have parents who would act silly with you and I tried to do so, for sometime. But it got too stressful and lonely, this world of entertainment and immersing in playgrounds, toys, nursery rhymes, children's books, kids' meals. Then your brother was born, and I just had to be me again, just to relief the stress. Or perhaps to make myself more stressed. Still, I learned that I am not the only one. That Mothers all over the world have this problem of wanting to be 'good' mothers but not being able to suppress their own desires, feelings and inclinations. So it's okay to give in to what is your human nature sometimes, because you are only human. Only thing I still keep to is the tiresome job of providing quite nutritious meals for you whenever I cook. Though there are times when I nearly want to follow the example of a certain mother I knew once, when a sausage roll shall suffice for lunch.
So I stopped being the mother who doesn't scold, who doesn't hit, who will always entertain her children when they are bored. And I have stopped and never turned back. I do regret this. But perhaps what I need is to find a way to meet half-way, because I can't change what I am, but certain boring, harsh old ways I should try to change for a happier relationship with you all.
I believe one day I will miss you as babies and little boys; the carefree, blue skies you have shown me. One day, when I see you having problems of your own, wondering about which way to go next, worrying over the realities of your dreams - I think, I must really treasure this short precious period of your lives more, when you are so very young.
But I don't think I can stop chiding you and saying 'No!' instead of 'Why don't you do this instead?' most of the time. Cheeky tongue out here."

Little Trips and Little Activities

2010-05-26T14:16:00.000+08:00

As the fifth month of 'homecoming' comes to a close, and I am still NOT working, life is settling down for all of us. Though now the adjustments to be made when I do go back to work will be sources of stress and distress. Not so much Ethan and Jianming, I predict, but for me and Jethro. Well, we'll see. Some photos from March and April. May's aren't uploaded yet.
How fast the boys grow.

Fire Station

Whose cake are thou?

Mummy's!

Pirates one more time.

If I were to make a mess...

Tea-time (yes, and I need that askance look)

Dip dip

A poor attempt to catch J and T at play (and no, J wasn't behaving nicely that day)

I - LOVE the playground

Our Malaysia Easter holiday trip - guess where?

Just imagine it's moving, imagine...

The animals are 'free', we are in the cage

Says Ethan: "That's a girl horse, because she has long hair" ...

Says his cousin: "You don't throw like this. Come, let me show you."

Dum-dum-dum...

Brothers at play - wild and quiet times

Ethan: "I chose the cake! Hee hee."

Journey to Immortality

2010-03-15T14:03:00.010+08:00

It was morning and the museum has just opened. There weren't many people about and we had the space almost all to ourselves. I thought Jethro would be afraid of the low lighting and monumental, forbidding Egyptian exhibits at the basement. Instead, he very excitedly explored the underground-like area and was particularly taken with the falcon and sphinx statues. We explored a little of the National Museum above too, just the public areas - I didn't buy the tickets for the rest of the museum. Hardly surprisingly, it was my first time there since its refurbishment in 2006. Jethro got rather active and initially I was worried we would be told off by the many people working there. But a really jovial Malay man working at the museum, who apparently liked children very much and had lots of experience with them (he has 6 kids), actually tried to engage Jethro. So, it was a simple, fun, rare outing to the happening downtown. Thanks to K for making it possible.

One Specific Human Nature

2010-03-04T14:12:00.003+08:00

Ethan has been in this 'Not me!' phase for quite some time. Not all the time, but there are situations when he knows you are going to point the finger at him (or at least ostentatiously to check with him) or start blaming him and he'll say he didn't do it, it's not him, it's Jethro etc. Sometimes we choose to believe him, sometimes it is quite obvious he's not telling the truth, like yesterday. And it was quite hilarious.
On certain days we have dinners at home instead of going to the grandparents' place. For the dinner yesterday, I had used some pork ribs to boil some soup (old habits die hard) and given him a couple of the pork ribs. They are his favourites, among other junks like ice cream, fried chicken, crackers etc.
Our dining table is the kind that has a second level under the table top (glass surfaces and chrome legs, bought at the time when we had no kids and just wanted the furniture to match the stainless steel window grills the previous owner left us). After awhile, I noticed the pork rib bone which was initially placed on the table top having been transported to the lower level. So I asked Ethan, "Why did you put the bone there? It'll make it dirty." Ethan's immediate reply was, "I didn't put it there! It flew by itself!"
The answer was so incredulous I had to laugh, when usually I try to keep a straight face to his fanciful reasons. Jianming tried to hide his amusement as he asked him, "And how does it fly it there? How can it fly by itself?"
"The wind blew it..." followed by some action sounds and gestures showing how the bone could have been blown by the wind and 'moved' from the upper surface to the lower surface.
This brings to mind one book I read about child development. The author said that 'children who cannot conceive of the contents of the mind of another cannot really be said to be lying. They are probably describing the situation as they wish it had occurred... “2 and 3 years olds are such terrible liars, they hardly qualify as liars at all…"' She gave the age when children generally are truly lying (what an oxymoron) at about 5 or 6. So we are probably getting a preview of Ethan's lies now. However, the reason given was so highly improbable that I feel we cannot really begin disciplining dishonesty yet.

Sunny Side Up

2010-03-01T14:45:00.000+08:00

Time for some of the regular updates. It shall have few words, because gee... the weather is hot and I just want to relax and not do too much typing.

Kids at play.

More kids at play.

One kid at play.

The zoo.
Part 1:

Part 2:

Familiar?

Squatting because brother does it.

Walking with Daddy.

Chinese Garden.

Trying to catch me smiling huh?

No Mood for Remembering

2010-02-09T14:52:00.003+08:00

I have been finding it difficult to write since we came back. Not that there isn't anything to say. Oh, there are lots. To do with the kids, to do with the flat, to do with my job (or no-job?), to do with how I seem to harden even more as a mother after I am back, contrary to my original intentions. I even thought about our nightmarish pre-departure swipe of our rented flat in Scotland and wanted to jot down all the horrible details.

But no, a day went by and another and another, it was so easy to not bother about the blog and just go for a nap or a read or an earlier night. Here when one is constantly feeling sticky except for the few minutes after a shower (or when a cool wind blows after rain), lethargy is in one's nature. Somehow, when there is no need to update anymore, I have also lost the urge to write and to take photos of the kids. Who are my readers? Do I write for myself, do I write for you who are still reading (and I can sort of guess who you are), or do I write for old times' sake?

Then one afternoon I was looking at the soft toys we brought back from Scotland. They are put together with the other soft toys which had been kept here in boxes while we were away. I put one near my nose - it smelt of - nothing. And nothing was a nostalgic smell. In contrast to the musty smells of the other soft toys, the soft toys we brought back are clean and odourless. They had been loved and cuddled. At that instant, those two years plus, which have sometimes felt like time borrowed out of another dimension, having no continuity with this life that I have come back to claim, suddenly came alive to me and I missed it.

I think I will write now and then, when that feeling comes, just that it may not be as narrative as before. I am not sure who I write to anymore, but I hope you still come this way, now and then.

Patience!

2010-01-11T13:14:00.002+08:00

Patience, patience... I need so much of it, and yet lacking it has always been one of my character flaws...
Patience to see me through Jethro's prolonged screaming, crying bouts. Patience to get over Ethan's overly whiny behaviour and inability to adapt to school life here. Patience to wait for a place to settle in that will hopefully be homely and comfortable enough to settle me, to the settle the kids, to calm the turmoil. Patience to get through this stage, to take with equanimity whatever the future brings.
I need some resolve too, about whether to go back to work and putting the kids in childcare. I am so not used to the idea now.

December Ensemble

2009-12-29T23:00:00.002+08:00

I recently learnt a new word which originated from Yiddish, called 'schmaltzy'. Let's not be too schmaltzy here, in this perhaps the last piece of my blog. (I am still not sure if I will continue with blogging back home.)

Sweetness is intoxicating, too overwhelming. But the taste of bitter sweet and sour rampages your senses, reaching your innermost feelings with a richness and appreciation of life as only such a mix can. That must have been what December has been like for me, filled with bitter nostalgia, sweet goodbyes and the sourish taste of unmet wishes.

The start of December saw me stocking up on food and other necessities. I cooked bigger portions of macaroni cheese and fish pie and beef stew and stored them in the fridge, till I ran out of containers to put them in. Jianming was away for a week at a conference in Canada and I wanted to make cooking a non-fuss, and minimise trips to the supermarkets. Despite the absence of Jianming, we managed all right. The kids did not behave any better, neither did I. But it was a week of routine without major mishaps. Ethan still went to nursery, Jethro to playgroups. I even brought Ethan to the museum to listen to the handbells the Sunday Jianming was not around. He was even 'volunteered' in their regular science shows because there were not enough children watching it - he's the youngest 'volunteer' of the 4 volunteers. The lady asked if he would like to come up and I had to nudge him a bit. He would be asking me about the part of the science show that he got 'volunteered' for for the rest of the week and after. Ethan asked to watch Fireman Sam for his bedtime cartoon every night, and Jethro enjoyed the theme song and the alarm bell ringing with the adrenaline-charged music so much that I was able to put them in front of the cartoon and take a shower meanwhile. I even left them alone while I went downstairs, with less and less haste each passing day, to throw rubbish - as much as 4 to 5 times a day when Jethro had his most 'relaxed' bowel movements.

Christmas at West Princes Street Gardens was as usual - with the story telling, Santa Claus and 'train' ride.

Church celebrating 70 years of Sister Patricia's work. They had a Polish band, I can't remember why.

A short trip to the Botanic Gardens to make a Christmas wreath. We were late and there wasn't much material left for the wreath. We went because I wanted to see the Botanic Gardens again (a winter one) and the new John Hope Gateway building.

Children. Sometimes they fight, sometimes they hug.

Christmas pageant at the nursery. Ethan was the 'spinning top' in one of the Christmas songs,not part of the main pageant. I think he did well, 'spinning and spinning'. I am not posting the photo here as the other kids' faces are too clear.

Women's Club Scottish lunch. The last time I went to Women's Club. I have had a good time here, though sometimes it could get quite boring. Made some really good friends (while it lasts, I suppose). Won't be forgetting them, those fabulous ladies!

Parcelling out chocolates for Ethan's classmates on Ethan's last day at the nursery. If you ask me now what I miss most here I shall say it's the nursery with Ethan and his friends and the teachers and that rowdy atmosphere every time I went to fetch Ethan to and fro nursery. Ethan had a wonderful time there and like the Swedish boy an age ago, I may well miss it more than Ethan does.

Christmas party at the nursery: his present and the cookie.

Singing show at home.

Our third and final Christmas here and it's white and muddy. There was no snowing on Christmas Day and the snow was melting. Our Christmas eve dinner was too near our departure date, so it was a simple one of beef stew, with oven-heated frozen rolls, frozen parsnips, frozen apple pie and a Nutella cake that I made but was too rich.

Christmas day at church. We missed the mince pies and mulled wine after the mass because we were at the nativity scene and Jianming was writing a card for Margaret, the lady who led the Children's Liturgy.

On a sunny, wintry day, we went to the Mortonhall Crematorium.

We couldn't decide where to put the flowers for Ninn; in the end, we placed then on top of a small hill, at the foot of the cross (the yellow ones).

Distant Pentland Hills covered in snow. The snowman was probably built for a child who could not enjoy it any more. We saw one grave surrounded with lots of toys and soft toys - it was the grave of a baby 'born sleeping'.

Brrr.... it was cold!

Post-Christmas Sale shopping. I am a really inefficient shopper. First day of sales on boxing day, and I came back with not enough bags to justify the number of hours I spent on Princes Street. The next day I went shopping twice (back in between for church - I'd miss the church too - and lunch) and bought more substantial stuff. The third day I took Ethan out while Jethro was sleeping so Jianming could do some clearing up at home. It was a rather nice trip for both of us and I think I am finally done with it. Any omission is intentional and beyond my ability.

It is snowing again today, 29 Dec. I wonder if we will get to leave Europe. All moods are set for departure. Saying farewells, finishing up perishing foods (I must have gained back some weight that I lost since my miscarriage), throwing things, giving things, and of course, packing up. I like a clutter free home, and throwing or giving away stuff is therapeutic to me. Still, I hope we don't have to unpack our stuff and feelings tomorrow.
I would walk along the streets of Edinburgh (these three days' shopping spree provided the opportunity), this city that I have come to love, and say my silent adieus. Fare thee well, Edinburgh, your prominent cityscape of castle on a rock, and Arthur's Seat with Salisbury Crags; your cobbled streets and dark, ancient buildings; Waverley Station and its tracks wavering in a valley of its own like the main artery; the supermarkets and nearby shops that I have become so familiar with; the gulls which are forever circling above the chimney tops of the city's 4,5-storeyed buidlings.

I will miss the Farmer's Market. I will miss the playgrounds. I will miss the Sunshine Club playgroup. I will miss Women's Club and all the ladies there. I will miss St Patrick's Church and Margaret's Children Liturgy that Ethan attended. I will miss the cold, white Christmas and the long summer days, all the seasons of the year except January and February perhaps. Not to mention the little trips that we took.
I miss being the mother at the toddlerhood of Ethan and the infancy of Jethro in Edinburgh. I now appreciate how difficult it is to be a stay-at-home-mum. Lots of things still unsaid but maybe I will leave it for another day. Or maybe I will leave them unsaid and just let the cells that contain them die away.

The Other Side Of Snow

2009-12-24T18:12:00.010+08:00

While the kids, especially Ethan, are having fun with the snow...

Snowman #1

The Meadows and George Square Garden:

At our backyard

Snowman #2

The persisting snow storm, while mild in Edinburgh compared to the rest of Europe, is generating another level of worry. Flights at Schiphol Airport where we are to have our transit have been postponed due to the heavy snow. So now whether our flight can leave on time is a big question. I certainly don't wish to find out that the flight is delayed for a few days only after we reach Edinburgh Airport. Because I don't want to turn back to an empty flat - Jianming has arranged with the university to have the flat till 6 Jan if our flight is delayed. But after that, the new tenants move in and what are we to do? Let's hope we won't have to answer that question.

Scabies?!

2009-12-23T17:39:00.007+08:00

Scabies? Scabies! That's what the doctor thinks Jethro has.
Jethro has been having these itchy, red blotches on his genital areas, scalp and necks for a week or more. I have also started having similar rashes around my waist and arms. And it seemed to get worse and not better, so finally I brought him (and me) to see the GP yesterday.
The doctor was actually not sure. There is a tell tale sign of tunnels on the skin (made by the baby mites that hatch out from the eggs laid inside us) but she couldn't find any. Me neither. They could do a skin test to check for mites but I think GPs don't bother to. So she just prescribed me the cream for Scabies (Permethrin 5%). I am to go back in a week's time if the symptoms are not relieved.
The cream had to be applied all over the body for more than 8 hours and the best time is of course around bedtime. Imagine smearing insecticide all over the body. I think this is as close as it can get.
After a quick look at the internet, I started my washing frenzy. Bedsheets, pillow cases, blankets, pyjamas, gloves, jumpers, socks, bobble hats - almost everything I could think of and the list just got longer from morning to afternoon to evening. I stopped at the coats though, because it just seemed too daunting by then. And this is the first time we used the dryer here, because there is absolutely no space for 3 sets of bedsheets, not to mention all the other clothes as well.
I also intended for Ethan and Jianming to apply the cream too, even though the doctor hadn't prescribed for them and there might not be enough cream to go round - I am supposed to use a whole tube while Jethro a quarter of it. They haven't any rashes yet but Scabies is supposed to be very infectious. The whole family should be treated at the same time, according to the Patient UK website.
So I delayed the kids' shower time yesterday since the cream has to be washed off within 12 hours. I couldn't seem to get the whole tube on me and I might have put too little on Ethan and Jethro. I am afraid this won't work well, but we'll see if in a week or so, the rashes reduce. In the morning, we had to take showers again, and hence, more washing to dry. (But it did feel refreshing, that morning shower. Everyone seems more awake after it.)
What a bother, and I thought I didn't have to do much washing already.
Double bother, I feel itchy and scratchy.

Snow Is Falling

2009-12-20T23:53:00.009+08:00

Beyond my wildest dreams, it has been snowing since Thursday. Big, dense flakes of snow that actually accumulate on every tiny surface and stay as snow (yes, it was that cold), except of course on the roads and paths, which turn to slippery, wet, muddy slush due to feet and wheels.

Jethro had his first (and final?) taste of snow this winter. The kids are excited. I love it.

At the mosque near our flat

At the university departments on the way back from Women's Club Lunch

At the nursery, last day of school

At Princes Street

From Darkness to Light

2009-12-10T23:00:00.011+08:00

This is the story of my miscarriage. I finally decide to publish it, despite this being a long, long-winded piece (and I have edited, and re-edited it many times to shorten it). I feel that, perhaps, someone of you would want to know more about it. Things I could not narrate in emails or video conference because those are meant for short and quick exchanges - most of the time anyway. Sometimes I wonder if I should keep such an unwelcome experience in sharp focus. It may be better to just let it fade. But maybe one can never truly forget it anyway. I am not sure how sad this can be - I didn't find it so when I was writing it. Still, if you are pregnant or intending to, better not continue reading as there is always that danger of getting a little too depressed.

In the beginning. In the End.
wk 1: They begin to date from the first day of the last menstrual period, even though I am not even formed yet!
wk 3: I think my very short life begins some time here. Mummy's not sure, because her period only came back 2 months ago, so it may still be quite irregular.
wk 4: Mummy's beginning to suspect, but she doesn't want to confirm yet, since she's not sure how regular her period is.
wk 6: I think my presence is beginning to be felt by her. She's feeling a little nauseated (but that may be due to her cold and cough) and very tired (but that can be due to my two brothers).
wk 7: She's tested it and gone to the GP. She wants to get a dating scan because she's not sure how big I am. She's not even sure of the date her last period started. She knows she will only get the scan at about wk 12 or 13.
I am the third child. My two brothers have been here before. Mummy is not always happy that I am here. She worries alot. She worries that I am not going to be normal (what's 'normal'?) She worries about this obstetrics cholestasis thingy that she had when she was pregnant with my second brother. It may happen earlier for my case. And there may be other new complications now that she's older and feels less fit. She's not sure she likes the idea of having three boys - if I am a boy (that's not my concern).
Then she worries about the breastfeeding, about having insufficient milk supply again, about partial breastfeeding and all that that entails: lactation aids, formula milk, messy feeding, soreness and pumping. Feeling perpetually tired and picky on food do not make things easier. She's lost interest in trips.
wk 8: I think something's gone wrong, maybe right from the start. Anyway, this must be where it will all end, for me at least. In this dark and silent world. But wait... is that light? And are those the merry sounds of my brothers? Oh, they are playing under the table. I might have joined them. It looked fun. But I couldn't, obviously.

The weeks rolled by, I didn't know. My morning sickness continued. Soon, it was time for my booking appointment with the midwife.

Knowledge and Acknowledge
Usually the dating scan is before the booking appointment. This is for the midwife to get the EDD from the ultrasound scan. But this time, the booking appointment was before the ultrasound scan and I remember thinking that so far, they only had my word that I was pregnant.
The system seemed to have just got computerised and the midwife and a trainee midwife were grappling over the forms to be filled in on screen. They had no records of my previous pregnancy and I had to provide the information from memory. We spent a rather drawn-out one hour on this. They also took 4 tubes of my blood for various blood tests in the meantime. It actually felt painful and the area was sore for a couple of days.
The midwife told me to call back on Monday after my dating scan to inform them of the EDD. They booked me for an appointment in 4 weeks' time, because of the Spina Bifida and Down's Syndrome screening test. I had told them I didn't want one, not after my previous experience. But she booked the date anyway, "just in case you change your mind, though I don't think you will."
Monday came and it was like any other day, except Ethan was recovering from a cold and we didn't bring him to the nursery. But he seemed ok in the afternoon and Jianming decided the whole family should go to the Royal Infirmary to see the baby for the first time. So we all went, a rather bulky baggage it must have appeared, with a backpack of the kids' things, Jethro and Ethan all wrapped up for the cold weather and Jethro asleep in the sling Jianming was carrying.
My turn came, we went in, and there was no premonition of what was to happen. But when the scan showed my womb, that something might be wrong began to dawn on me. The sac looked empty. Where was the baby? With Jethro, it had been so obvious. The sonographer did not say anything though, and went on to measure the dimensions of the gestational sac. Then she moved the probe to show the baby, it was rather small compared to the size of the sac and I was wondering if I should breathe a sigh of relief when she said, "This is not good news." Then, "I am sorry, but the baby is not developing well. Though we don't just look at that... there is no heart beat." She said she had to ask for a second opinion according to standard procedures. So she went out to get another sonographer who basically came in, looked at the screen, and confirmed her observation.
I was quite calm then although I could feel Jianming's stunned silence. Maybe because it hadn't come as a instantaneous shock to me. I am a natural worrier anyway. I am always worrying if I would be lucky this time round. Why did I risk it and get pregnant again, I had asked myself before. I would look at Jethro and Ethan, two rather different boys who already gave me different pregnancy experiences, different birth experiences and different characters, despite both being boys. Sometimes I wondered too, how I could cope with another one, when my temper is like this, when I am so flustered with the obsession of having to do my chores first. No doubt I would be back home then and back to work, things might be different. It might be worse. Also, unfairly for being the third child, I was not that excited and had suppressed the exhilaration of nurturing a new life because of all my worries.
The sonographer brought us to the Pregnancy Support Centre. We were waiting in the counselling room and the big, bulky 'Book of Remembrance' was held on a stand opposite me. I was still pretty calm. But then the nurse came in and the first thing she said was, "I am so sorry." And I couldn't control a few tears from falling then. It began to hit me that this was a sad event, because someone else, a stranger, was showing sympathy. But somehow, I managed to get through the meeting without breaking down. She gave me a leaflet on the options open to me and said I need not decide then and there and to call them once I had made my decision.

Decisions! Decisions!
The leaflet talked about three options: natural miscarriage, surgical evacuation and medical management. Surgical evacuation rather appealed to me more at that time because I really wanted to just let someone else take care of this and I felt I just couldn't go through the actual miscarriage process. And it's the quickest. For natural miscarriage, you won't know when the process will start, and for me, it's been three weeks since the fetus died apparently. For medical management, it would be closest to natural miscarriage but probably more intense, like induction of labour versus natural birth.
Jianming and I talked about this on the bus journey back and he preferred medical management. He was worried the perforation of the womb due to the surgical intervention would reduce the chance of getting pregnant again. I was still affected by this miscarriage and could not be so 'forward-looking' like Jianming.
I had blocked out from my mind any other thoughts of the fetus itself. I would need more support for the other two methods from Jianming who is at his busiest period trying to finish up his thesis. I had the impression that for surgical evacuation I could be up and about on the same day. I decided to go ahead with my decision. Jianming later said that the nurse did mention in the conversation that it was to be suction method but I hadn't caught it and it was not mentioned in the leaflet. I naively thought it was some clean-cut removal, albeit with insertion from the vagina, maybe with an ultrasound scan to help them (hence the risk of perforation?). Anyway, I called the nurse about 10 minutes before the centre closing time (4.30pm) that same day to tell her my decision. She said the earliest slot for surgery would be this Friday. She would call me again later to provide more details. And she did call back, about an hour later, to tell me to come to the Pregnancy Support Centre on Thursday 2.30pm (to take some blood samples and sign the consent form). The operation would be at 8am (for me to start waiting of course, think government hospitals) on Friday.

To know grief once again...
So I had about 3 more days till Friday. In the days leading up to the appointment on Thursday, there was time for the meaning of it all to start sinking in. On Monday evening itself, Jianming had started surfing the net and he wanted me to ask the nurse about providing a dignified incineration, instead of the usual heat treatment together with other medical wastes. Thus began the process of 'humanizing' the fetus - not that I never regarded it as a live being (when it was alive), just that I never got round to thinking much about it having a chance to become a neonate if things had been different. I hadn't wanted to have anything to do with the miscarried products. I thought I couldn't bear to see it. Then this request from Jianming.
Next he mentioned about giving the fetus a name so he could put the name up in church on Sunday, it being All Souls' Day. So the fetus now had a soul too. It's starting to get unbearable.
Finally there was the request if I could go for another ultrasound scan again, just to make sure the first diagnosis was not a mistake. I acknowledged the caution of this measure but it was rather hard to take. To have to go through that again, and alone this time (Jianming had to stay at home to take care of the children). The first time I had tried not to look too hard at the scan and that was probably how I got through. How was I to do it again? He had actually read in the net that if the fetus did not have heart beat at 8 weeks, it would be prudent to try again in 7-10 days' time. Also, my period might not have been regular yet. Maybe the fetus was indeed 8 weeks old instead of 11-12 weeks? But I didn't know this thing he had read about or I would have pointed out then that it's no point having the scan in 2.5 days' time.
The next day was a day of intermittent grief. Jethro, in particular, triggered it at times, seeing him toddling towards me, smiling in his mischievous way. Jethro, who might have been miscarried too, if I had gone ahead with the amniocentesis then and that 1 in 200 risk of miscarriage had happened to me. Jethro, who survived the womb and came out healthy, only to be tortured by my lack of milk into a dehydrated, hypothermic baby, having to be admitted to the neonatal unit at 7 days old. I remember getting out of the room because I couldn't bear to look while the doctor was trying to get some blood out of his tiny, dehydrated hands (to test if he was dehydrated!). The little needle points and the veins were to stay visible for months.
Another day, and I started to feel I could live with this fetus not growing inside me and hoped that a natural miscarriage would occur before Friday, so that it would efface all doubts of it being really dead, and also relieve me of having to make a decision to actively remove it.
But Thursday came and I still had no signs. So I went for the appointment (called a 'pre-clerking appointment'). The nurse who saw me was sympathetic and understanding, readily acceding to my request to have another scan and helping me find out about separating the extracted pregnancy tissue from the rest, though she was quick to point out that it would be in bits and pieces, I wouldn't see any fetus in it. She went through some medical history with me in preparation for the operation (mainly the anaesthesia part) the next day. Then she took two tubes of blood from me, to check my blood group (again!) and to make sure I am not anaemic. I have grown resigned to the fate that my meeting with NHS must always end in blood loss. What happened to my last 4 tubes? Couldn't they have taken from there?
I also realised that the procedure involved suction, and that reminded me of abortion. I am no religious person, but I am pro-life. How can one not be in this age of information and you can easily see pictures of the developing fetus on the net? I began to feel bad about the baby - my choice of extraction would tear it into pieces! How could I?
On top of that, I had a closer look at the ultrasound scan this time. The sonographer explained in more details to me. Snatches of the conversation: "At 6mm, we can already see the fetal heart beat. Yours is much bigger than that and as you can see, there is no heart beat." "The sac is jagged at the edges. It is actually starting to collapse. I am sorry." "Can you tell me how long is it now?" "My measurement is about 1mm different from the previous scan, but it means nothing. It may be that this time the image is clearer, and also human inaccuracies." (It was probably clearer, I was made to gulp down one jug of water prior to this scan.) So after this, I was quite convinced already, and it couldn't have been machine problem. Staring at the screen, I began to feel pity for this poor baby, and to wonder, oh how promising that image looked! It could have grown into a baby like any other.
I also found out that having general anaesthesia would render me rather functionless for a day and more. I would need an escort to see me home from the hospital - I had thought I wouldn't have to trouble Jianming and could go home on my own. Following that, for 24 hours after the anaesthesia, there were certain things like driving car and signing legal documents that I could not do. I began to fear that I would be incapacitated for longer than I had expected.
Along with all these new considerations were the risks of infection and womb damage, I started to feel more inclined towards medical management. But I was a stubborn, inflexible person so in the end, after getting the reassurance that less support was indeed needed for the surgical method, I signed the consent form. And apparently now that I had a miscarriage, I am 'eligible' for an early ultrasound scan for subsequent pregnancies, say, at 9 weeks. I just need to call the Pregnancy Support Centre.
During the wait for the doctor who would go through the consent form with me, I finally found the courage to open the Book of Remembrance. In it were all the beautiful and poignant wordings by the mothers who had miscarriages. They were really touching, though quite the usual stuff like dates when they found out the fetus was dead, dates when they had it removed, 'we will see you again in heaven', 'your mummy and daddy and brother and sister miss you'... And I still couldn't put any feelings into words.
This appointment had been a rather emotional one for me. Reaching home, I started to doubt all my decisions. Especially when Jianming showed me the sentence about reviewing in 7-10 days. Especially when we read a blog about how the first scanning for one particular mother was an 'egregious error' and luckily they found out in time on the day of the operation and the author went on to have a healthy daughter. And is there any ethical issue about surgical method like so many debates between the pro-choice and the pro-life? It doesn't seem to be the same as this is a miscarriage. But as a mother, shouldn't I have the courage to go through the pain of a natural or induced miscarriage rather than let other people do the dirty job for me? Just like how most women would prefer to give birth naturally instead of caesarean section if they could help it. But the thought of the whole process possibly lasting a few days, making it difficult for a two-adult family with two kids and no other external support to sustain the day-to-day activities, did not give me any impetus to change.

A New NHS Experience
So with the question of doing another scan (even though I was really quite convinced of the non viability of the fetus already, it's just that if there were even a slim chance that the fetus was alive, how could I just brush it off?), and of opting for the medical management instead, I left for the Day Surgery Unit at the Royal Infirmary the next morning. I had gotten up early in the morning to prepare Jethro's lunch. Jianming's and Ethan's lunch was an easy tortellini with tomato sauce and I had cut up some beans and carrots to go in it. For dinner, we had a slight argument the night before: Jianming wanted to buy some fish to cook but I just wanted to get some ready-made meals since I might not be able to help around the flat much. In the end, I prevailed and I went out to get some Italian pasta and fish pie that would last us two meals.
The waiting room at the Day Surgery Unit had big windows looking out to the bus stops, driveways and car parks. I could see, as the sky brightened, the hustle and bustle of people walking by, of buses moving past, of life carrying on as usual, oblivious to the little tragedies happening amongst it.
The first person I met was the anaesthetist. He looked quite young and junior. When he knew I was having cough, he had some concern about giving me general anaesthesia (GA) and asked if I was all right with a spinal anaesthetic instead. Now, I had been quite wary of being given a GA and actually did ask the doctor on Thursday why a local one was not usually administered. The doctor could not give me an answer then, and here was the anaesthetist volunteering it today. I should have jumped at it and said ok I suppose. But the way he posed the question made me hesitate. Maybe it would not be a nice feeling to be conscious during the operation? He then explained that as this was a short (10 minutes, he kept saying) operation, they usually administered GA since the effect could be quickly reversed after the operation. Whereas for a spinal one, it would take about 3 hours for the numbness to go away and I would have to stay in the hospital for a longer time. So I was not quite sure and could not give him an answer too. In the end, he said he would discuss with his colleague. He went out and I could hear him explain the situation to someone. Then I heard a stern voice asking him back what he thought he should do! The doctor mumbled some reply and then came back a long reply from the voice full of authority but I couldn't catch what they were saying. When he came back, he suggested GA. He said as it was a short operation (yes, 10 minutes), he didn't think there would be a problem and they would also clear my mucus up for this. At that point, I just didn't want to be 'too clever' and think that doctors could make mistakes too. I just wanted to let the experts make the decisions for me, even though it's my own life at stake. So I agreed.
After further waiting, I next met the nurse. She went through the pre-operation checklist with me and was about to give me the tablets to put inside my vagina (to soften the cervix) when I raised the question about the ultrasound scan. Sensing an indecision on my part, she did not go ahead with the tablets and told me to wait and speak to the doctor first.
The surgeon looked forbidding (and thus experienced). He went through the consent form that I signed. Then he said, "So I heard from the nurse you have some questions?" I did not know how to put across our doubts succinctly but I really tried. He shook his head, "Normally we can see the heart beat at 6mm. Yours is 16mm! We can definitely see the heart beat at this time." Every time I raised a query, he shook his head, "No, not possible." In the end, he said, "You can either do the operation today or another day." Basically he meant there would be no need for further ultrasound scan to confirm. I call him the brutal surgeon (silently, of course!). So I said okay. Then I asked him about taking away the pregnancy tissue. He had this what-a-ridiculous-request look on his face and said nobody had ever asked this before. (That turned out not to be true, people have asked in the past, I guess, just not to him. So I asked the wrong person. I am losing it, that experience of working in a big and bulky organisation.) He emphasized that I would not see anything, just blood. I insisted. Jianming had agreed to deal with this part of the business and the least I could do was to secure the pregnancy tissue. He said he could ask. Then, I asked (oh dear, too many questions) about medical management, would I get a complete tissue with that method? He shook his head (but that didn't mean no, it just meant he's not supportive of what I was getting at). "It would just be a blood clot. You have to search (he demonstrated with his hand searching) for it." By then, he was standing as he thought I had asked the last question with the taking away of the pregnancy tissue. Now, he sat back down, stared up at me and said, "You can have medical management if you want." I thought about all the arrangements made for today - the food, Jianming staying at home. Too tired to struggle any more, I stuck to the original intention.
When I went back to the nurse again, she asked me if I could put the tablets in myself or if I needed someone else to do it. At first, I indicated I needed help. Later, I thought why not make myself useful for once? Obviously people would rather not have to do this for someone else if they could help it. So I said I would try. She gave me the two tablets and some gel. I put on the glove and this was the part where I broke down. Here goes, from here on, the baby had to come out. Goodbye, baby. Even though you had been dead for sometime, this was the part where I finally had to say goodbye. I now knew why I couldn't write anything before this. I just didn't feel the baby gone yet as long as it remained within me. The nurse gave me a room to stay by myself for awhile. I wrote my Goodbye to the baby and said I was sorry to have chosen this easy way out for myself.
Soon, I was conducted to the changing room to change into the theatre gown. There was a TV in the room and I remember the TV hosts screaming out "It's Friday the 13th!" Oh please, I just needed more of this. Another nurse went through the pre-operation checklist once more and took me to the anaesthetic room. There we waited for the big guys.
The surgeon came in and gave me a slight smile. I was fine with that so long as he's professional. Then the anaesthetist came in and he wasn't young. He's a rather old white man with a cool yet charming smile. I wondered if he could be the stern voice I heard talking to the first anaesthetist earlier - he indeed spoke rather sternly to the medical student who was with us. But he had a kind smile and kind words for me. As the anaesthetic fluid was injected into me, the doctor looked at me, smiled and said, "Time to sleep." That must be his catch phrase twenty times a day. He started pushing it in, but I wasn't asleep yet. No, I wasn't! Then they put an oxygen mask over me and as I breathed in, I had the illusion that it was the breathing that made me drowsy. I closed my eyes, it felt peaceful, not at all scary like I thought and saw Ethan go through.
"Swee, wake up." The nurse was calling me. I opened my eyes and recalled everything before my GA immediately. I knew the operation must be over. I knew now my womb must be empty. I should feel sad but I had such a good sleep I actually felt calm and refreshed. They asked if I was ok and I said I felt a bit sore, so they gave me a painkiller. They took the sensors off me and pushed me to the ward.
It was a narrow space we had there, not like the maternity wards. The surgeon came to talk to me. He started with the operation being successful, then said I had lost 'a bit' more blood than they expected and I would have to stay till 5pm for observation (normally one could go home between 1-3pm). I wasn't really much concerned by it as I felt fine, almost painless. I was left much to myself after that with the nurses coming at intervals to take my blood pressure and pulse rate and change my pads. Then they took another tube of blood off me to check my iron levels since I had lost 'a bit' more blood. They gave me my refreshments and I had a sandwich and some tea before they rushed over to take them, including the jug of water, away from me. "Doctor's instruction. You are not to have anything to eat. Sorry." In case I had to go back to the operating theatre again.
My medical file was lying nearby. I felt I could read it without much feeling. There were just so many goings-on around me and the fluorescent lights really made a difference to the mood of the place. I began to read the file with interest. There were the two reports of my two visits to the Pregnancy Support Centre. I noted down the ultrasound scan measurements:
From the first report:
9 Nov 09 14:20
USS: Location PSC Direction Transabdominally Findings: Single IU gestation sac GSD=76x23x53mm MGSD=50.5=10w 6d. Containing a non viable fetus CRL=16mm=8w 2d. No FH. Small bleed adjacent to sac.
The second report:
12 Nov 09 14:30
USS Findings: Large intrauterine irregular shaped gestation sac. Single fetal pole CRL=8+2 weeks. NO FETAL HEART MOTION SEEN.
There were the consent forms and all the other forms I went through with the doctor and nurses on Thursday and Friday. Then there was the GA monitoring during my operation. I found out that the operation had lasted for 30 minutes in my case and there was a further 20 minutes before I woke up. I had lost 700ml of blood. I am not sure if that was considered a lot for this kind of procedure, and what the norm would be. But perhaps ignorance is bliss here. In the forms they wrote 'non-viable fetus', 'non-viable pregnancy'. I noted that nowhere did they mention the word 'dead'. The operation was called Surgical Evacuation of the Uterus. I learned that the plastic container they put under (or behind) my trolley when I was first wheeled into the ward was the 'Products of Conception'.
Jianming came with the two boys at around 4.30pm. Jethro found the environment, including me in my theatre gown and in bed, strange and clung onto Jianming, refusing to let me carry. Jianming had contacted a funeral director who would collect the pregnancy tissue from the hospital on Monday. Over the weekend, it would be stored at the maternity ward, in a place called the 'Cocoon'.
The doctor on duty came slightly after 5pm. He made sure my bleeding had not been a lot and was settling down. He checked for areas of pain and prescribed me some antibiotics. He listed the various symptoms that would require me to call the ward over the weekends should I experience them. I asked about the possibility of perforation of the womb as I saw it in the letter they wanted me to pass to the GP. He said if my bleeding were normal, that would be the best indication that everything was all right. He elaborated that during the operation, my womb relaxed a little and that was when there was quite a fair bit or blood loss. But my womb has since contracted and it should be ok.
There was a funny incident here, if anything that happened could be called funny. I had said that I did not feel like passing urine (one of the criteria for discharge). He said I'd better do that before I was to leave. He said he's sure I had a full bladder because - "listen" - he then tapped at my upper abdomen: "sounds hollow?" and the lower abdomen: "hear the difference?". Okay, okay, Doctor, I get your point.
While waiting for my medicine, the nurse gave me my long-overdue refreshments of tea and some biscuits. I shared the biscuits with Ethan. I also had a bowl of soup and some sandwiches. I shared with Ethan the sandwiches. Jethro also had a bit of baby biscuits from our backpack and he seemed to cheer up after that. Especially after I changed back my clothes, he was willing to let me carry him again. I had been lying on the bed for 5 hours, the operation period not including, and found I had no difficulty getting out and walking about.
I felt so fine that I told Jianming we need not take a taxi (I was not to take public transport after GA). But Jianming insisted and that was probably a good decision as I felt a little sick on the taxi. Reaching home, it was already past 6pm and my decision to buy ready-made meals was probably a good one.

Blowing in the Wind
Because there was to be a funeral, I had to think of a name like, last minute. We finally named the baby 'Ninn'. I thought, it rhymed with 'wind' and also 'nymph'. I like the poem 'Do not stand at my grave and weep... I am the thousand winds that blow...'
Funeral services are provided free for children under 16. We had to pay £90 for the cremation. We had the funeral on Thursday at about 3pm. The afternoon before, we made our way to the funeral parlour at South Clerk Street to see the baby in a nice little coffin. We brought it flowers and letters we had written.
On Thursday at about 2.30pm, we were chauffeured in a limousine to Mortonhall Crematorium. It rained the whole day. Father Joseph from St Patrick's Church presided over a small service. It was hard not to feel sad and drop a few tears then, whatever your religion. We didn't see the coffin being moved into the crematorium. The ashes - being too little, we could not have it - would be scattered over the Remembrance Walkway. As it was a rainy day, we went home straight after the service.
I must add that Ethan actually cried at some point before the funeral. I am not sure how much he understood about death but I think he used to think people could wake up again after dying (and no, nothing of a religious nature here). Since we had to bring him to see the coffin, we have had to 'come clean' and he was a little traumatised by it. Ethan need not be aware, but for the way we chose to close this event.

Goodbye, Ninn
"What is blowing in the wind?"
"My ashes and others, Mummy."
"What is falling with the rain?"
"Our tears, dear baby."
It's been weeks since the operation. I sometimes count the days from the day the baby was no longer with me. But I am not doing that so often now. Things seemed to get back to normal right the next day after the operation. I no longer feel perpetually tired, or nauseated and am even getting back my itchiness to venture a little further out. In fact, physically, I feel a little rejuvenated. But the kids have been sick. It was to be another week before I started bringing Jethro to playgroups again. We began to get our routines back. Initially, I had felt a bit low at intervals, a kind of silent grief that suddenly arose out of no reason, but taking care of two boys and cooking really leave me no room, no time for immense grief, 'no time to stand and stare'.

Random thoughts like the river
Statistically, there is a 20-25% chance of first trimester miscarriages. That's quite a lot. Inevitably, you'd know someone or someone's friend who's had a miscarriage. The lady in the bed opposite me, for example. Before the operation, at the waiting room, I had heard her telling someone on the mobile phone how this was her third or fourth miscarriages. I thought she seemed strong, able to speak in such even tones about this. Having children clearly meant a lot to her for her to have tried so many times. Then in the ward, I heard it clearer, as she told the nurse, how she had had four pregnancies, three of which ended up in miscarriages. She has a son, 13 months old, called Rory.
Many of the people I know who had miscarriages were first-time pregnant. I can now feel how traumatic it must have been for them. Why did the fetus go on developing if it would have to stop soon anyhow? Why couldn't the egg and the sperm, when they first met, decide that this was just not going to work and abort it right then? So we'd never have to know.
But I know many of these mothers, especially since it was their first or second pregnancy, would go on to try to have another child, and many succeeded. They can then seek comfort in that child. But perhaps, at times, they can't help not thinking about the child they might have had. How old he/she would be now. And, looking at the healthy kid messing around in front of them, they imagine a scene that would never happen - that child that died in the womb, growing up and reaching for things like this one, toddling towards them, smiling innocently or mischievously, gabbling and crying for things. Then, perhaps the eyes can't help being a little wet then, or the nose a little red.
I must explain my enthusiasm for narrating such 'gory' details about my encounter with the NHS here. I have never had to deal with the medical community so intensively as I have had in my two years' stay here: Ethan's accident, my pregnancy, Jethro's neonatal stay, vaccinations and now this. And it was all an experience for me. I find that doctors here are generally tired-looking and stern, with just the bare show of geniality. But the nurses, midwives, health visitors here - they are great. Personable, approachable, experienced, comforting. The system may have its flaws, but the people make it perfect.
On the side table in the counselling room of the Pregnancy Support Centre, I saw these two lines:
"Some make it to flight and burst forth like butterflies
Some stay asleep in their cocoon. Both are equally loved."
I like to think my little -32-week-old baby has a spirit. That it is lightly floating about, here in Edinburgh. Its ashes remain in Edinburgh, but maybe its spirit will follow us home.

November Notes

2009-12-03T07:45:00.001+08:00

渐渐不觉得那么累，还兴致勃勃地想到处走走。可惜冬天日短夜长，又冷又刮大风，有时乌云下雨，两个小瓜也相续病了大半个月，出门的机会偏偏少了。靖恒和靖恺还是老样子：这阵子好像没什么注意他们，只管烦人的时候显得不耐烦，肆意地喊他们。靖恺进军厕所，总是趁我在洗衣服还是给靖恒冲凉时进去里面翻马桶盖，学大伙儿抽水。还有就是学靖恒尖叫，声音比靖恒的还刺耳。发脾气时躺在地上，或东歪西倒地撞墙撞地板，拿他没办法。靖恒则什么都在争第一，争先或最快，可能是跟男同学学的吧。再则就是叫他别做什么，讲到断气了还是好像听不懂/听不到似的，这就是所谓的耳边风吧。

“妈妈老爱唠叨，我还是设法寻找乐趣。。。

或是跟哥哥玩也不错。”

Monday & Thursday Playgroup at St Peter's Church:

Tuesday Women's Club:

Wednesday playgroup at Southside Community Education Centre (Sunshine Club):

Squashity squash

Christmas cheer at Princes Street and Christmas Tree Lighting at The Mound:

Wondering about Princes Street the following evening.
The Christmas Tree from Hordaland at The Mound:

German Market:

Marks & Spencer window display:

Jenner's window display:

Christmas Carousel for Ethan again:

Stirling Castle on St Andrew's Day Open Weekend.
Before the fog really came in:

The Great Hall:

Here comes the fog!

The Royal Chapel:

The world in white (alas, not by snow!):

The Great Kitchen:

The Stirling Castle as I remember from long ago starts here (without the fog):

Ethan met Jay here, who had just arrived with his parents and brother.

He wanted to stay here to wait for Jay, but we convinced him it would not really work out (unless they decided to forego the hall, the kitchen, the chapel, the museum and start with the outer walls first):

Walking past the garden (which is barren now):

The Palace, which was under refurbishment:

The fog was so thick we only got to see the tip of the Ochil Hills. The fog gave a very, well... British, dismal, ghostly atmosphere to the place:

Argyll's Lodging (which was also free admission during the Open Weekend):

Playing with the canon...

Stirling town and railway:

Knowing we are going back soon, the Malay family invited us over for lunch on Sunday. We missed the events at the museum, but Ethan had fun with Aiman and Jethro, well, Jethro also had fun. We had such a nice time that I am raring to try some Halal dishes and invite them over another day.

We tried to see if we could catch some events at the museum (Scotland's year-long Homecoming celebration finale was held at 27-30 November, 30 Nov being St Andrew's Day). But we missed it all - the music and the ceilidh.

Scottish Music at McEwan Hall. We stayed for 30 minutes out of the 1.5 hr of performance (7.30-9pm) because Ethan had gone to sleep and I was worried Jethro would. Jethro amazed me with his wide-awake eyes despite having only a 30 minute afternoon nap when I was bringing him to fetch Ethan from the nursery.

There are significantly fewer photos this month (apart from the few occasions when we went out) because it is getting harder to catch those flitting moments of happy or amusing flicks; because as the days get shorter, the days with the orange light grow longer, so the photos don't turn out so well under the dim lighting; because the kids are more clingy and whiny often than not. Still, I think they are quite neglected, I should be nicer. Despite their sometimes-difficult behaviours, I should also remember that Ethan does treat Jethro as a friend (along with Lorien, downstairs Robert, Ibrahim and others - he told me so), and Jethro is trying to play Ethan's games.

Seeing A Pantomine With Ethan

2009-11-29T06:41:00.011+08:00

I decided we must, really must choose a show to watch. Of the three children's show available at this time of the year, Sinbad The Pantomine Featuring The Little Mermaid seemed the most desirable. So we spent £25 on two tickets for the 21 November, 2pm. On top of that, this time, the show was not held at somewhere within walking distance like the Festival Theatre, but at Brunton Theatre in Musselburgh. So we had to take a bus there.
So, on Saturday, leaving Jethro in the good hands of Jianming, the two of us left for Musselburgh. As we had to change buses, despite the short bus journey, it still took us about 1 hour to reach there and we were nearly late. It was a rainy Saturday but it was cheery in the theatre, with so many children and parents accompanying their kids.
Barely 15 minutes into the show however, Ethan was crying to get out. It was the evil Sea Witch. He didn't like bad guys, you see. He was also appalled by this big guy impersonating as a woman, but I quickly pointed out to him that 'Saucy Nancy' was a good character. But I couldn't do much about the Sea Witch. Not in the theatre itself anyway. So, half an hour later, unable to bear his cries any more, we left the show.
Ethan wanted to go home then, or go somewhere else. But I couldn't forget the £25 + £3 for bus fare. So I tried all means to persuade him to watch it again. I tried:
1. chocolate - he ate it and still wanted to leave.
2. "There are songs and good people in the show too. Don't you want to know the story?"
3. "Let's see how they fight the evil Sea Witch. It will be a happy ending."
4. "You need a bad guy so the story is more interesting."
5. "The bad guy is really not a bad guy in reality. She's actually a nice lady pretending to be a bad guy. After the show, she will be a nice lady again."
6. "This is not a cartoon on the computer. We can only watch it this time, now. Don't want to watch, no more. No such things as next time then watch."
One or a combination of these arguments must have worked on him, for he agreed to go back to the theatre. Phew!
We didn't go back to our seats, however. Ethan absolutely refused to. There was a railing at the back, behind which sat a row of elderlies. Ethan stood behind the railing to watch. Poor me had to kneel, squat, even sit on the floor, beside him, for the sake of my £25.
Then there was the interval. As we walked down the steps again, he said now we could go home. I told him this was just the interval, the story hadn't finished yet. He looked at all the people going down the stairs as well and said, "They are going home too." I didn't know whether to laugh or sigh as I explained that they would go back to the show after the interval.
Down there, they were selling Di Rollo ice cream. I have always tried very hard to avoid giving sweet treats to Ethan just to get him to do something, but this time I must be really desperate: "I will buy you an ice cream, but you must go back up after the interval." Ethan did not say anything. After some time - we were in the queue - he said, "No, I want to go home." "Then no ice cream! Why do I buy ice cream for you if you want to go home already?" I said. Finally, he agreed to stay for the show.
While eating ice cream, we talked about the bad witch a little more. He was calmer by then and I felt quite sure he would continue with the show. He wanted to see how they would fight the witch.
We went back up, I realised there was a wide seat that was unoccupied in the same row as the elderlies. So Ethan and I shared a seat there. We didn't get to see any fighting. This was a rather mild children's panto actually. The witch decided to be good in the end, when Neptune the Sea God was resurrected. So it was a happy ending for everyone. It's good that Ethan stayed to the end and got to see the witch become 'good'. There was an action dance at the end and he was quite ready to join in (needless to say, I had to, as well). I also explained to him when all the actors and actresses came out to bow to the audience, how they were all just ordinary, good people like all of us, and were only 'pretending' in the panto.
So overall, it turned out to be a good experience, I suppose, for both of us.

Ethan after the show at the Brunton Theatre (yes, there were 2 Christmas trees):

We made a short detour to River Esk for a little while:

How Young We Are

2009-11-09T16:21:00.003+08:00

Ethan wrote these numbers.
He said, "4 is Ethan, 55 ('five five') is Daddy and Mummy and 1 is Jethro."
I had a strong suspicion what he meant, but I still wanted to make sure. So I asked him, "What does 5 mean?" He gave some random answer.
So I tried again,"Why am I 5?"
This time he said it: "Because you are 5."
"5 years old?" I grinned. He nodded.
"Is 5 bigger than 4?"
"Yeah," was the immediate reply.

Oh For A Break!

2009-11-02T16:45:00.048+08:00

Almost everyday, after a morning of preparing ingredients for lunch and dinner, seeing Ethan to nursery (usually by Jianming but occasionally by me if I need to buy grocery), bringing Jethro to playgroups, fetching Ethan back from nursery on my way back, cooking and feeding everyone, I will sit on the floor against the couch and attempt to read a story book. I don't sit on the chair itself because if Jethro wants me to hold him, he'll be able to touch the things on the chest of drawers next to it. He is less inclined to ask me to hold him when I am on the floor.
Invariably the 'reading' is interrupted in short intervals by:
1. Jethro screaming next door (either he can't get something out from under the bed or he hurts himself or Ethan has done something in retaliation to Jethro's doing something)
2. Jethro in the kitchen for more than 30 secs (then I have to go and see if he's touched the untouchables such as some eerie nooks and crannies or worse, worse and a thousand times worse, the rubbish bin)
3. Ethan screaming next door (usually because of what Jethro has just done to his toys, to his drawings etc...)
4. Jethro going into the toilet instead of next door (we usually close the toilet door so he won't be tempted to go in - closing the toilet door can't stop him if he really wants to - but sometimes we forget)
5. changing nappies
6. everything being too quiet and peaceful for more than 5 mins
7. administering to a myriad of various small things
I am this 'relaxed' because I am waiting for Jethro to feel tired and go (cry) to sleep. If this doesn't happen, a bottle of milk when the time comes and he has to! Sometimes after playgroups, he falls asleep for that half an hour on the way back and I can expect him not to feel sleepy till evening, in which case I have to prevent him from falling asleep in an agitated state on my part ("No, Jethro, don't sleeeeeep!").
I rely on Ethan alot really. To keep Jethro happy mainly (unconsciously on his part by just doing what he does every day, every minute, every second), to sometimes help me shepherd him from the kitchen or toilet, to sometimes shout out warnings of what mischief the bugger is up to when out of my line of sight.
Of course, Ethan is not helpful when I am trying to get Jethro to go to sleep or when they are fighting over the same toy or when he's whining for something himself, but one can't always have one's cake and eat it, can one?

Photos at the playground taken by my sis. After a short while, there was a huge downpour which sent us scuttling back. What's worse was that we did not bring along the rain cover for the buggy due to the sunny weather earlier.

A walk in Princes' Street Gardens after seeing my sis off at the train station.

Jethro being too helpful:
Daddy says: "No, Jethro, I don't want to wash them. Give them to your brother." x times.

Wiping his toys. We've got to find a cleaner cloth for him.

Activities at the museum:
Soap carving. Jianming's was very deeply carved and detailed, but he didn't have time to finish. Mine was sort of completed but not well-defined enough and way out of my original design. Ethan's well... more like etching really. It was meant to be a car.

Drawing your face in a spaceman helmet in celebration of the 40th anniversary of the first man on the moon.

Just walking around. The museum is Ethan's favourite destination.

Ethan the hippie pirate. I have a video of him singing a song about Jesus (inspired by VeggieTales) which suddenly, unaccountably, changes into a song about pirates but I am just not good at putting up videos.

Ethan the monster

Autumn trees and a walk (to Farmer's Market on a Saturday morning)

The Flodden Wall, an ancient relic. Life in Edinburgh in olden times is rather well documented and seeing these remains of the ancient past seems to make one feel closer to the lives of people long dead.

'Babysitter' Ethan

Old MacDonald had a farm... Old MacDonald had a zoo...

The fascination with hats:

Waiting for his share

Fun with Joshua and his toys

An afternoon out with Ethan (Jethro napping and Jianming typing):

(he thinks that by covering my eyes with his hands I won't be able to take his picture...)

"I won't say too much..."

2009-10-21T15:46:00.011+08:00

Jethro has just fallen asleep for his afternoon nap. I read Mini Grey's "Traction Man meets Turbodog" to Ethan and tell him I would go take a short rest after reading. Of course, I can't expect a long nap with Jethro asleep but Ethan bursting with energy, so just a short 10-mins lie-down is luxury for me. Ethan seems fascinated by the pictures in the story book and asks me about the greenish 'Germo' spray that Traction Man was using just before I leave him.

Unfortunately for me, not one minute after my 'lying down', Ethan climbs onto my bed and starts telling me about this special spray he has.
"It's got many colours. But I won't tell you all the colours, just one colour. Because Jethro is asleep and I don't want to wake him up," he whispers.
"Umm, umm," I nod my head.
Still softly: "There's pink... blue... yellow... erm... I won't get to black because I don't want to wake up Jethro."
Starting to repeat: "There's red... green... blue... pink..."
He continues to describe his wonderful spray (I have forgotten most of what he said then).

Next, he snuggles into the duvet beside me, pops his head out and then tells me, "I am 'hood-head'* hiding coz I am not really hiding. Only nearly hiding."
"Sorry, what was that?" I pucker my eyebrows.
"'Hood-head' hiding. Nearly hiding but not really hiding."
I have to ask him a few more times before I realise it's a new word he invented. We had a 'discussion' the other day about what constituted hiding. Basically I was trying to explain to him that one was not really hiding if he just covered up his eyes and could not see anything himself but the rest of his body remained exposed for all but the blindest to see.

Anyway, so much for my coveted 10-mins' rest. And the situation repeats. Ethan just can't seem to be by himself for long nowadays. Maybe because it's half-term and he lacks the stimulation from his classmates and teachers, or maybe because the days have turned dreary as winter approaches? Who knows. I only know there goes my little quiet time.

* I can't remember his exact pronunciation already. Anyway these days, seems like I can't catch his Scottish pronunciation more and more.

Culross

2009-10-09T15:32:00.012+08:00

My sis came over for the weekend and we took a whirlwind trip to Culross, a village about 1 hour's ride north of Edinburgh and by the Firth of Forth. And what a whirlwind it was. We set out after lunch, reached there about 2 hours later (given the driving, and having made a few wrong turns), spent about 2 hours exploring the little village where almost everything was closed, and then drove back home. It was also a very windy day, with the wind speed at around 60 mph, and very cold. When I first got out of the car, I just wanted to get back in again. Took me some courage to get out again. I didn't even wish to venture near the coast, so all the coastal pictures were taken by my sis.

Sis's photos:

Open Days Month

2009-10-02T16:30:00.001+08:00

So I stopped pumping. No more waking up in the middle of the night! I expected I should have more restful sleep and feel more energetic during the day. Yet it has not appeared to be so. Later nights on occasions, Jethro waking up in the middle of not a few nights and requiring one or two hours to sooth back to sleep, activities almost every weekend (In September, every weekend, parts of Scotland had Open Days, where some buildings normally closed are opened to the public, but we did not go out every weekend for this: there were other events.), all added to make me a rather sleepy person most of the day.

Autumn is certainly here. In the beginning of September, with the bright days and cooling air, one can still stubbornly insist that summer's still here. Gradually, however, the leaves change colours and the weather grows perceptibly colder and nights come in earlier, whether you want it or not, autumn has arrived.

At home:
This baby still doesn't know how to bite food, even if he does bite many other non-foods.

"Mummy, look! '4'!", says a gleeful Ethan.

Jethro trying to say something?

Unstoppable.

Walk to Duddingston Village:

3 kids at the playground (the one with Lorien):

New Lanark:

Blackford Hill and the Royal Observatory:

National Museum of Scotland with Viking event:

Edinburgh Open Day:
Reid Concert Hall and museum

Museum of Fire

Just a view

St Cecilia's Hall and museum

John Knox House

Calton Hill and Nelson Monument

What's Wrong with Jethro

2009-09-23T04:59:00.004+08:00

These days, Jethro, he cries alot. What I think, he is

1. frustrated
Can't walk properly, cries when he falls. Can't get into the walker properly, cries when both legs are in the same hole, or when the knees go in first and get stuck there. Can't reach for things he can see. Being withheld from touching things within his reach. Pushed by Ethan. Blocked by Ethan. What a lot of frustrations for a single day!

2. angry at
a. lack of attention
I am always not around. Ethan is hardly a good soother, though he does entertain sometimes. Jethro is quite neglected.
b. being forced to eat
Spits out food if fed too fast. Appetite reduced by one third and it has become very hard to get him to complete his meal, as compared to the days before 'these days'. One meal now takes twice the time to finish (or for me to accept defeat).

3. a fussy eater
Started introducing more lumpy, more adult-like food for him as he turned one. Then he had a regression and now refuses to eat things that need much chewing. He spits them out. Back to porridge, back to 10, 11-month-old days.

4. bored
He sees his brother moving among the various rooms freely, and he's stuck in this one room. The toys in this room never change! He's bored after a morning of them. He cries.

5. tired
Usually waking up at around 7-8 am, he only takes one afternoon nap now. But that makes him rather tired around late morning and evening. And grouchy. And frustrated. And clingy. And easily bored...

6. sick
He's been sick - had a temperature a few days ago, is still coughing. Nose is less runny, but seems to be having diarrhoea now. Maybe this can explain some of the bothersome behaviours above? Dare I hope that he'll be a nicer baby when he's well?

Like his brother.

Ethan's been almost a ray of sunshine. He also had his fever, diarrhoea, low appetite, whiny moments for a few days. But now he seems well, eats a lot, and is in a good mood most of the day. Of course he has his tantrums and characteristic misbehaviours still, but on the whole, he has been most co-operative, most joyous and rowdy, and not too fussy about food.

Oh, children! They do take turns, who says they don't?

The Road Goes On and On...

2009-09-12T01:31:00.014+08:00

I lashed out at Ethan twice, two days in a row, in public, under the watchful eyes of the Scottish adults, who no doubt wondered if they should report me for child abuse. And for almost the same reason.

Incident #1
I went to fetch Ethan back from the nursery. He wanted to play with his new-found friend, Jay, in the nursery garden, and wouldn't leave till Jay also began to leave. Then they ran together along the pavement, hiding at the shop front doors, playing hide and seek with their mothers (one of them is me, but I don't play). At a corner, Jay turned left and continued running, stopping now and then to hide. Ethan ran with him, sometimes running further ahead. I called to Ethan to come back, we are going home. I smiled resignedly at Jay's mother. I wanted to stop and wait for him to discover that I was gone, and panicked. But a hunch told me that wild as he was then and in the company of a friend, this would not work until they were far, far away. Alright for Jay, he's running in the right direction for going back to his home. Not so Ethan, not so me-who's-chasing-after-Ethan. Finally, I could stand it no longer and started to run. Jay's mother started running with me, pushing the buggy with her younger son, who has the same birthday as Jethro. Carrying Jethro in the sling, I ran past Edinburgh Bargain Store, past the butcher, past the fish monger, till I nearly reached Ethan, and screamed, "靖恒！Stop!" I was angry, I sounded furious. Ethan burst into big tears. Behind me, I could see Jay's mother talking sternly to Jay. Maybe she was also shocked at witnessing this terrible side of me. Oh, I didn't care. I had Ethan turn round to face homeward at last. A subdued Ethan walked back with me, a puzzled Jay waved goodbye to him and he's still sobbing. I scolded him a little, threatening him with no more after-nursery play if he does not listen to me next time. But, somehow, I could not bring myself to be that angry with him. Maybe I recall a little how it was like to be his age.

Incident #2
I took Ethan and Jethro to the playgrounds at The Meadows. There, he met his 'long-lost' friend, Lorien. Both seemed excited to meet each other. Lorien was full of things to do, and Ethan happily went where she went.
He even tried the Flying Fox which I had to persuade him a lot to get on at Dalkeith Country Park's Adventure Playground. Lorien got onto the standing platform while I wasn't looking, but Ethan just couldn't climb up! While I was debating whether to go and help him, Lorien stretched out her hand and said, "Come, I'll pull you up!" Ethan did and sure enough, he very nearly pulled Lorien down with him. Luckily she was agile enough and held onto the railings. I quickly went over. I wasn't very keen on his trying out this time because I was holding Jethro and did not savour the notion of helping him onto the seat single-handed, and I couldn't possibly run with him this time. But this was a smaller one and it was quite easy to get him onto it. He went off by himself without calling for help but fell off at the rebound. It looked like an ugly fall, despite being on soft ground, but oh, how could he cry in front of his favourite girl?
He also climbed onto the rope pyramid cum merry-go-round though he did not reach the pinnacle as Lorien did. Good enough. He also told a boy to stop spinning the merry-go-round as they were getting down.
They sat at one of those little chairs under the slide structure and talked. He ran to me when he somehow hurt himself and had a bleeding tongue. But he drank a bit of water and was soon gone looking for Lorien.
They ran about on the grass and he came to me holding two yellow daisies, one with yellow petals and one with dead petals, to give to me. (How sweet the influence of little girls!) I passed the wilted one to Jethro and he threw it on the floor, then looked at the yellow one with interest. I picked up the one on the floor and passed it to him. He took it, threw it on the floor, and looked up at the yellow one. I picked it up again, passed it to him, and he took it, threw it and looked up again... Anyway, you get the idea. My life was definitely much less interesting than Ethan's at that point.
There is this thing about the playpark that makes me wonder about the mind behind the design of this place. There are two 'official' gates and then, at one point in the fence or hedges surrounding the little haven, there is a tunnel made of metal. It allows children to scramble out of the fenced area by burrowing through the tunnel. Towards there Lorien and Ethan gravitated, and the second time they went there, they were out when I next turned my head. I began to trace the occasional appearance of their clothes through the hedges as they ran along the perimeter, on the other side. A friendly man pointed to me where they were and thanking him (though his help was not needed), I went to one corner of the playpark to call them back. But by the time I reached there, they were running further away, past the toilets and towards the big gate of the Meadows, leading out to the roads.
You may wonder, at this time: where was Lorien's mother? She was around, somewhere. She appeared to me to be a rather laid back parent, only interfering a little at the Flying Fox. Most of the time, she sat around, though she changed places, no doubt to be near one of her two children. While Lorien and Ethan were running out of the Meadows gate and into the great wide world outside, she was nowhere near me.
So, I bellowed, then and there, at the top of my voice and pitch: "靖恒！靖恒！Stop! Get back here!" Ethan turned around. He probably could sense me fuming. So he started crying. Lorien seemed oblivious and ran on. I shouted out a weaker "Lorien!" But she ran out of the gate. Getting really worried this time, I ran towards the gate (of the playpark). By the time I was out of the gate and could see Ethan again, Lorien was out of sight. The friendly man proved to be invaluable this time round. He climbed out of the fence that I had not the physical ability to do while carrying Jethro. I was running, carrying Jethro, holding Ethan's hand, towards the gate, not knowing if I would be able to get to Lorien in time before some mishap occurs. The man offered to run after her. I reached the gate and saw him pick up Lorien, crying for "Mummy". He carried her to me, put her down, and told her to hold Ethan's hand. Together, holding hands, we went back to the playground. I attempted miserably to console Lorien.
I couldn't see her mother. I started wondering if I had to bring her back to our flat or somehow, with her help, bring her home, when, with great relief, I saw her mother coming towards us, with Lorien's brother at her side. In a voice that bespoke she knew nothing of what had just happened (or might have happened) to her daughter, she told Lorien they were going home. "Say goodbye to Ethan." Calmly and quietly.
I debated whether to tell her mother about it. But Lorien had calmed down by then and since I did not know her mother, I decided not to. Lorien handed a branch with three big leaves to Ethan. Then, probably deciding she really couldn't bear to part with those leaves, she took them back while showing him which was the the back and which was the front of the leaves. She was walking away when she plucked one leave off the branch and gave it to Ethan.
We were walking back when Ethan asked about the flowers he passed to me earlier. (It's my fault, I had asked him where his leaf was first, and he showed me where he had placed it - in the basket under the buggy.)Proudly, I showed him the one with the yellow petals. He then asked about the other one. I had to tell him the truth - it was wilted so I let Jethro play with it and it was left at the playground. He was not convinced that being wilted justify my giving it to Jethro. Fearing a meltdown, I made myself sound righteous. Then, somehow he got to talking about the flowers Lorien gave to her mother, and a danger was averted. Hey, shouldn't he be the one cowering in fear of me, for landing himself in a dangerous situation a second time? But somehow, again, I couldn't bring myself to remain angry after the instance was over. I can be irrationally angry with him for touching the metal strainer in our toilet sink, but not this.
Anyway, we reached home, I breathed a sigh of relief, and then another one to catch my breadth.

Horses and Fireworks

2009-09-11T05:57:00.015+08:00

Last Sunday, we were crazy enough to bring Ethan and Jethro out at 9pm to watch fireworks (courtesy of Bank of Scotland Fireworks Concert). We were not near the Ross Theatre in Princes Street Gardens where the concert was performed, so we could only watch the fireworks in the absence of the music. There were a few places which gave good views of the fireworks and also broadcast the concert, such as Inverleith Park, Calton Hill and Waverly Bridge (which was close enough to hear the concert without broadcasting), but as it was the boys' bed times, we didn't want to make the uphill walk to Calton Hill or back from Waverly Bridge (Inverleith Park is just too far). So we watched it near The Mound.

Ethan had been very excited about the night outing when we were getting there. Half an hour later, he was wearing a sleepy look. Another 15 mins later, having two sleeping kids, I felt I have fulfilled enough of my desire to see the fireworks. So we made the journey back. I had the easier job of pushing Jethro in his buggy while Jianming carried Ethan, definitely not a light task now!

Earlier in the day, we did the saner thing of watching horse riding around St Giles Church and seeing them pile off back to their stables. This was the Edinburgh Riding of the Marches, a festival dating back hundreds of years but only revived this year after a hiatus of 60 years. We only saw the end of it because the earlier part of the day was spent in church and then lunch and then well, just plain deliberation as to whether to get out to see it or not.

I'll put up the photos in chronological sequence.

The octopus was made by a 'Puffin' man when we stopped by Grassmarket. He did it for free, but I wonder if the Grassmarket Group might have paid him to do this, since they were rather elaborate balloon sculptures. We saw him make several crowns, with swords, two swans in a ring, flowers, and as we were about to go, something that seemed like it would turn out to be a dolphin.

It's Been A Year

2009-09-06T05:50:00.002+08:00

八月的爱丁堡是很热闹的，有许多庆典。我们带靖恒观看了三个儿童戏剧和两个讲故事/谈故事书的节目，也看了一些街边表演。

八月底和九月初庆祝了两个小的的生日，仍然觉得他们没什么变到。靖恒还是老样子，吵啊冲的。靖恺还是爱到处摸，到处咬。靖恒开学换了教室，虽然交了新朋友，但仍忘不了他的好朋友，有点不适应。靖恺可以站得比较久，偶尔还踏出一小步，生日那天更尝试走了几步，表情喜滋滋的。两个小瓜在一起的吵闹声更多了，我就更加凶啦！不过，靖恺也开始会跟靖恒玩，有时候笑着听靖恒跟他讲的大道理，好像听得懂似的。

1/8: Busy Grassmarket fair:

Playground, where Ethan fell again and Jethro tasted a variety of things:

One each so there's no need to fight:

2/8: Jazz at Princes Street Gardens

Ice lollies

Captain Two-Skulls and his crew of one:

8/8: The evening after a visit to the swimming pool (not a particularly enjoyable one), Jethro fell asleep at the Meadows, Ethan had his wish of a picnic dinner:

What's with that look?

This is better:

13/8: The crocodile is the result of an attempt at some quality time with Ethan, but I ended up doing most of it and boring Ethan to tears. He liked the result though. Now, where is the crocodile?

Not contented with putting stuffs into the drawer, he decided to Put himself in:

不雅观：

Reach!

Looking down Victoria Street (Grassmarket):

A tight squeeze:

Rummaging the cupboard:

Jethro's Tower of Pisa:

Up and Down:

Not relaxed?

22/8: International Book Festival (15 - 31/8) at Charlotte Square (Ethan went to 2 story telling sessions (by Marie Louise Cochrane and Mini Grey). Here we have a serious pose and a silly one. No prizes for guessing which is which.

Hmm and Zzzz:

I can't imagine what they were doing:

Reverse parking!

Birthday treats for Ethan:

30/8: Ceilidh at the museum and exploring the Garden Detectives exhibits, and Jethro found a new friend:

(Hee hee, I like these:)

(There, that's him! The friend, silly!)

And onto Jethro's birthday special:

It's the month of festivals. We took Ethan to watch 'Burglar Bill', 'Treasure Island' and 'Miss Googiepants and Cat' at the Fringe Festival and also to two 22 Aug events at the International Book Festival. Of course, there were also the free jazz weekend during the Jazz and Blues Festival and the entertainers for the Fringe Festival performing extracts of their shows at the Royal Mile.

Ethan adopted an alter ego this month. He's Ethan Super Hooper. According to him, a super hooper is really fantastic. He can:
1. fly
2. do complicated acrobatics without falling down
3. be excused from being bad
4. help people
5. fight bad guys with a sword that goes 'splish! splash!' (??)
And the list goes on.

As for Jethro, besides the usual biting things, he also loves to:
1. put things in a box, container etc. (if only he doesn't turn it over at the next instant.)
2. clap hands
3. close and open window shutters (but mostly he likes to keep them closed)
4. sit between the door and the barrier, where he cannot see anyone (and so probably rightly thinks no one can see him.)
5. thwart our attempts to keep things out of his reach (such as raising the shelf level higher - he only grows taller and stretches further; covering drawers with empty rice sack - he only manages to find out how to pull it off)
6. push the walker to and fro the short length of the room, laughing gleefully as he does it, even if he sometimes falls to his knees and ends up using his knees to move forward (confounds me every time he's still so adamant about continuing pushing)
7. crawls away very fast when he sees that you are going to change his nappy

Also, I find I am getting more and more of a nag each day, as Ethan just blatantly ignores my requests/demands unless I threaten him with something. It can really blow my top off.

But children do have their endearing moments. Like how Ethan can still catch us by surprise in the 'sensible' things he says. One recent morning, when Jianming complained that Ethan woke up too early, Ethan said, "That's why you need to have a good night's sleep." Very wise indeed. Like how Jethro seems to understand your yes/no questions by shaking or nodding his head with a pensive smile. Like how Ethan lectures Jethro on how 'things are done', often amusing the adults unintentionally. Like how Jethro nods or shakes his head and waves his hands to the music he likes. Like how Ethan sometimes, in that rare burst of insight, does things just the way you would want him to, without your asking. Like how Jethro waves goodbye to you in his own way when you wave goodbye to him, then cries as he sees you leave.

One Bloody Job

2009-08-16T02:40:00.001+08:00

The fish feels firm. Too firm. Oh s**t. The innards are still in the fish! I know I should have requested it. But usually the fish monger would ask me if I wanted to, and all I needed to do was to nod my head and say "Yes, please". This time the lady didn't ask (I should have noticed it was the lady, not the guy), and I passively, stupidly, assumed it's done. Next time I have to be more 'market savvy'. But this time. Sigh, what must be done must be done. Right, get on with the job.

Firstly, a slit to cut open the fish. Next - can I just scrape those reddish, lumpy, squashy things off with my knife? Oh no, this sinewy thing is too tough. I have to use my hands. And it just keeps slipping off my hand. And... erm, are those the gills? Let me see... No, I don't recall seeing gills in cooked fish, so out with those too. Eeeks! There, done. Easier with the hands really. Oh why, oh why is the mouth open now?? Those membranous stuff under the lower lip (do you call them lips?), do I remove them too? Oh heck, why not? Now, to wash off those dark reddish left overs... What a bloody business. Literally. Maybe not as bloody as childbirth, but I didn't see much blood then anyway, or at least I had chosen not to. Terrible, terrible beginning to the day! Thank goodness the scales have been removed. Or maybe there wasn't any scale in the first place? I wouldn't have known. Now, all that is left is how to cook this mackerel. (In the end, I baked it with butter, lemon, salt, pepper and paprika - basically whatever I have at my hands that appear to go well with fish.)

So, next time, be more mean, more demanding, and really assertive, please.

Oh. Dear.

2009-08-15T05:07:00.002+08:00

I thought I couldn't stand it any longer, so I decided to give it a little snip. Got carried a little too far away, and now I want those hair back!

Fireman Ethan Episode #2 - cut short

2009-08-12T05:54:00.004+08:00

There our hero was, in his helmet, all ready to slide down the pole and climb into his fire engine, gearing up for some action early in the morning. (The 'pole' was one leg of the kitchen table, and it stumped me when I first found out that that was the pole - I had begun scolding him for playing with the table, of all things.)

Then he noticed the packet of mixed chewy gums on the table, placed conspicuously at one corner by Jianming the night before.

Fireman Ethan had to stop. He picked up the kiddy pack and started to explore it, further exploring the idea of devouring what's inside.

Hence our fireman became a child of the mundane world once more, with no greater ambition or more heroic acts than to be the ultimate conqueror of the colourful sweets in his hands.

Ethan the Fireman to the Rescue

2009-08-08T05:11:00.004+08:00

This is narrated by Jianming, and seriously, I would rather he tell it here himself. Anyway, here goes (Conversation re-enacted by me likely are not exact, but does contain the essence of it. Oh yes, and you have to imagine that Ethan was using a deeper and no-nonsense voice, a tone he always adopts when he's a fireman.):

Jianming was having a really bad time trying to humour a humourless and crying Jethro. Ethan the fireman drove by in his fire engine. He stopped.
EtF: Do you need any help?
JtDF: Yes, I need help with the crying baby.
EtF: Ok.
He got out of his fire engine, looked at the situation with arms akimbo, assessing it.
EtF: Hmm, I think we need something.
He turned around and went to the window, under which stood the tractor, and brought it over. He flipped the tractor over to the side, then turned the wheel that was facing upwards, so that it spun and spun.
Jethro stopped crying and amused himself with the spinning wheel, as he had on other occasions when Ethan also turned the tractor on its side (Ethan liked to think that the side-lying tractor was some kind of engine).
Mission accomplished.

Key:
EtF - Ethan the Fireman
JtDF - Jianming the Distressed Father

Another month gone by...

2009-08-02T05:15:00.008+08:00

靖恺应该不会在一岁之前走路，因为他现在才开始尝试自己站着，可以站三秒钟吧。靖恺倒是更调皮了。当他看到吸引他的东西时，他会嬉皮笑脸地朝我望一望，好像知道我会不同意他将要做的事，然后兴奋地转过头（去拉电线，摸电脑，爬抽屉等）。
7月靖恒开始放假。乘靖恺睡午觉的时间，我尝试教他写英文字母，念唐诗（为了让他说华语），真是考尽我的耐性！

the night I disturbed my sleeping brother:

the day we fought over the car (after posing for the camera):

the day we read on the bed:

what I must do everyday, more than once - rummage books:

the day I played hide-and-seek:

the day I stared - as my brother ate - beyond my reach:

say 'cheese'!

the night I was on my brother's bed:

the lure of the blue light:

I don't say 'cheese':

the day they made cookies (without me!):

"I am not showing you my asymmetrically-grown teeth!"

the day when it's all about trees (TreeFest 18-19 Jul 09 at Inverleith Park):

"I... shall... sur...mount... you!"

the days we looked good together:

Lorien's birthday party at Gorgie City Farm (they made the card without me! I would love to make a card too. It must be very delicious.):

my brother, His Royal Highness (I don't care, I am busy):

the evening of the tractor pedalling:

the day my brother sucked lollipop in front of me (so I did too, I think):

the evening my brother demonstrated teeth brushing to me (seems like it's going to be my turn soon):

the - no, MY - car gym:

on my brother's bed again:

the day my brother went to the National Museum of Scotland, where there were a Garden Detectives exhibition and some rocket stuff (without me again!):

the day my daddy's tummy became my drum:

the day my brother posed (and I didn't):

Don't think Jethro will start walking by one year old. He's barely trying to stand on his own now. Perhaps because I clapped my hands when I was encouraging him to stand on his own, he likes to clap his hands when he managed to stand for about 3 seconds. He's also got this cheeky smile which he flashed at you just before he was about to embark on something of a disapproving nature, like pulling the wires, touching the computer etc.
Ethan, into his second month of summer break, almost daily spent the couple of hours when Jethro was asleep slogging with me on ABCs writing and Chinese poems recitation (with no greater ambition than to get him to speak some Mandarin). I conclude that academic teaching is best left to the teachers. Such sessions with him always left me rather spent at the end, reminding how I have long ago learnt that teaching is not a job for me (my sis will undoubtedly attest to that).

Recorded below are some amusing things said by Ethan:

(suddenly, from the toilet where he was making big business)
"I was in your stomach with Jethro playing together."

(while chit chatting during tea time)
"I cannot see the round earth, I can only see the flat earth."
"Who taught you that?"
"Nobody did."
"Really? Not Daddy? Or your teachers?"
"No. 'Coz some of the things you don't need people to teach you, some of the things you need."

(in the morning - I am not sure what he was trying to say, but it was just after he had a bout of stomachaches a day or two ago)
"My stomach wants to sleep but the morning wake up me so my stomach is grumbling."

(referring to Jethro, after chiding him for not eating properly - "You must eat like me." I have even more question marks about this mysterious remark.)
"He's a question mark baby."

(from the nursery)
"You must try and learn and practise."

"Twinkle, twinkle, traffic lights,
Down by station shining lights.
Red means stop, green means go,
Amber means very slow.
Twinkle, twinkle, chocolate bar,
My dad has a rusty car."

St Andrews

2009-07-27T17:20:00.003+08:00

So Jianming drove for the first time here ... to St Andrews, where there is a direct bus connection to Edinburgh anyway. And because he's not sure of the area, we parked at a long stay free car park at one end of the town, which is next to the bus station. Well, at least it should require a shorter time compared to a bus journey, you might say. Well, no. We travelled at pretty safe speeds (and I am not complaining), and made a few wrong turnings. In the end, it took about the same time. We also didn't have time to drive along the coast to see the East Neuk villages either, but I have always known that was too ambitious a plan of mine. That's not to say we didn't gain anything from self-drive (or rather, Jianming-drive). For one thing, there was no need to bother about bus times. And another thing, I experienced first-hand the horror of travelling with a 10+ months old strapped to a car seat that's getting too small for him, which put back all thoughts of longer road trips.

So I got out of Lothian and was in the Kingdom of Fife for a day! Jianming said St Andrews felt like Cambridge. Certainly there are the old town buildings and the oldest university in Scotland. But I felt that the similarity ends there. St Andrews has a beach and cathedral and castle ruins. It will never be a dead town when the students have gone home for the summer. Families are everywhere, at the beaches, at the play area, at the shopping streets. That's not to say I like St Andrews better. Of course I don't. Did I mention about GOLF? It goes to show how much interest we have in the game that we saw neither the famed Old Course nor the Golf Museum in the very home of Golf.

We finally got Ethan to take off his shoes and play in the sand and feel the waves lapping at his feet. But he went a bit overboard with the sand. Maybe next time we can bring him to the Portobello beach in Edinburgh. There really is no need to come all the way to St Andrews to enjoy the beach, is there? Even if it does have the Blue Flag award.

Thank You

2009-07-24T06:20:00.000+08:00

Thank you, Ethan, for being a wonderful boy today. Your father is away, and your behaviour has been exemplary.
You did not whine much, nor make too much noise while I was feeding your brother (Apart from towards the end of feeding, when from the room next door came some engine-like sounds made obviously by you, getting louder and more and more continuously. When later I asked you what noise you were making, you said you weren't making any noises, just drawing. When I asked you what you drew, you said you would show me later as we were having tea then. Later you showed me some drawing of people on a 'fast machine', according to you. I guess those were the noises you made while you drew.).
You understood that your father was not at home and you had to cooperate with me, and let me make some changes to the routine. You took your lunch and dinner well, without much fuss, and only complained for a short while that 'your eyes were tired'. You were tired and bored while I prepared the chicken for tomorrow's dinner, but in the end, you waited patiently for me to finish it so that we could do the card together. You willingly took your shower and brushed your teeth earlier. Then, although it was usual for you to settle into your cartoon-story book-bedtime routine, when I told you today we were early, you were content to play first.
Of course, you still got rough, got excited, when you brother touched the toys you were playing with and you still took the things he touched away from him because 'you wanted to play with them just at the same time'. But you had also made a train from the blocks for him to take them apart, and were quite willing to let him have the 'ducks' you made from the blocks after you were done with them. You kept your toys well. What's more amazing, you calmly let me bring your brother downstairs so that I could throw the rubbish, while you remained alone in the flat. Though it took but one minute, I had felt so anxious!
Although you did make me a little embarrassed in the late morning by asking, in your usual loud and clear voice, so that the electrician could have no chance of not hearing it, 'why is the man fat?' ('the man' being the electrician who came to repair our oven). But really, all things considered, these little misdeeds of yours today were nothing a guileless 3/4 year-old child could not be spared from making. And I am glad we sailed through the sea today, together, you and I, with your baby brother who is yet clueless. There is still tomorrow, but this day I must remember, for you.
And I guess I behaved pretty well today too.
I should have written this in a more ordered manner, spent more time to recall more details and edited the confusing sentences, but I feel I must publish this before tomorrow has a chance to unfold its challenges, and I have to go to bed now, I mean, right now, if I am to get enough rest. So there, here it is.

On Nature's Trails

2009-07-13T16:30:00.005+08:00

Oh, I wanted to go further, to get out of this Edinburgh / Lothian region. Go St Andrews and the villages along the east coast. Go Loch Lomond; just one of those "bonnie bonnie banks" will do. Touch the highlands at Killin in Perthshire, or Fort William for that scenic railway ride to Mallaig. Dare I say one of those west isles? But they are in dreamland, and most probably will remain there. Mid July comes and I am still roaming the Lothian circuits.

The River
Since I could not see beyond Edinburgh, at least I should see more of this city that I have stayed for nearly 2 years. So we took a bus to Dean Village, which is really close to the heart of the city, and walked the 1.5 miles or so on the walkways built along the Water of Leith to the Royal Botanic Gardens, and from there took a bus home.
Water of Leith at Dean Village:

Dean Bridge, on which the bus travels:

St Bernard's Well (no longer working):

A break at Cafe Nero in Stockbridge:

A nice building for the Pizza Express Restaurant at Stockbridge:

The Hills
For the second sunny day (only it was not so sunny where we went) trip, we ventured a little further to the Pentland Hills again. This time we took a different bus that got us right to the door step of the hills. I wanted to make sure that this time we did not have to walk a mile just to get to the start of the walk. The Capital View Walk took us half way up the hills. We could have climbed to the top of one of those small hills, but we felt it could be too challenging for Ethan.

Easier to climb on all fours:

View of Arthur's Seat:

One of a series of short drizzles:

More of Arthur's Seat and Salisbury Crag:

Where we could have climbed up the hill (but didn't):

Feeling the false snow (for dry ski-ing)

The dry ski slope:

View point:

going down:

"My chipmunk wants to see too" - Ethan wanted to take it out, but Jianming convinced him it'd do just fine with the head popping out of his bag:

Allermuir, another hilltop which we didn't attempt:

Chipmunk still looking on:

"I am too tired!"

The Woodland:
And further on to Dalkeith, to walk in the country estate. We started out late - after lunch - and since it closed at 5pm, just took one of the short Bluebell walks which would only be pretty in spring. In summer, it is really nondescript. How were we to know that the 5pm closing time applies only to the ticket office and in fact we could see many people coming in after 5pm (so they need not pay the entrance fee)? Anyway, Ethan had a fairly fun time at the Adventure Playground. We boarded the bus back to Edinburgh at around 6.40pm, the latest so far.

Adventure Playground:

Montagu Bridge:

Bluebell walk near River North Esk:

The observatory near the River South Esk:

Laundry Bridge and beyond:

Dalkeith town:

The clock showing 6.30pm, taken at the bus stop:

Paperless for Jethro

2009-07-07T05:21:00.002+08:00

What having a rat-year-born baby means to us: