While Staying Home with Mommy...

Here are some captures of what Chubbs' been up to at home lately.

He's enjoying his baths in the tub again.

Lining his tractors, trains and boats up neatly.

And then picking his blocked nose.

His nose was completely congested then. He was snorting away for days on end. Poor thing.

Putting his tools in his pockets, pretending that he's Handy Manny.

Admiring himself in the mirror afterwards.

Chubbs has been trying to use his tools to fix any broken toys. And to my surprise, he has been successful on several occasions. He knows when to use the Phillips screwdriver, pliers, wrench, hammer, etc. On his own, he has screwed bolts to affix the wheels on his toy cars, tightened caps of jars and bottles using the pliers and so on. Most of it, he figures out on his own. I'll often find him crouched in a corner, holding onto a toy train, trying to "fix" something. Think this is an inherited trait. Fuzzy is dubbed the handy-man of the house, and his grandfather (Chubbs' Tai-Gong) crafts his own electrical appliances till this day. Chubbs is inseparable from Tai-Gong; he watches what senior does with real tools, sits down a few feet from him, picks out the exact same (toy) tools from his box, and emulates every action.

Take the High Road

Before I elaborate on the content of this post, I would like to say that I've always embraced the fact that we live in a multi-racial and multi-national city, and I fully appreciate how interesting this rather harmonious integration has made Singapore. But having said that, there are occasional run-ins that make me scratch my head and go, "WTH?!"

I very recently had a nasty encounter with a lady of a particular East Asian nationality. I was nursing Chubbs in the nursing room in Liang Court, and I had locked the door before I started because:- 1) There are signs by the door and the nursing chair that said, "Please lock the door while nursing." 2) There a hot water dispenser that the staff (both male and female) of Liang Court use for their hot beverages- main reason for (1).

Midway through nursing Chubbs, I hear this urgent knocking on the door. When I ignored it, because the sign that says to lock the door while nursing is in plain sight of the person at the door, the knocking became louder, fiercer, and I could soon hear a shrill female voice yelling at me. So I craned my neck to see what the ruckus was, and this lady from the most populated country in the world was hammering 0n the door, waving a milk bottle in her hand, and shouting goodness-knows-what at me. So I had to interrupt Chubbs, get dressed and see what the matter was. In a level of English I can barely understand, she said something about needing hot water, that I was selfish, and asked why I locked the door. I very simply pointed to the sign and read it word for word to her. PLEASE LOCK THE DOOR WHILE NURSING.

Her: Yes, but why you lock door?

Me: Because I was nursing my baby.

Her: I want hot water.

Me: I know, but you should have waited, because I was nursing my baby.

Her: Why you lock door?

Me: Urm... Can you read the sign? Do you understand it?

She muttered something I can't decipher, pushed Chubbs and I aside, barged to the hot water dispenser and helped herself to hot water. She continued to speak rudely in a loud voice to me, but I honestly couldn't understand her.

Me: I don't understand what you are saying, but I hope you can stop screaming. And please learn some patience to wait for your turn to use the room.

Her: I always use this (pointing to curtain that partially covers nursing area). You can use this.

Me: Is this called a door? Can I lock it?

Her: You selfish.

I give up, take the high road, and stand patiently there with Chubbs until she's done, given Chubbs the dirtiest look I've ever seen, and stomped off with her precious bottle of hot water. I locked the door after she leaves, hoping to continue nursing Chubbs, who's rather startled by this point. As I sat down, the knocking started again, this time with more yelling. I called Fuzzy on the phone, and told him to come stand by the door (he was shopping at another part of the mall).

She had left before Fuzzy came to my rescue. And I caught a glimpse of her with her son and husband when I came out of the room. She was staring at Chubbs and I. I was thinking in my head that she could have been more resourceful if she was really desperate for hot water. Like maybe politely asking it from anyone working in the numerous restaurants. Conversely, I could be called a prude for preferring to nourish my baby using the facilities made available to me, instead of on just any seat in the food court/ lift lobby/ restaurant, where strange men of different ages and colour have full access to a view of my engorged boobs.

I have so far been very kind to the folks of the land where people run into kindergartens and slaughter children for no reason, and I actually have a really close friend, an ex-colleague, from there. I calm myself down, even when they (healthy men and women in their 20s and 30s) jostled and dodged in front of me when I was eight months preggers, and carrying a few bags, to race for the only seat available in the MRT (which is incidentally below the pictorial sign that says to give this seat to the elderly and pregnant women), and narcoleptically dropped off to sleep the instant their bum hit the seat. But guys, seriously, you have to be able to understand simple English and instructions, learn some patience, and know right from wrong. And don't ever mess with me when it comes to my son. Thanks.

Okinawan Delights

There's this Okinawan eatery tucked in the corner of Liang Court's basement that we are reminded to try every week when we go to Tampopo Deli for dessert. This time, we ditched our regular haunts and headed there with Chubbs for lunch. I fell in love with the quirky, distinctively Japanese decor the second I entered, and the experience was made all the more pleasant with the friendly and courteous Japanese wait staff and the only other patrons were Japanese families dining with young kids.

Playing with the waitress.

Okinawan cuisine features pork, rice and noodles, so that's what we ordered. Chubbs and I shared a bowl of very delicious and smooth noodles in a rich pork and vegetable broth, Fuzzy had a plate of cold noodles with a sour ume dipping sauce, we ordered at a raw shallot and shaved bonito starter that was in season, and finished off with sauteed pork belly with spring onions.

The bowl of noodles were the star of the show; smooth and fine-textured- simply out-of-this-world! Chubbs heartily ate a bowl of it with the lip-smacking broth that it was served with. The sauteed spring onions could be less salty, but the vegetable was so young, that I couldn't taste any onion in it. It was like eating tender leafy greens. The shallot and bonito flake appetiser was very good too. The vegetable tasted like a cross between a leek and spring onions, but was extremely crispy and sweet. The bonito flakes lent a nice savouriness to the dish. My bowl of noodles came in a set with pork fried rice and home-made tofu. The rice went well with the sauteed greens, but let me tell you about the home-made tofu. I couldn't believe the texture and flavour of it; it was akin to eating fresh clotted cream or really good quality Greek yoghurt. It was ultra smooth, nutty, thick, creamy, and there's hardly any taste of soy. I will go back simply for another bite of this.

My baby noodle monster.

Shallots covered with bonito flakes.

Sauteed spring onions with stewed pork belly, and fried rice in the background.

Rubbing his round tummy gleefully after his meal.

"Choo Choo!"

I know I'm making us sound like complete "mountain tortoises" here, i.e., people who are unaware of the hip and happening wonders of the world, but Chubbs rode his first train ride yesterday. It's not that I'm trying to deprive him of an experience on our fabulous Mass Rapid Transit system, but it's just that we don't live near a station, so it isn't that convenient for us to hop on and zip around. He got the chance when we sent my aunt to the airport; she's headed to Italy for two weeks on holiday (note- I say this with a lot of jealousy). She was checking-in her bags at Terminal 1, because she's flying Air France (don't ask, long story). We were so bored after having waited 45-min and she was still not done, despite three queue changes. So after watching trains come and go several times, and seeing passengers alight and board, we took a ride on the Skytrain back and forth ghetto T1 and posh T3. Chubbs was uber-thrilled; especially since one of his favourite cartoons on TV is Chuggington, and he has always been obsessed with "choo choo"s.

He was not so keen about what going on outside the train, or the view he got, but he was busy checking out the interior of the train. Like the lights, the posters, the handrails, the seats, etc. It was wonderful for us to watch him too.

The amazing thing was, at the end of all the train-riding, we asked him whether he rode on a Koko, Brewster or Wilson train (the main characters of Chuggington). He answered Koko, without a doubt. Koko is the only electric train amongst the three, the other two run on fuel. Thinking it was a fluke answer, we tried to convince him that it could have been either of the other two trains, and even tossed out the names of some trains that run on steam, but he stuck to his answer. It was Koko, and nothing else. This little fella knows his trains.

Pui!

So the little one is sick. Very sick. Caught some germs from an "unknown" mucous-dripping, mad coughing source, and since Friday, he's been running a high 38 degree fever, fighting a runny nose, coughing till he can't breathe, not eating or drinking at all because his throat is bloody sore, and feeling rather irritated since he doesn't know how to cough up his phlegm. Poor boy.

Perhaps the worst to come out of all this, is that he coughs so hard in the middle of the night that he throws up. He puked twice last night. So at 3.30am, Fuzzy and I were changing sheets, cleaning him up, changing his pajamas, giving him more meds (he's on four different ones now), getting him a drink, etc.

We're tired. Please pray that he gets better soon, and we keep our sanity through this.

When he was still eating :/

Super "pai-kia" proud look while feeding himself.

June's Special Day

The past few weeks has been rather hectic, and we barely had the chance to just chill and catch our breaths. So Fuzzy took half a day off, just so he's able to take an afternoon nap, and we can fill our tummies to the brim.

First stop was lunch at Candlenut Kitchen, a Peranakan restaurant I've been meaning to try for a while. There is a set lunch available, and that includes tempura egg, chap chye (stewed mixed vegetables), one meat dish (we chose stewed pork belly with Chinese mushrooms) and rice. We opted for that, and added a few dollars for dessert and drinks.

I thought the food was homely, seasoned adequately, and generally well-cooked. I particularly liked the chap chye because the cabbage was soft,but not mushy, and I could taste layers of flavour in each bite. But Fuzzy begged to differ. He thought everything was too bland, and did not taste as home-cooked as some of the other Nonya restaurants out there. He was unimpressed.

However, there was one thing we agreed on. The sambal and desserts are to-die-for. We would go back just to have a huge dollop of sambal with rice, and pig out on the artery-clogging desserts. We order sago gula melaka almost every chance we get, and this time was no exception. It was the best version of it we've ever had. The sago was cooked perfectly, the gula melaka was fragrant, sweet and not cloying, and they used pure coconut cream. Not coconut milk, but cream. And there was no ice to dilute the whole thing. Heaven. I ordered a scoop of home-made vanilla ice-cream, just because I knew Chubbs would want a taste. It was chock-full of vanilla beans, and the most aromatic scoop I've tasted. Sadly, I only got to have one small teaspoon of it, because Chubbs hijacked the rest.

Posing with Mommy before the food.


Smiling his default smile for Daddy.


The feast.


O.M.G.


Chubbs inhaled the entire scoop.

After the two boys napped, we headed out to town for dinner. Our pick was the value-for-money sumiyaki place at 313, and we both ordered the Wagyu beef skewer set. The food was all good, but the best part about the meal was the perfectly cooked rice. We could see each individual fluffy grain of rice, unlike the mushy mess we get at most other Jap places. We could eat it on its own and be happy. It's the simple things that make us return to restaurants over and over again.




Slurping up long strands of noodles like a pro.


He finished the entire bowl of noodles in the foreground.

Our last stop before home was dessert at Wild Honey at Mandarin Gallery. We love Mandarin because it is always empty (thanks to the atas shops), and there's plenty of room for Chubbs to run off the food in his bulging tummy. I instantly fell in love with Wild Honey for their mis-matched chairs, Aussie vibe, menus scribbled on black-boards, and polite, eloquent wait-staff. Take that, Jones! Best of all, the food was decent, and the coffee, sublime. Take that again, Jones!


Rubbing noses with Mommy.


Decadent lemon and dark chocolate tarts.


We have to stop off at the shop everytime we visit Mandarin. Chubbs is eternally intrigued by the anatomical figures on display. He labels their sizes, "Big, medium, small, baby!"

Pasta Mania

As you already know, Chubbs is really into cooking. He has his own set of mixing bowls, utensils, "pots" and such, and usually spends most of his morning "cooking" me food in his "kitchen". Most of the time, he lets me taste noodles, egg omelette, and some other concoction I can't decipher.

I give him pasta for lunch almost every other day (I have five different pastas on rotation), and recently, I've let him "cook" his pasta before I do. He tosses the pasta pieces around in his mixing bowl, stirs them about, scoops them from the bowl to the sift, pours them from bucket to bucket, tries to sneak one into his mouth when I'm not looking, etc. It's good fun watching him and this simple activity occupies him for 30min :)

Very reluctant to take a break from cooking and look up at the camera.

Busy transferring pasta from Point A to B to C.

Pouring everything neatly into the mixing bowl.

The most amazing part of it all, is when it's time for us to actually cook his lunch, he insists that I carry him, and stand around for the full 10min, watching the noodles bob up and down in the boiling water. Not much excitement to me, but he's fascinated! Ten whole minutes of just standing there, staring at pasta pieces as they jiggle in hot water and plump up. Riveting.

We're at 21!

Today Chubbs is grand ol' 21-months old. So I thought I'd cook him a special tasty treat for lunch; butternut squash penne with Parmesan. I deseeded, peeled and cubed the squash before putting it in the steamer for 20-min. Then some garlic and shallot were prepped to be sauteed in olive oil until the shallot turned translucent, before adding the butternut squash for a stir around. I boiled some penne for 15min and then tossed the pasta with the squash mix, with a little of its cooking water. I grated some Parmesan and stirred everything together; it was a yummy gooey mess. Almost an hour later (I cook while running in and out of the kitchen constantly, to make sure my son doesn't dive head-first into the fish pond), our delicious lunch was served!

Chubbs took one bite and spat it out. And repeated that performance for every one of the next few mouthfuls I tried to feed him. In the end, he insisted on having the penne plain. No Parmesan, no olive oil, no salt and pepper. Just al dente penne neat. I give up.

On a happier food note, Chubbs has recently taken to consuming vast amounts of multi-grain bread smothered with jam (I give him an organic one of cherries, pomegranate and grapes). He calls his sandwich, "bread-jam-bread". Makes perfect sense, no? He has been having that as part of his breakfast (after he has had some cereal) and tea-time snack almost everyday for a week now, and washes the carbs down with fresh milk. I'm a happy Mommy... till this phase ends.

Looking up adoringly at Mommy. Awww...

And to celebrate him turning 21-months, we brought him out for a post-dinner treat. Ice-cream! His current favourite thing in the world is a huge scoop of vanilla bean ice-cream (no other flavour will do). The apple does not fall far from the tree.

More Splashes

It was a lovely Sunday with Chubbs and us sleeping in till 10.30am, followed by a long, leisurely brunch at home of cupcakes, Mont Blancs, toast with strawberry and kirsh jam, and cups of coffee. Simple things like this make the three of us extremely happy peeps :)

Lunch was at our new weekend hangout, Liang Court, where Chubbs ate a big portion of hand-made udon sprinkled with MSG-laden seaweed (I have indeed come a long way :/), and we pigged-out on super-sized servings of lardy yakisoba at Botejyu.

Seaweed teeth and mouth!

Back home, Chubbs got to indulge in his afore-mentioned new favourite past-time; "bathing" his toys. Today, he gave Mickey and crew a much-needed soak.

Happy in the garden.

Leaving behind cute little tracks.

Splash

Chubbs has a new favourite activity; bathing his toy animals. Every evening, I'll set out some buckets of water out on the deck, put his little blue stool in place, and drop some "dirty" animals in the water (today's victims were the ducks and the crab), so that Chubbs can give them a bath. It thrills him to bits. He sits in that stool for at least 30min (amazing!), scrubbing his toys clean, and scooping water from bucket to bucket. He kicks and screams when I pry him away, as soon as the mozzies are out and his pants are soaked through. But I promise to let him play again the next day.

He loves tapping his toes in the water puddles.

Sun setting in front of him.