Shrek's surprise

I am deeply touched and grateful for Shrek and all my children's presence in my life. Shrek came home with a grand bouquet de fleurs that is overwhelmingly big, a cake which he decorated and a box of 'Mon Cheri'. I am over the moon with the thoughtfulness and all the efforts Shrek has been effecting. I will cherish my small but lavish 30th birthday celebrations.

Thank you Cheri and mes petits b'chous.

I love you all wholeheartedly!

Endearingly and affectionately yours,

Reflections of a 30 year old

I wanted to document by way of my blog some of my feelings on turning 30.

Frankly I do not feel like it makes any difference whatsoever now that I have turned 30.
Age is but a number and all that makes a difference is how we feel. Although physically age does have a connection with our biological clocks (especially for women). I do not have any problems though as I have more than done my fair share of reproductive duty and populating/propagating Shrek and my genes for at least another generation.

Physically I do not resemble my age. I still look relatively fresh and wrinkle free. I am by today's standard an extremely young mum who can still turn heads and stand out in a crowd. Shrek (humour me )

I do struggle with the whole paradox that demands women to be super working mums juggling a professional career with that of home duties and children rearing. I have four children to keep me on my feet and occupied.
I do not feel particularly wiser than I did at my 21st birthday which supposedly marked my entry into adulthood. I just know that I am armed with life's experiences and am more likely to make more informed decisions than before.


I hope to overcome the complexes that come with age: i.e. getting wrinkles and sagging and ailing health and little nicks and crooks.

I want to age gracefully and with the least pain. Hope keeps you alive as Shrek so often repeated.

I will continue hoping and doing everything I can in my power to try and slow the aging process.

30 is supposedly the golden age for women or so I have been told. Here is to me and my teetering adventures as a 30 year old!!! Oy Oy Oy

Prolifique maman malgré elle !

I have been through pregnancy 3 times and am now more than two-thirds of the way through my fourth. It does not get any easier or better. I do however can safely claim that I am more experienced than first time mothers and have some notions of what to expect for the birth.

I want to recount all my pregnancies and my three deliveries so far...as to make sure that in the future my children will know what their mum went through...so they themselves are equipped with some faint notion of how they came into the world.

I will go through each pregnancy and delivery in a manner most accurate as to how I remember them.


Petit Suisse : I had four and a half months of morning sickness, nausea, metallic taste and fatigue, all the hallmarks of symptoms of a pregnancy. It got better after five months although the fatigue stayed and this is something that is common with all of the pregnancies I had. I walked everywhere and one night after having traversed the Leman lake and it was 3 almost 4 weeks earlier than my expected due date my water broke at the wee hour of the morning probably around 2-3 am ish. It was impressive as I had lost all control and wetted/soaked the bed. in amniotic liquid. Shrek called the maternity and we promptly dashed for the hospital. The contractions came soon after we arrived and the intensity heightened and amplified. Beforehand I had heard some horror stories about the epidural and was reluctant at first to ask but the intensity of the contractions got the better of me and I decided to greenlight the epidural injection.
Delivery time came and I pushed for a fruitless hour. I had an inexperienced first-time midwife who had just assisted one or two births. She told me to push, push and push some more and Petit Suisse's hair kept making an appearance so he was yo-yoing without actually making his grand entrance. The Dr had to then interfere and she did so with the vaccuum (ventouse). I pushed during a big contraction and she pulled with the vacuum violently and brutally. She could have employed more finesse or been gentler but as a result I tore and had to be sewn up post-partum. I did not have an episiotomy which studies have shown not to be a better option than to tear naturally. So I was stitched up while the epidural was wearing off and I was now feeling the culmination of pain from the tearing and the labour. I did however endure the excruciating pain without screaming hence Shrek although present did not attest to the fact that it hurt.
One of my biggest gripes at that stage was he did not seem all that sympathetic for he saw it as pretty much routine and painless because I was not screaming and hurling like a headless chicken. He then took it upon himself to take up parole and become my spokesperson (my French was miserably not up to par at that point ) and explaining to people that

"It was fine, nothing out of the ordinary and quite alright by all standards."

What he did not know was that I suffered in silence for almost two months because the stitches hurt like hell everytime I urinated or walked... I kept up a brave face because my pain threshold was high and soldiered on without hinting at the physical laceration and agony I was enduring. Shrek had no inkling of what I was going through and quite frankly I felt indignation and disgust that he could nonchalantly tell people that it was fine blah blah blah when in fact he did not know what was really going on- it was misleading.

I even smiled in the photos taken...without wincing because it is my personal reflex to do so. Maybe I mask my pain by smiling so brightly in photos... Sometime I regret not letting my true feelings shine through.

I felt dissapointed, isolated and alone and had the baby blues accentuated by an incomprehensive midwife. She was not to know because I did not speak French and was not one to complain or demand service.

I cried many a silent tear to sleep. I felt that having one loyal suppporter was better than a dozen of half-assed supporters. I did not think that people cared about how I was doing or if I was in pain or suffered... all they cared about was the fact that I delivered a baby boy who was in good health. I did not feel like I counted as a woman or person, just merely a vessel and birthing instrument.

The fact is that I would have preferred my mum being there. In the old days the husbands or partners were not allowed in the delivery rooms... My mum had been accompanied by a good friend or her sister when she gave birth. I think on the whole it was a uniquely female bonding moment because only one who has been through it herself can sympathise with what the woman in labour is feeling. Men can empathise to a certain degree depending on their penchance for insight but cannot fully appreciate the extent to which pregnancy and birth changes a woman. Shrek's unintentional insensitivity floored me.

Nowadays I say to hell with suffering in silence, that is a misnomer. Being stoic only leads to wallowing in self-pity and resentment.

So I vow to let it be known when people ask me how I am doing the truth even if repeating that I am tired, exhausted and in pain bores even me. Make no mistake about it.

Lil Miss N: my period did not return after Petit Suisse's birth for a year. The first three months of pregnancy was uneventful as I did not exhibit any symptoms that I previously had with Petit Suisse. I did not know and had no suspicions that I had fallen pregnant. My stomach did not change much either which meant it was quite late when I discovered the pregnancy. I had to abruptly severe breastfeeding as advised by the gynocologist because my milk contained an excess of female hormone (estrogen) whilst I am pregnant. Petit Suisse was not impressed as he wailed and cried for two weeks.
Lil Miss N was comfortable in the warmth and safety/security of my womb so she did not want to be birthed. She was 6 days overdue.
I broke my water in the morning and we went to the maternity. I had not dilated that much by this time. Shrek returned home to park the car and he was coming back by bus. The midwife called Shrek to inform him that in fact things were moving faster than we had anticipated and he should hurry back if he did not want to miss Lil Miss N's grand entrance. I had the epidural injection again as per usual habit, this time with a lil bit less hesitance and trepidation.

I had an experienced midwife who guided me because eventhough it was my second time I had not learnt the first time how to properly and efficiently push. She was quite helpful and I felt more reassured as she assisted me and Miss N's head pushed through the threshold after only a few propulsions on my part. It was so fast and I was running the risk of tearing that the midwife told me to hold on and wait. With her head out and her body almost out I felt the urge to push...but had to hold back and this hurt...I screamed a little much to my surprise. I was relieved when I could finally release and she was born.

The post-partum was slightly better than that of Petit Suisse. I think if it was worse I would have been majorly depressed. As it was I returned home for three weeks of house-arrest save the weekend because Shrek had to serve the army for three weeks and as I had a newborn in winter with kneehigh level of snow. It was a particular year where snowfall was unusually abundant. I did not leave the house as I was not equipped or felt fit enough. I had just given birth and taking care of Petit Suisse who was understandably jealous at first and not in the least bit independent and a newborn took its toll(was enough to drive sane women mad)

It passed and things got better as I slowly adapted to the way of life in Geneva. I still have not been able to make as many friends as I would like but that is another problem for another rant.

Baby M: Once again I did not suspect being pregnant. I fell pregnant after returning from an extended four month holiday: three month long stay in Sydney and a month long stay in Vietnam. The first few months were once again uneventful and went by without much notice. The last month leading up to the birth though left me with much pain in the pelvis as Baby M's head was in birth position and it put pressure on my pelvic floor/bassin.

His birth was initiated by the water breakage...as is dictated by precedence. I did not have contractions and stayed a night at the maternity being monitored. Since the water had broken I had to be induced by pills to provoke contractions and hence commence labour.
I once again requested the epidural.
I was assisted this time by the head-midwife who is experienced and pleasant and gentle. She is in fact a friend of Shrek's. She was astonished by the lack of blood when Baby M came. I did not loose any blood whatsoever but more than made up for this later up in the maternity recovery ward when my uterus was pressed and an abundance of clotted blood came rushing out. I felt light-headed and was attended to by the midwives to ensure that uterus contracts properly. I lost quite an impressive amount of blood clots.

I did not enjoy the maternity stays for the three because medically speaking I got the care I needed but missed out on some comforts...and could not get any rest because unfortunately for me I was always in a full capacity room with either snoring mums (they are worse than Shrek) or perturbed newborns.

That sums up my three children's births so far. In resume I would say that the fourth and final pregnancy resembles Baby M's the most with the pelvic floor pain even more intense and acute. Shrek has been meticulously helping out much more so than before. He is more aware and conscious of what I am undergoing.

I will post more about the fourth birth after post-partum.

I want my children to know that I am first and foremost a woman in my own right, capable with an intellectual insight.

I will always savour the lessons my mum taught me and how she stressed the importance of being an independent-financially and intellectually woman. Being a working mum to be valued and counted.

I also want them to know that despite the current trend of mums who give birth and immediately return to work without skipping a beat, I fight against the current and am a full time stay at home mum to endow them with the gift of time, care, attention and love. I would like to educate them and even when I lose my patience and temper would like them to know I always have their best interest at heart and that I do want them to make their own mistakes, follow their own dreams and paths. Whatever they choose to do in life, I am here with Shrek to guide them but not to dictate, to support them without being judgemental (or trying not to be) and to love them unconditionally as best we could. I cannot be the perfect mum because perfection does not exist but I try my best to be the best mum and person I can be so that my children will be proud of me as I hope I will be proud of them despite our differences and likely discord/arguments over certain subjects in time to come.

This is my favourite biblical passage Corinthians 13:4-7 which sums up elegantly how I feel. Oddly enough this is also the passage I chose to read at my wedding.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

It ends on an optimistic note because I believe that dwelling on the positive will make a difference.

Nein-zager (sic)

Nein-zager is German for nay-sayer. Shrek being the epitomic Swiss that he is reserves a knee-jerk action of saying no to everything and anything before first testing the viability of projects, usefulness of products, etc...

He is always reticent about trying new things so when I first proposed/recommended that he use the Oral-B Sonic Vitality electric toothbrush his knee-jerk reaction was to say 'Nah, not interested.' I insisted and bought the said device anyway. Once he tried and found that it was not so bad after all, he has become addicted to brushing.

It goes to show that first impressions can be misleading especially in Shrek's case. Right Shrekkie ?

Sticky

On at least 5 different occasions I have attempted to cook sticky rice using the Ceran stovetop (induction). )I have been thoroughly dissapointed and the very last attempt which took place today no less ended in disaster as I soaked the sticky rice grains and then cook it as I normally did using the ordinary electric stove and it ended up a messy, sticky, mushy blob and the final straw came when Petit Suisse being the busybody that he is turned the heat to high as the ending draw near and burnt the whole pot of goo.


Needless to say I was in a particularly pissy mood. I will now challenge Shrek to use the darn Ceran stove and cook sticky rice without it turning into mush or porridge or inedibly undercooked or entirely burnt goo.

I am not impressed by the stove at all which was Shrek's idea in the first place. It is a temperamental and moody entity much to my dismay and chagrin. It does however have a few saving graces those being that it can reach boiling point at lightning speed and does OK for other types and genres of cooking, just do not try to mess with the sticky rice God. Shrek can probably vouch more for its qualities...

Next time I am going to employ the microwave for sticky rice, seems more foolproof and less frustrating.

One more important attribute I forgot to mention about the Ceran stovetop: it has 3 stoves and one of them (the smallest) is reliably unreliable as 9 out of the 10 times I turn it on, the control flashes and flashes for a full minute before automatically turning itself off because it cannot detect the saucepan or frying pan sitting atop it (eventhough I only use exclusively Inox pots and pans nowadays). It does not work as simple as that. Shrek however will rush to its defence and say that it does not work because it's the pots/pans fault. For a universally black or white omni response Shrek is being rather evasive when I criticise his dada Induction plaques.

Differences of opinion

When Shrek and I first got together there were many incompatibilities which oddly enough centred around food, food preparations and the way leftovers are conserved etc..

The unforgettable episode involved an explosion over how vegetables should be cut shortly after we started to live together. This has been burned into my mind and I will never quite get over how grave it seemed at the time. He was convinced that the only way to cut vegetables was how his mother had taught him. I refused to cut it the way his exigency commanded. He demanded that I acquiesce to his authoritarian tyrannical way and so a feud soon followed. Suffice to say that since that memorable (for all the wrong reasons) clash we have come to a compromise about how veggies should be cut. I will cut it the way I see fit whenever I cook. He can cut it however he wants but he will not impose his will onto me without resistance.

Other non less spectacular affairs centred around how unhygienic it was for me to reuse over and over the oil that has been deep-fried and stored for a few weeks. This led to some short-cut chemistry lessons: how bacteria develops even when it is invisible and how no temperature high enough will succeed in disintegrating these persistent toxins. It deeply enriched and enlightened me. Needless to say I was less than thrilled and delighted with how he delivered his lessons and the condescending tone and ensuing belittlement and denigration. He maintained that eventhough I had passed college level chemistry and physics that I was in need of refreshment courses. I felt quite insulted and bullied.

Anyway I have resolved to not accept such behaviour from Shrek. I had to quickly correct him and remind him that due respect had to be given and that I like himself can commit errors and mistakes and we can learn from them but that noone is dispensed to changing overnight their lifelong habits and that some of his habits befuddle and annoy me to no end.

Food for thought and reflection. I hope that we have thoroughly rectified and can slowly move forward by ironing out incompatibilities. Life is a series of compromises. This general rule of thumb applies to all aspects of life: work, family and even pleasure.

A disclaimer: I wanted to record this once and for all. I do not hold grudges for an eternity. I have almost all but forgotten about these events.

Bespectacled

Shrek has said that a duck cannot reproduce a swan but I tend to argue that little ducklings can grow up to be swans.

Petit Suisse was diagnosed with mild myopia and his vision is -1.5 degrees in both eyes. I rarely wear spectacles as I do not need them except for driving and watching some sort of screen such as the TV teletext and cinema. Shrek is heavily myopic so it is that Petit Suisse has inherited this trait at the tender age of 5 and a half.

I just hope that it does not degenerate and stabilise over the years as the more education one acquires and intensive studies one engages in the worse the degree of myopia.

WOnderment

I do really wonder about Shrek's culinary skills as he was able to deliver overcooked broccoli branches and undercooked, almost raw broccoli flowers in the same dish.

Only Shrek is capable of such a contrasting dish: with textures so extreme. He is unique that Shrek.

I must praise him for all the efforts he has been willing to pitch into the sharing of household chores lately. Bravo Shrekkie. He can be thoughtful when he chooses.

Tentative first steps

Baby Moy's first few drunken or wobbly steps reminiscent of a duckling were registered but his milestone has been marred by 'déjàvu' by which I mean he is the third child in a series and somehow whether I would like to admit or not the novelty has worn off somewhat.

This by no means take away from his feat. I still got excited albeit a tiny little bit less than the first time I caught and captured on film Petit Suisse walking his tentative first steps.

In time Baby Moy will mark his place in the world and be remarked by his own unique footprints. When they are babies the little milestones are remarkable but after the first year the leaps and bounds are more far and few between.

In fact Baby M's first few drunken master steps seem to have taken place so long ago and I've only recorded it now...

He's got a grand total of eight bunny like slightly crooked teeth : four on the upper and four on the lower gum.

He recently learned the art of smacking his lips onto my cheeks at request (more like coaxing, blackmailing) and Shrek's with less frequency.

Passport photo

I really do dread having to renew my passport for one sole reason: having to have my passport photo taken. I have been unsatisfied with previous photos.The requirements/guidelines are standard: not too far away nor too close, not too dark nor bright, no smiling allowed, neutral expression with closed mouth, hair out of the face etc... It sounds innocuous enough but I spent the good part of yesterday morning getting ready just to look presentable.

The time came when I asked a sleepy and grouchy Shrek (he had insufficient rest) who had not been caffeinated enough to take a series of close-up photos which will be selected, sorted, filtered and developed as my requisite passport photo. He complained about my twitches, my mouthy expression, my turned-up nose, my uncooperative and unruly hair...etc... I got a bit fed up and just wanted him to take the photo already. Which he did take : close to twenty. I dread for the most part the results because I somehow do not find myself very photogenic in these awkward shots. I think the strict guidelines (which are necessary because otherwise noone would be able to stick to a standard) contribute to the unattractive (for the most part) attribute and it is mighty difficult to capture a good/photogenic or attractive shot of most people given such circumstances. Shrek did capture an OK looking me...albeit tentatively speaking because I believe that I am capable of looking damn good... (may sound a little vain but it's the truth) and yet in passport photos one would be forgiven for thinking that is contrary.

Thanks to Shrek's mighty effort, patience and understanding I have 2 acceptable prints that proves to be not too much of an eyesore.

The results speak for themselves...I just have to wait for the Australian passport office/embassy to accept that it is coherent with their stringent rules.