Am very pleased with my LX3, a 2-month old acquisition which has done nothing but delighted me everytime the shutter button is depressed. I’m not abandoning my DSLR, but its bulky body proves to be prohibitive when I’m out and about with baby. It’s pointless even to compare these 2 models because they serve different purposes. For now, my nifty little compact meets my needs - small enough to stuff into the baby bag without sacrificing creative control. Best of all, it shoots in RAW! My Sony Cybershot can now rest in peace.

I do think sunsets on this side of the country are more spectacular

Damai Beach, Santubong. Aperture-priority, RAW. I thought the camera held up pretty well despite the fading light.

View from my balcony. Allison witnesses this wonderful sight everyday while having dinner. Scene mode, SUNSET. JPEG by default.

Armed with a big resolve NOT to ever have my girl eating processed food from jars again, a roadkill of a shopping trolley, a shopping list of superfood for babies and a tingle of excitement over my noble little project, I prowled the aisles of a supermarket, leaving no fruit unsqueezed, no food label unscrutinized and no veggies unturned.

I was going to cook for my little baby

I picked avocados, broccoli, butternut squash, pears, apples, sweet potatoes and lentils. Avocados, to be mashed and fed directly…except they have, till this day, yet to ripen. The rest to be prepared as glorious purees and the lentils…ah, the lentils. I’ll figure out what to do with them legumes later.

You see, I had no qualms feeding my muffin jarred baby food the way I struggled with failing to provide her breast milk exclusively, but the sporadic outbreak of rash was giving birth to the horrible guilty-mummy complex again. I wasn’t going to find out if it was actually an allergy.

Besides, how hard can it be? Steam or simmer the goodies, then puree and store. Well the hard bits no one ever reveals in glossy recipe tomes or glamourous cooking shows - the washing and peeling and chopping and dicing! It’s obvious I’m no Martha Stewart, but I’d also never make a good surgeon or butcher, being ever ever so klutzy with knives. And the washing up that comes after you’ve dripped puree on the floor and found yourself all drenched in perspiration is the least appealing part!

But oh, I could do a mean Nigella Lawson mmm-mmm-mmm *licks fingers seductively* without even trying, because the purees in their unadulterated forms are really that yummy!

So far she’s lapped up the broccoli - thank God! - and squash with relish. If she never eats another type of vegetable in her life again, I could live with that

I think I deserve some brownie points for trying and succeeding, although any idiot can puree food. If I feel foolishly ambitious enough I might even give recipes with words like “sautee” and “stock” in them a chance.

Now, I’ve got to go google for ways to ripen and pit an avocado. 2, to be precise

Of waking up to baby babble,

followed by cuddles and giggles under the duvet.

Of delightful roti-banana-and-jackfruit,

and potato masala breakfasts.

Of walks by the Riverside,

watching trawlers and barges cruise by.

Of  drizzles and gloomy skies,

and rolling in bed, doing nothin’.

Of dinners on the balcony,

breeze and setting sun for company.

Of chill-out times in my favourite cafe,

the perfect end to a perfect day.

Alas! She’ll have no memory of these lazy days,

but old enough to read this post someday

TALE : Means liberal omission of the not-so-perfect. The messy baby bit no one wants to talk about…like pooping right after a fresh diaper change, EVERY TIME! Like picking up the pieces of tissue papers she so enjoys shredding. The food missiles that always find me, the consequence of “talking” with food in the mouth. The flood of drool I’ve had to mop up. The patches of leaked urine we’ve had to live with on the family bed. How musty we all smell wearing clothes that have taken all of 3 days to dry. The condensed milk-laden teh tarik/kopi ais/teh ais, very discordant with the excellent bites offered in our new favourite Indian restaurant. The fuss she kicked up while we sipped lattes in Starbucks because it’s bedtime. There is no such thing as perfection, but sometimes we can trick our minds into believing otherwise by being economical with some truths, let go of our hang-ups and just chill.

And oh, it wasn’t poetry I was attempting

Happy Mother’s Day to me *smirk*

My day began with “Mummy, baby wants milk”, delivered NOT by an adorably chubby bub but a sleepy male next to me. It was 7am.

7.30 am - 7.50 am : Saw hubby out the house. Away again “sodomising old men” as he’s fond of referring to the prostate awareness campaign. I wonder what kind of men would turn up for free per rectal examinations on Mother’s Day…Anyway, took Allison for a stroll around the neighborhood. The friendly resident stray whom we believe has bovine blood flowing in his canine body tailed us, timidly maintaining a respectable distance. I’d name him Daisy, black and white patches and all.

8 am - 9 am : Fed her breakfast. Didn’t want to let me out of sight, even to get a bite. I was starving!

9 am - 9.45 am : Finally had time for ME! Breakfast bar and a cup of English Breakfast tea over Sunday papers. While she occupied herself with her ear-piercing screeches. Why do babies scream for fun anyway? Or is it just my baby?

10 am : Laundry, first round.

11 am - 12 pm : A bottle of milk followed by a whole jar of baby food. Had a splashing time in the tub (the baby, not me).

12 pm : Nap time finally! Ransacked the kitchen shelves for the simplest lunch solution. Aha! Bak Kut Teh-flavored noodles with egg and cabbage. A bit underwhelming for Mother’s Day, but should ward off hypoglycemia.

1 pm : Laundry, second round. Swept the floor, long overtaken by wandering ants and dust particles. What Mother’s Day?

2 pm : Checked Facebook updates. Oh my smug first-time mommie friends were having fabulous lunches and getting a pampering in spas! Not good for morale. Shut down Mac. Time for MY nap.

3.30 pm : Baby up! Mumbled “mum mum mum”. I wasn’t fooled. No one gets a first mama on Mother’s Day!

4 pm : Daddy’s home!

6.30 pm : Out for dinner but bankrupt of dining ideas. Besides, taking baby along severely limits our options. No matter, sushi it was. Growled at hubby, ” I want a Mother’s Day photo with Allison!” Someday when she’s all grown up she’d begin to wonder why all the photos were of her hanging out or getting cuddly with daddy but not mummy. Because I am the accomplished photographer in the family *ahem*

8 pm : Drove home right after dinner. It’s her bedtime, as she gets really really cranky if kept up.

8.30 pm :  She’s out flat by 9 pm. And so was I!

Oh what an extraordinarily normal day! If it’s going to be the same thing next year at least have gourmet coffee served to me in bed…and all you prostates stay away from my husband!!!

I flew 2 hours across the South China Sea, took a 35-minute train ride to Sentral, attended a one-and-a-half-hour meeting in Hilton, hopped onto another train heading back to KLIA, and flew across the same ocean in the reverse direction. In under 12 hours.

Because of the annoying KCH-KL flight delay we had absolutely NO time for anything else. Not even for a vital coffee pit stop. Pity.

The incredible thing was that we had the audacity to try catching an earlier flight home, and succeeded! It was truly an amazing race (for those of you in the know I’ve always harboured a fantasy of being in the race). I could have looked more at home if I were in a tank top and cargo pants, dwarfed by a backpack twice my size. Instead I was in smart casual attire looking like what I should heading for a clinical meeting, in patent/suede wedges and a slouchy tote bag. We ran and ran, from the hotel to the station, from the train to the check-in counter, then to the gate, clutching boarding passes for the later flight, begging to be given seats as the last of the passengers boarded.

Moments like these could prove decisive. Just ask Uchenna and Joyce.

Where's the pitstop mat?!!!!

The final pit stop for this leg of the race was Kuching. And the prize? An opportunity to be in time to put Allison to bed.

(By the way I did get my coffee - grabbed a cup from the coffee station on my way out of the meeting room, but just realised that my bladder hadn’t been drained since morning!!!)

Yes, I love food and I love to write, AND I eat out all the time AND I think I’m a half-decent photographer with a decent camera but *SOBS* I just won’t cut it as a food blogger!

I get very self-conscious each time I try to compose a shot, so my furtive efforts have always yielded either blah or out-of-focus pictures.

Well, I behaved a little out-of-character when I was back in KL 2 weeks ago, which is why the following images are some of the better food pictures I’ve taken OUTSIDE home. It must be from the lack of sleep (having to catch the first flight out) and hunger - I was completely disinhibited! My gracious host must be thinking, “Wah, must be never eat in Japanese restaurant before!” while I snapped away at the sushis and sashimis. Well we got ourselves a private room and there were ONLY 7 people there to judge me, so what the heck!

A little about the food…I’m not exactly the best person to be writing reviews of Japanese restaurants. I don’t think I’ve acquired the skill to discern between raw fish that move on a kaiten belt and ones that come presented in a barrel of shaved ice and adorned by orchids, but top points to Yuzu@Gardens for presentation. It’s the one place we’ve always wanted to try but each time hijacked by our less learned tastebuds to Paddington’s House of Pancakes or Chilli”s. Will resist the Treasure Box and Flame-grilled citrus prawns the next time!

Oh, a note about the ambient music - eclectic to the point of being inappropriate! We heard the main theme from Jurassic Park, a bit of Enya, some Top 40 pop hits and the ethereal music from Sister Drum all in one session.

I was more restrained the next day while lunching at Chynna@Hilton lest people think I’ve never seen a Peking duck in my life! I’m not a big fan of Chinese cuisine, but I do love the interior, very Chinoiserie chic if you ask me. As for the Peking duck, I’ve certainly tasted better!

I’m pretty much a lunch person, obviously because I’ve never been a breakfast person. I could be a breakfast person if every breakfast is a La Bodega affair, but preparation usually takes a lot of time and not worth the sleep I’d have to sacrifice. So over the years I mastered the fresh-milk-in-a-jiffy-and cereal-bar-in-the-car kind of breakfast.

That’s why lunch is a big deal, because by late morning, after the 50th patient in the ward/clinic (you either burn calories sweating buckets in the stifling heat of third class wards or generating body warmth not to succumb to hypothermia in temperatures of Artic proportions in the OVER-air conditioned clinic), you feel ravenously hungry.

When I worked in Seremban lunch was somewhat a headache. Being the misfit that I always am I never quite succeeded in infiltrating into any established lunch parties, maybe from the lack of trying :p So lunch became a dreaded, solo affair, a non-experience beginning with apprehensive foray into the greasy (yes, greasy) hospital cafeteria and ending with several mouthfuls of E.coli in my stomach (lab sampling PROVED it!) but totally devoid of any gastronomic pleasure!

Do you know how fervently I have prayed for Subway or Starbucks to open just outside the hospital?!!

The yummy stuff of my dreams

Anyway, now that I’m back here in Kuching I’m so delighted to find that our usual makan place has stayed open. It’s not much, just another neighbourhood kopitiam strategically located outside the hospital selling watered-down over-priced drinks (damn the monopoly!) but at least we could have something different every day. Monday : Laksa. Tuesday : Claypot Tomyam Noodles. Wednesday : Nasi Ayam Penyet. Thursday : Nasi Pattaya. Friday : Rice Wine Mee Sua (hic!). Sure, we endure the indignity of walking through an illegal man-made opening in the hospital perimeter, ingloriously billed lubang anjing or lubang tikus, and risk being run over by traffic plying the small road that separates us from our food heaven but the call of the kampua mee is strong. And sometimes, when we are really really hungry AND free (free time seems to augment craving, somehow…an idle mind is the waistline’s downfall?) we’d find ourselves devouring nasi briyani and honey chicken with chutney and dhall on the side and downing teh tarik (there’s Kopi Jantan on the menu, but I won’t be the one adventurous enough to test its claim on virility).

Ah, how I love being a lunch person.

Separation anxiety finally struck, but the victim wasn’t the one in diapers.

Can you blame me? I’m a control freak who has NEVER been apart from baby for more than a few hours since well, conception! Returning to work and having to surrender “control” for at least 10 hours a day (longer if I were on call) was tolerable, but leaving home (and country!) for 4 days? *freaked-out mother alert* Who would put her to bed ON time? Who would make sure her diaper is fastened PROPERLY before bed? Who would comfort her when she fusses? Who? Who?!!!

Flash back to those care-free, child-free days…I would relish every single opportunity to travel. Now the Wanderlust has been subdued, replaced by a greater force (or non-force, depending on your take on life) called Inertia. Inertia dictates that an object in mother mode stays in mother mode, whatever form it assumes - in harried homemakers, trailblazing corporate types, or stethoscope-toting, MRSA-disseminating types. It’s the Law of Physics, which a mere mortal like me cannot defy.

But work is work, and this was an opportunity I couldn’t and didn’t want to pass up. So with trepidation I packed my bag at literally the very last minute, with mini-breaks to study the face of my peaceful sleeping child. It was hard, really hard.

Oh did I not mention that I was flying to Bangkok? The idiots - sorry for the harsh term, but I happen to view such blatant disregard for the sanctity of the human body with utter contempt - hadn’t spilled REAL blood all over the city yet, but the court ruling on Mr T’s asset was to be made the week I was there. With an email from the meeting organiser that the meeting would proceed as planned BUT that we were to exercise caution and keep abreast of any new development. *gulp* The last time I was caught in any form of protest was in Kathmandu, which screwed up our itinerary. Frenzied crowd burning tires and and waving banners.

But hubby was with me, and things always seem less harrowing when he’s around.

Took along my 7-year-old *gasp* 4-MP compact (a dinosaur by even the most conservative standard) instead of a more respectable camera, and no charger. Brought along a cartoonish, ridiculously not-to-scale “Bangkok Map” one can easily sapu from the hotel lobby (someone sapu-ed this during his last trip there and gave it to me) instead of a Lonely Planet guidebook. Packed just right instead of just-in-case (little black dress and strappy heels in case there’s a formal do, shorts and sandals in case we go elephant riding…it’s Bangkok what!). Proved just how much - or little - I was looking forward to the trip.

Because of the volatile political situation I remained ensconed in the safe but boring confines of 5-star luxury after hours, marveling at the cityscape from the 23rd floor. Watched Rainman on HBO. Caught the US Health reform debate live, and couldn’t help but draw comparisons with our own breed of politicians, so sorely lacking in finesse. Had a Perrier. Had more Perrier. Took still life shots of  Jack Daniels, Asahis and Smirnoffs - oh what a well-stocked minibar! All these in the hotel room.

Shopped a little, mostly in the airport. Experienced Thai fine dining for the first time - you know, small dainty portions in XL size crockery, twirls of colored sauce, long slender whatchamacallit that soars into the air, and a postprandial stomach that doesn’t feel filled. Took a ride in the Skytrain (the local LRT). No temple, no elephant ride! In the end, there was no ugly incident. Heaved a sigh of relief when the plane taxied down the runway for take-off. You can seize the airport now for all I care!

It was midnight by the time I reached home, and my dear girl woke up to flash me a toothless grin. She was in good hands in my absence and all my worries had seemed unnecessary, but I’d hate to be away from her again.

Until my next call of duty.

I have no use for these anymore...not in Kuching anyway :)

Shoes…while you once stirred desires and quickened heartbeats you now merit only a passing glance, as I breeze past you on my sensibly-shod feet on the way to the baby’s department. Somewhere between the acquisition of a pair of hot pink sandals (which I wore to work when I ballooned up during pregnancy) and then boring but oh-so-comfy pair of flats (which is getting a lot of wear and mileage at work now) - incidentally both Clarks, a most glaring giveaway of my current fashion state of mind - Steve Maddens, Nine Wests and Fioruccis have lost their hold on me - heels, straps and buckles.

Designer bags…while you were once firmly in my sight (but alas not too many in my possession!), with the power to, someday at least, make me voluntarily squander my paycheck and still feel good about it (which makes these indulgences value-for-money), you now seem like such foolish extravagances. No amount of Prada or Chanel is going to make me a better mother, and besides, when I’m out and about with baby, who needs a Kelly, Madison or Sabrina when I have Allison?

Tech gadgets and gizmos…while you once induced a must-buy compulsion, you have been bumped from my wishlist. My inner geek is now satiated - I have all I need to keep up with the smartphone-toting colleague, the DSLRed shutterbug friend and the MacBook exhibitionist at Starbucks. I don’t need a new lens, when my value-for-money 50 mm prime is good enough to capture Allison in full glory!

On the other hand if you are marketing baby apparel, baby bath products, developmental toys, carriers, diapers, food…I am easy meat. ME! Ready to be seduced by the idea of safer, more convenient child-rearing (patented bathtubs! sturdy lightweight strollers! parabens-free wipes and bath foams! organic baby food!) and coerced into parting with hard-earned money for the promise of a brighter (first books!), happier (musical toys! activity mats!) and cuter (corduroy shorts! rainbow-hued tights! red leather “shoos”!) baby. Being a mother to a baby girl naturally confers an additional vulnerability to frivolous purchases.

I shop avidly, online and in-store. I’m not averse to buying from thrift shops selling BabyGap export overruns, neither do I deliberate before forking out a fortune for a fancy dress she’s likely to wear only occasionally before outgrowing it. I spend hours researching products online, comparing reviews and prices. I will never visit a mall without dropping by the baby section.

I represent a new demographic. If you target me and countless other young mummies like me, my guess is you won’t do too shabbily. New product? Bring it on!

For starters, she fell sick. Chinese New Year 2010 shall hereafter be known as The-One-Where-The-Baby-Lost-Her-Voice. Poor girl; spiked a temperature on the first day, coughed her lungs out and vocalized like a broken record on the second and struggled to breathe through her tiny obstructed nasal passages on the third. Oh, throw in an emergency room visit too. Still remained somewhat good-spirited despite the discomfort. Brave child.

Plan B took effect in lieu of A, the latter being dressing her up in a cute dress and taking her along to visit our friends. We had to leave her in the care of her grandparents instead, while we pigged out sans baby in several houses. I overdosed on cheese in my boss’ home (there’s the brownie with cheese, choc cheese, cheese cheese, and cheese BALLs…amusingly reminiscent of Forrest Gump’s best friend Bubba’s shrimp-this-and-shrimp-that scene) and still managed to return home to care for a sick baby.

I’ve had to return to work on the fourth day. The hospital was blissfully deserted, and parking was a dream. This of course IS the calm before the storm - any healthcare workers will attest to that. Just glad I won’t be on call next week to manage all the complications of over feeding and drinking!

So there, another CNY come and gone. The fireworks were spectacular though, always have been here in Kuching. I’d have enjoyed them more if the explosions in the sky hadn’t jolted my baby from sleep every 2 minutes.

We’re definitely going to return to our hometown for the celebration next year. The hunt for a baby cheongsam begins now!

Funky New Year do