Chicken dancing

Today I had my second tearful breakdown. After playing with the kids for most of the afternoon ( I have this new found enthusiasm to actually sit down play lego and enjoy it!) I helped organise their dinner, supervised feeding and even suggested post dinner playground activities including taking both kids for a swim at 6:15pm. So it came as no surprise, after I'd asked Johnny Drama for the gazillionth time to stop throwing things, that when the pink tea pot came flying across the room hitting Emma on the head I completley lost the plot. I'm embarresed that my helper got to witness my foul mouth and incredibly pathetic air punching but I couldn't stop myself. Yes I know he's only two and yes I know that I should lower myself to his level, talk calmly and then go make a mark on his star chart before banishing him to a naughty spot for five minutes, but at the time shouting horrible swear words and punching the air whilst doing some crazy chicken dance seemed far more appropriate to vent my anger.

My son is no dope. I sometimes think for the age of two he knows far too much. He knows how to count to 20. He knows the difference between right and left. He can count to 5 in spanish. He can name the seven days in the week. He can recite about 10 songs (in tune) and is already learning to write. He knows that blue and yellow make green. Figures I don't have a scrap of patience for him when he plays dumb and throws things, pretends to run into walls (as he thinks that's funny!), won't use the potty or wont listen when I know he understands exactly what I'm saying.

So after his hissy fit this evening I decided to give him the cold shoulder. I dressed him and Emma in silence, prepared their milk, put the TV on for them and sat down without saying a word. He skulked around for about ten minutes before it got to him and he creeped over to me and mumbled 'Sorry Mommy, I love you'. And so we're back to where we started... until the next flying tea pot tomorrow.

I just dont know how to crack the evil in him. I wonder with other mums in Singapore - do you ever feel like you're kids are spoilt? And not only for toys and activities but attention. I remember growing up in South Africa in my back garden with sand and dirt, a great wooden wendy house my dad built us, a green jungle gym and a tire swing. I dont remember indoor playgyms, Royce kids gyms, music class or centre stage at the age of two. Do apartment bought up, city living kids demand more than their suburban small town, playground, dirt eating companions? I hope so. Maybe space, less attention, no helper, a big sandpit and a trampoline might help me calm my crazy child down.

Tonight I'm home alone enjoying the sounds of Singapore's finest construction classics from the building site across our road. I swear to God if I move to suburbia in New Jersey and they decide to relandscape our neighbourhood to build some amazing shopping mall or block of flats - I WILL GO MENTAL!! Singapore building regulations are sh*t. 9-5 people.
Its 21:25 and they're still going for it. I'm sure New York City is no quiet place but at least it's constant noise and only for a month. I laugh writing this- I've just been back to the UK on a parental/ inlaw conference and remember commenting (complaining) on a couple of occasions how quiet it was there. Maybe I'll miss the sound of the cement truck doing its thing. One things for sure, I'm certainly not going to miss Ms Heffalump doing her chicken dance in the flat above us every evening. What are you doing up there that makes so much noise???? #sooverapartmentliving

Tomorrow is Saturday. My last Saturday in Singapore. It also means it's the start of my last full week here. I've been here 4 years and I've only 1 week left. One week to say goodbye to so many things and to so many amazing people.

It's raining pouring old man snoring

Two weeks today we're gone-ers.
I'm pretty annoyed that yesterday evening, our penultimate Sunday, was ruined by rain. The Henderson Sunday ritual for the past year has been The Merry Men, great beer, chicken wings, kids dinner, ice-cream and a walk along the river. Instead we were forced to take cover at Bar Bar Blacksheep a pub a few doors down, drink horrible tasting beer, eat overpriced tofu vegetable fried rice and watch as the skies opened and the place flooded. I feel like I've cheated on my favourite pub and sad that one of the places I love in Singapore where the staff know my kids names is now just a memory. Sigh. At least one of our family had his fair share of fun. Average toddler today, You Tube sensation tomorrow.

Jumping around naked in muddy puddles. Oh to be a kid again!

Johnny Drama has been quite up and down these past few days. Is it wrong to call your toddler schitzo? Just as I was writing some of this yesterday evening I was thinking how lovely he is sitting on our sofa watching Peppa Pig on the battery (Ipad) and talking to himself about how he has big feet(not sure where he's learnt that) and how much he loves loop loops (cheerios). Five seconds later he's face down on the sofa, screaming ' I want mommy come to bed with me' and wailing like its life or death if I dont, when dh is actually offering three bedtime stories... God sakes child!

This week, my last full week in our flat, is chock-a-block. 1st birthday parties, last playdates, last visits, last shopping expeditions, last full week with Fely (our helper) and last three days for William at school. Sigh (again). Or so I thought. Johnny woke up this morning on cue at 7:10 full of good things to say, happy chirp about painting, pools and playgrounds and I gave in. I figured I'd save myself the drama and him the crocodile tears and call it a day on school. I mean what's three days anyway. So he's officially retired. Aged 2 and a half. Boy genius. Ten minutes after my pang of guilt and good intention of keeping him home so we can learn to bond for when it's just the two of us, I realised I had a 1st birthhday party to go to this morning without him. Luckily I'm still able to pack him off with our helper to a 'dinosaur' playground and chicken and rice for lunch. Tomorrow we'll bond. Promise.

I am getting really nervous about the big move now. I dont really like change. I'm a creature of habit. I've been to Limoncello for dinner about 5 times; have had the ravioli everytime, been to Boomerang for dinner about 50 times have had the cajun salmon everytime; been to PS Cafe for lunch about 50 times; have had the ceaser salad everytime...so you get where I'm coming from. I like familiarity, I like routine, I dont like surprises.
I'm nervous about so many things. What if I get there and hate it? What if it's so dam cold the kids never want to leave home and after two week's of being stuck in a serviced apartment when we're forced to eat delivery, take outs and loop loops, I'm fat, semi comatose on wine and suicidal? Ok, so that's pretty dramatic but I'm scared. I hate all these What if's?

Over the past two weeks several of my friends and friends of friends have come down ill with nasty stomach bugs. It seemed everyday I was running into someone I knew who knew someone that had been affected. It's one thing I've never loved about Singapore. Germ pollination. It seems that once a bug hites the sandy shores it takes over the island stopping at nothing- a bit like Contagion. So, as a closet paranoid neurotic and vomit-phobic mother I have kept my kids in semi-quarintine the past 2 weeks hoping that it would pass and we could escape vom free. So far so good. Sadly however I've heard of two little babies this week in hospital for nasty infections and my neuroticy levels have sky rocketed. Last night I clocked less than two hours sleep just staying up worrying that whilst my family, dear hubby included, snored peacefully, horrible little bugs were flying through the window infecting us with horribleness. I woke up this morning feeling awful, sleep deprived and miserable. As much as I want to enjoy my last two weeks in Singapore, I could do without a stomach bug and could do without two weeks worrying about it.
I have had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach for days now and I have to keep convincing myself its the cupious amounts of wine I'm drinking - and not the Rotavirus.
A tummy bug is surely not the end of the world though right? I mean it lasts at most a few days and then is gone. Hey, could even help me lose the extra muffin top before Christmas. My major concern is a tummy bug on a 19 hour flight. The last, and only, business class flight I've done was ruined by the masses amounts of red wine I drank for three days before we left London four years ago. I'll be dammed if some ugly looking parascopic bug can stand in the way of free flow champagne, flat beds and lobster thermidor. 
Sigh!

So, here's to a stress-free week of moving, packing, admin, bug free baby activities and more farewell lunches.

What is a life without friends...

Do you know who yours are? For real? What would it be like without them?

There's nothing quite like the feeling of being hungover. A feeling which I find myself feeling a lot these days. I sat down for a minute this morning calculating how many glasses of wine I had yesterday. Thinking about it didn't make me feel much better but turns out it must have only been about 5, if that. And that didn't make me feel much better either. How can I feel this rough after only 5 glasses of wine? Something must be wrong.
I wonder today if its because I'm feeling slightly rough, reflective and tired that William seems more irritating than ever. Johnny Drama woke up from his day time nap and has said 'I want somesing Mommy' about fifty times in the past 5 minutes. He's been sent to his room twice, had two seriously stern looks, one raised arm and a couple threats to his backside. God, still 4 hours till bedtime.

I have been worringly more reflective this past week. I guess with moving and leaving the familiar behind I have started to think back to when I first arrived in Singapore and what it was like moving somewhere where I didn't know anyone. Back then I didn't have kids so making friends was left to boozy nights out with work colleagues and meet ups with similar expats from social networking groups, usually also quite boozy. I made some great friends, some of which I still consider great friends, others not. Once William arrived and then Emma I met more and more people but then came the realisation that maybe some girls were only my friends because of our circumstances. We shared stories of midnight feeding, the size and consitency of poo and the joys of living an expat life in Singapore but that was it. No one talked much about life pre kids or a life we'd like with kids but without our kids, if you get what I mean.

I speak of William being Johnny Drama, being emotional and incredibly high maintenance but I forget that up until March this year Emma was exactly the same, if not worse. I had her three weeks early and I'm still convinced it was payback for taking her out my nice big comfy belly that made her the horrible little baby she was. And I say that because I can. I love her but she was pretty awful. So, after five tough months of not sleeping and generally being fussy it was no surpirse that I became a moody, short tempered, sleep deprived bitch. I didn't want to go on playdates, I never wanted to socialise and for a few weeks there were even days when getting out of bed was just too much effort. I cried all the time, I hated my life and I remember wondering what I'd done to deserve this. I know its classic post natal depression but I never wanted to admit to it. I never wanted to admit defeat. I never wanted to accept that I just couldn't cope. I hated that my 'friends' could. Why couldn't I?
And that's when I started realising who my friends were. My real friends. If I didn't call for two weeks and I ignored messages and accepted and then declined every playdate on offer, very few of my so called 'friends' stuck around.

I don't suppose I had some miracle cure but by the time Emma turned six months she started sleeping through the night, she seemed happier, we got a helper and generally life got better. The only problem I was faced with then was the lack of support. I was almost 15 friends down on Facebook.
How could I have been so close with some girls for so long and shared nearly every day of my exapt life with them only to be deleted out so quickly? I guess that's expat life for you. I now realise just because you're a mom, you have two kids that might be the same age as mine, you're from the UK or South Africa, you know someone that I know or are friends with someone I know -DOESNT MAKE YOU MY FRIEND! Proceed with caution! Makes me sound like a right bitch but I've learnt the hard way. You cant please them all.

So in two weeks time the unfamiliar starts all over again. I'm four years older with baggage and hopefully a bit more wiser when it comes to chosing who to share my poo stories with.
I'm looking forward to my new life and a world of possible new friends.

I found this really funny link to Wikihow on the internet today. How to live without friends.Just in case!

http://www.wikihow.com/Live-Without-Friends

pitthed

Someone once told me that I shudnt never blog wh n under the influence... so this might not be tooo long, or mightt not make any sense.

I am writing this now because I'm sort of overcome with emotion. Ok, yes firt off OI'm feelign possed,but i'm a;lso feeling grateful. I've just come back from a really loverly eveni9gn with friends and husband and realise that in 3 we3eks time Icant do thissort of shit. I wont be abletoleave my6 children and expect osmeone else to bath and putthem to bed. So many things i take for granted might come back to kick mein the ass.

Tick tock tick tock

Three weeks today and our house will be full of strange sweaty men. Oh and lots and lots of boxes. I will be packing my 'i'm sure its fake' Gucci travel bag, taxi-ing to the Fullerton where we are spending our last 2 nights in Singapore and heading out to dinner and drinks for the very last time. Tears are welling just thinking about it. 


As much as I really want to leave Singapore I cant but think how fortunate I've been to live here and how amazing this place is. Despite the awful weather, the annoying taxi drivers, the crab walking geriatrics, over priced toys, the barging out lifts and trains without waiting then pretending I'm dumb and don't speak english workman and the exorbitant price of alcohol and rent, Singapore has some amazing qualities. I love Changi airport, I love that it's walking distance for my husband to get to work and for my son to go to a very cheap nursery five days a week, I love the river and cafe culture and I love my helper (even though she is no.5). 


I spent this evening at my first Singapore snow storm of 2011 at Central mall on the Singapore river. The Rockefeller centre won't come close; Mariah Carey, Michael Bolton and lots and lots of cheap bubbles. Its a pity Johnny drama 'aka Scrooge' didn't want to get out the pram. Maybe he knows its only November and far too hot to be celebrating Christmas. Hopefully he'll get more excited about the real stuff next month. 


Our service apartment has been approved and our new temporary residence from December 10th will be on Broadway, a five minute stroll from Central Park, within eyesight of M&M world. I cannot wait! We've booked the 19 hour direct flight and I was completely at ease about everything until somebody mentioned to me in passing the other day that the flight goes over the top of the world. WTF? I was all ready to fly over England and across the Atlantic. I'm not sure I'm comfortable flying over the North Pole. Has anyone done this flight? Can you share your experience? (Bear in mind you're talking to the world's worst flyer) 


I'm sure our month in Manhattan will fly by especially as it's Christmas so we're under a lot of pressure to try and find a neighborhood, village or state to consider looking at to rent long term. Moving to Singapore seemed a lot more straight forward. Being 42km wide has it's advantages. We're currently looking at Rye and Larchmont in Westchester New York and Summit, New Providence and Millburn, New Jersey purely because our relocation advisor said so. We've three weekends to find a place to live and considering it's likely to be snowing and -10 I can see this going horribly wrong. I'm still tempted by my dream to live on the Upper West Side but I guess I cant forgo a forest and football sized garden for the thrill of the city when I'm likely not to see much of it anyway. 


With all the emails that are coming through from relocation agents, new work colleagues and realtors ( I love that word!) I need to start practicing my American. 
Someone today asked me what rowt I was planning on taking? Rowt? Hello? Oh, you mean route. Get ya. 
Awesome, well why don't I reach out to you and touch base to see how you're doing. Oh, and dont forget your diaper and pacifier. 


Check out my grumpy baby! If looks could kill!

Hair of the dog

I know you should never wish your life away but I am really looking forward to the end of today. Yesterday was the first time in as long as I can remember that I stupidly decided it would be fun to partake in lunch time beers, afternoon champagne, early evening white wine and then a pre-dinner bottle of red. Despite all this I'm relieved I remember most of what happened all day as I woke up this morning with a rather lovely looking mark down my back. (see below) Only after I'd been 'tramp stamped' did I realise I placed complete confidence in the artist Apple and her colleague Whopper in actually writing what I'd asked. Sitting in a local bar afterwards I asked a local waitress to translate the chinese characters and was relieved when she said they spell William and Emma. Whhew!

As our moving day creeps closer and closer I am starting to think of so many more things I'll miss about living in Singapore. Yesterday was a prime example. Gorgeous hot mornings followed my tropical midday thunderstorms, lunch time beers sans kids along the river, champagne with an amazing friend and then home just after my helper had fed, bathed and put the kids to bed. Parenting here is just too dam easy.
I am also going to miss crazy Singaporean taxi drivers. I've heard that 90% of taxi drivers in New York can't speak English so I'm sad I might not get to have similar meaningless banter that some Singaporean taxi drivers are so good at.
I walked into a supermarket this morning and was welcomed by no less than 11 people. Hello Welcome, Hello Welcome. I'm really going to miss that too.

The Henderson house hold sale is finally over with almost everything in our flat gone. I've managed to sell all our white goods, most of the electrical items and lots of unwanted toys.
We've bought a few new pieces of furniture including a solid wood four poster bed and a great chinese medicine cabinet. Here's hoping that neither crack in the sub zero temperatures in New York. Has anyone ever heard such nonsense?

I'm off to watch yet another beautiful storm from the comforts of the couch. Here's to another week of admin, packing, sorting and socialising, oh and gyming. #gottagetmyfatlazybumoffthesofaandbacktothegym

C

PS: I tweeted Kevin Spacey yesterday wanting to know where he's staying during his visit to Singapore for Richard III. Bit miffed he hasn't replied.

Johnny Drama

I am finding everything these days so stressful and I cant work out if its just a mixtue of moving, the kids not eating or the fact that in 4 weeks time I'll be a full time mother and I'm not actually sure I know what to do or how to do it.
I cannot get William to eat no matter what I cook or buy. Everything comes with so much drama and eventually I give in. He's been on a diet of peanut butter sandwiches, banana's and 'pink chocolate' milk (nequick) for almost a week now. What am I doing wrong? I've tried most recipes in the Annabel Karmel book and three or four others but everything I cook comes with 100 questions, 30 minutes intense inspection and then utter refusal to touch it for various reasons. I appreciate he's only 2 and entitled to likes and dislikes but surely he's too young to be telling me 'I'm not eating that disgusting plate of food'? No? 

This morning it took Johnny Drama 'aka William' 4 minutes to go from being asleep to total meltdown. I wonder what goes through his little head when we send him back to his room 5 minutes after he gets up for some time to reflect. I feel like I spend every waking moment with him these days saying;
- That's not how you ask nicely
- What do you say? (please)
- Please stop saying I want
- You cannot have biscuits for breakfast
I keep thinking that when its just him, me and Emma against the world (well New York City more like) he'll be better, calmer, less obnoxious and I'll cope. God I hope so! 

We got the list of serviced apartments through this morning that we can chose to stay in for our first month in the Big Apple. Neither are exactly fulfilling my Manhatten dream. Is it too much to ask to live somewhere big enough for us and the two kids with a microwave, dishwasher, washing machine and a picturesque view over Manhatten for when we're snowed in? One of the apartments is located in Midtown east, just north of Gramercy Park near the Queens bridge. It looks alright, reviews aren't that bad and there are only 103 registered sex offenders in a one mile radius. I'm speechless.

The last time I was wandering around New York I don't ever remember seeing a supermarket? Given we can't really afford to shop at Dean and Deluca, where do New Yorkers get their bread and milk?

Check out my new section 'Peter says'. I figure I'm not the only one my children agrivate most days so Pete is now happily contributing to my blog with 'his point of view'. It should be amusing! I promise that all entries are completley his.

Week 1, 5 to go...

Day 1 diet isn't exactly going to plan with dumplings and beer for lunch. We've just come back from Orchard Road winter shopping, I was so excited to find heat generating underwear. I am just LOVING trying on all the winter clothes. I'm sure I'll miss Singapore, the heat and the pool (and of course my friends) but I can't help smiling thinking how different life will be 6 weeks from today. 

Me and this kids, pre nutrition / fitness plan days...

Me and hubby post nutrition/ fitness plan..10kg's lighter...

Watch out for the final pic in 5 weeks time - hopefully another 5kg's gone...

Everything is taking shape...including my belly

So we have 5 weeks to go till we move and everything is starting to take shape. Including my belly. There seems to be a lot of reasons to celebrate these days. We got our visas approved. Bottle of wine. We booked our flights. Bottle of wine. We sold our car. Bottle of wine. Its Thursday. Two bottles of wine. Its Friday and the start of a long weekend. Bottle of wine. 

How am I ever going to shift another 5kg's before we leave Singapore? I'm worried that once I arrive in NYC it will be so cold I'll be snuggly wrapped up under five or six layers of clothes that the odd chocolate bar or 10 won't go noticed. Then comes Christmas, more wine, pancakes for breakfast, bagels for lunch, pizza for dinner, chocolate, candy and more wine. My best option is to try shed 5kg's now whilst I can so that I can put it all back on again over Christmas. Check in tomorrow for my day 1 weigh in.

US Visa approved! Awesome! 

So it all begins...

This is all new to me, this blogging business. I thought the term blogging was a bit wierd and I still do. So please forgive me as I don't know many blogging do's and don'ts as I start my new ex-pat life, a new adventure and my blog about it.