<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237</id><updated>2012-01-22T01:51:04.068+07:00</updated><category term='motherhood'/><category term='merepek'/><category term='Haus'/><category term='2 sense'/><category term='creative cells'/><category term='jiwang'/><category term='riang ria'/><category term='no joke'/><category term='killing braincells'/><category term='new chapter'/><category term='ape ape je'/><category term='parenting'/><category term='gila monster'/><category term='event'/><category term='language'/><category term='events'/><category term='projek baru'/><category term='school'/><category term='award'/><category term='hiao hiao'/><category term='Flushed'/><category term='papah'/><category term='cuti-cuti'/><category term='my brain decides'/><category term='life'/><category term='gooly'/><category term='Lolly'/><category term='family'/><category term='penaja bag asli'/><category term='what the heckaroo'/><category term='Living in Bkk'/><category term='rewind'/><category term='km-stones'/><category term='rambling'/><title type='text'>Giddy up!</title><subtitle type='html'>Do not read the comments.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>722</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-6227121966487146375</id><published>2012-01-17T23:20:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T23:33:10.359+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>The feeling</title><content type='html'>..when she crawls to me for a snuggle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..when she hangs on to the hem of my pants asking to be carried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..when she cries the moment i walk away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..when she squeals excitely as she buries her head on my shoulder as protection if someone 'attacks' her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..when she shies away from strangers by grabbing me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..when she head-butts me for fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feeling is nothing less than a.w.e.s.o.m.e. Aww-wow-some really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think she knows im her momma already. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I think she is in love with me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teehee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-6227121966487146375?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/6227121966487146375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=6227121966487146375' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6227121966487146375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6227121966487146375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2012/01/feeling.html' title='The feeling'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-949523297249132566</id><published>2012-01-17T10:01:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T11:08:38.594+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>Crawlsome!</title><content type='html'>So..shes quite a pro crawler now. And all she wants to do now is to crawl! No chairs, no stroller, no carry..uh-uh...me wants crawl! Me wants crawl - she bawls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as she discovered the freedom to roam using her four limbs, she quickly explored all the nooks and crannies where ants and mites and dust and monsters lurk! Eeek! And she crawled under spaces where my butt wouldn't fit. Gah! And she climbed stairs and threatened to fall! Yikes! She wanted to touch forbidden stuff which i pressume she has been eyeing for the past 9 months. Bah! Itwas no fun at all for all of us who tail-gated her 24/7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, it got better. She understands NO-NO better...make that slightly better. She knows my butt is big..that i cant rescue her if she got stuck under some impossibly small space. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She says HI by lifting her hand high up to reveal her armpit, Hitler style. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try scolding her, and she gives you a pbbbbthhhh straight away. Baby's version of yayayaya..yada yada yada, i suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten months old, i already wanted to tie her up on a cactus a few times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wanted! Not yet, ok....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-949523297249132566?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/949523297249132566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=949523297249132566' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/949523297249132566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/949523297249132566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2012/01/crawlsome.html' title='Crawlsome!'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-1417747251767699457</id><published>2012-01-11T16:01:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T16:04:53.637+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>Id like to remember</title><content type='html'>The other day, i patted on the bed, summoning lolly to come over to have her nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She crawled the short distance, held my hand, and leaned her face unto my hand, with a sweet charming smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She did that three times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I melted into a puddle of love three times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and still melting everytime I think of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-1417747251767699457?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/1417747251767699457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=1417747251767699457' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/1417747251767699457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/1417747251767699457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2012/01/id-like-to-remember.html' title='Id like to remember'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-4503295105894390736</id><published>2012-01-08T09:07:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T22:07:57.995+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiao hiao'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='papah'/><title type='text'>What happened to us?</title><content type='html'>Admittedly, when i got married to papah, "happily ever after" wasnt exactly a sure thing. How can people who claim that or something along the line of "found my soul mate" be so sure of forever love? I am not a sceptic, but not a dreamer either. I got married with a mind set of, "lets see where this brings us."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the years, we made adjustments, cranked up the tolerance level or just bear with whatever that bugged us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was not easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of late, i realised that we dont do that anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We dont even try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or be bothered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simply because...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have accepted each other of who we are. It's that or we have grown into more lovable beings. Not sure about me, but he is definately a greater husband, father - a person, in general as he aged. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will you hold my hand when we are old?" I asked him the other day because i know he hates questions like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, hon," he humoured me in a super irritating way because he knows I laugh like mad when he copies what others call their wives (read: COPIES, he never calls me dear, hon, darl, sweetie. He calls me OI... Or mama, like gooly) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yeah.. I can see him holding my hand when we are old. Way much better than when i first met him, dated him, married him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-4503295105894390736?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/4503295105894390736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=4503295105894390736' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4503295105894390736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4503295105894390736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2012/01/what-happened-to-us.html' title='What happened to us?'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-2539238909284192960</id><published>2012-01-01T10:59:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2012-01-01T11:03:14.111+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='events'/><title type='text'>we live for happy moments like this</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;us with a very special awesome cake&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ahkC29oxe9I/Tv_aHUBkSZI/AAAAAAAADq0/2H8VBO4oCkQ/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite a conscious effort not to over-celebrate, blessed family and friends thought otherwise. Cant get over the beauty of the cake (and friendships!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a way to start the year. ZOIZ, i know you gonna be good to us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To you too, k..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-2539238909284192960?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/2539238909284192960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=2539238909284192960' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2539238909284192960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2539238909284192960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2012/01/we-live-for-happy-moments-like-this.html' title='we live for happy moments like this'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ahkC29oxe9I/Tv_aHUBkSZI/AAAAAAAADq0/2H8VBO4oCkQ/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8146180194981724281</id><published>2012-01-01T10:42:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2012-01-01T10:53:27.098+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='event'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><title type='text'>se73n</title><content type='html'>Two months before, he got an ipad 2 as a birthday present from his aunt. Can he be any luckier? You bet! He then went to Bangkok for 3 weeks. He knew on the actual day, he shoudlnt expect anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence, when my sis asked, "What would you like for your birthday?", he gracefully announced that he doesnt need anything, because he has everything. And yet, cakes and pressies kept pouring in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;the most awesome cake!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-s4BIk36FFx8/Tv_WDZOInII/AAAAAAAADqk/3pYgUktWDbk/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isnt that a beauty? Awesome-ness! That boy of mine is really blessed. The cake is bought by my dear friends,  with a special request ( to the baker) of a Naruto head to be placed on top because they make efforts to get to know my son. Naruto, as you mau have guessed is his current fav tv show. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We bought him a cake too, but stinged on the design. It was just a plain ole trusty black forest. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this morning, his godma came with pressies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And tonight, another godma is organising a surprise party for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Celebrations after celebrations....my son,  arent you special? You must be....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy 7, my dearest first born!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8146180194981724281?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8146180194981724281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8146180194981724281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8146180194981724281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8146180194981724281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2012/01/se73n.html' title='se73n'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-s4BIk36FFx8/Tv_WDZOInII/AAAAAAAADqk/3pYgUktWDbk/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8445292148997186979</id><published>2011-12-26T23:08:00.009+07:00</published><updated>2011-12-27T00:16:07.904+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Living in Bkk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='events'/><title type='text'>Christmas 2011</title><content type='html'>Previously when my brother was still around, we'd celebrate Christmas at his place - a round of makan to be followed by the gift exchange routine for the kids. Nothing fancy, they always got those cheap toys which they got bored after 5 minutes or so. And very often, we'd bring out a cake for gooly as his birthday is just days after Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you asked me, Christmas has been quite routine for quite a number of years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year, we celebrated Christmas in Bangkok. On the very first day we arrived, decorations at the malls has already put us in the festive mood. We took loads of pictures like what tourists normally do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first gifts that we received were by papah's accountant. She gave me a shopping bag (knowing how much I love bags! Papah must have been telling them stories! *frown*), a pretty dress for lolly, and a bouncy lion for gooly. Now, i must say that i am always anxious when someone gives gooly pressies by surprise. You know, what if he gives a bah! when he doesn't like it? And when i saw the stuff toy, i was thinking that he has outgrown cuddly cutey toys, and got really apprehensive about his reaction. But thank goodness, he gave a big genuine smile and started laughing while bouncing the lion away. He said thank you and gave the lady a hug. She is obviously smitten by his actions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know the lion wasnt really his "thing" (he wants soldiers and army stuff now) but he was really being nice and polite and most importantly, thankful for the present he received.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then he told us that he really wanted a set of those tiny soldiers with tanks and missiles and other cool stuff. He has been eyeing it at the 7-11 nearby our place. We bluffed and said we are not getting him any. He didnt whine or complained much. And then we got it for him, secretly. For 129 baht. Lol. He woke up feeling on top of the world when he saw it the next day. And started to believe in santa, cos we just wanted to magicked the whole thing. And for him to truly believe that he has been a wonderful child. We tell him that all the time. I guess when santa says it, its even more special. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then today was papah's company dinner - a food and karaoke affair. Quite an experience for us to be surrounded by happy jolly locals belting out isaan songs. Lots of clapping and dancing. Wanted to shuffle but didnt think it was appropriate.  Again, we received presents. This time, we got a set of tshirts for the four of us, with the kingdom's animal icon - the elephant sewn on them. I was really touched, and to show my appreciation, quickly changed lolly into it, and asked gooly to do the same. I am so glad he obliged. He was strutting proudly in it- so happy to be wearing an identical shirt as his baby. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also had the gift exchanging program which was a bit complicating, imho. There were electrical aplliances, ang pows, hampers and a huge panda (as tall as gooly). Before that,  Gooly was really serious about choosing the right gift for the program. He really wanted it to be special, hoping that the someone who gets his gift will be extremely happy. I thought that was awfully sweet because its so darn hard to buy a present when you dont know who is it for.. So i was really getting bored and just wanted to get it over and done with. Like, here, buy this tissue box and go! But nooooo.... He gave his heart and soul into it. And chose a watch instead for that lucky person. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he got a set of comforter in return. In pink! Dissappointed of course. But graciously decided to give it to his beloved sister or someone more needy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so it has been a simple affair - one that tells the meaning of christmas in its own way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One that shows how easy it is to make my son happy.(note: his birthday is just days away. I havent planned anything, bought anything..in fact thought of anything related to it. And he hasnt either because, he will be happy no matter what we do on that day. I know he will be thankful with whatever gifts, parties, cakes. Or without, i hope)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One that highlights his big, gracious and thankful heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One that i wish to remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How was your christmas?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8445292148997186979?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8445292148997186979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8445292148997186979' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8445292148997186979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8445292148997186979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas-2011.html' title='Christmas 2011'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7157960996609550066</id><published>2011-12-19T02:26:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T02:58:35.650+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>Everytime</title><content type='html'>Everytime i get tired, i think of her cute fat rounded toes and fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime i think i am bored, i will remember her super soft skin rubbing against mine (not so soft skin).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime i remember that i havent smile, i take a whiff of her little but soft hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime i take a breather, i reach for her hugs (she squashes our faces together)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime i reach the peak of frustration, i hear her loud squeals and cheerful sounds of nothing but daada, daada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime i hear a sad tone, i look for her assuring smile of two visible bottom teeth with puffed up cheeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime i look like crap, i search for her chuckles and giggles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime i search for the meaning of life, i see love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime i see love, i know i am blessed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(she woke for her milk at 3 am. In the dark, she searched for my face and immediately broke into a beautiful smile for me. Only for me. At 3 am. It seemed like it was just the two of us, in the whole wide world, at this hour.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7157960996609550066?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7157960996609550066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7157960996609550066' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7157960996609550066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7157960996609550066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/12/everytime.html' title='Everytime'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-222781711980661344</id><published>2011-12-18T21:14:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T21:32:06.889+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><title type='text'>the most considerate person i know</title><content type='html'>...would be my own son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When someone is asleep or nursing an illness, he is always very considerate to shut the door quietly, whisper softly, turn down the volume of the tv, and sometimes even tip toe around the room. Just today, papah had a bad tummy ache (bummer! On a sunday! Ish!). He said we could have lunch nearby and just hang out at home "since papah is sick." eventhough we are on a holiday. Boy! I was more sour about being stuck at home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he needs something you are using, he will bring another item in exchange for the one he is eyeing on. Say for example, when i am in bed comfortably on a pillow, he would fetch me another before he grabs away the one he wants. And he is courteous to ask first, "Mom, do you mind changing this pillow with me?" eventhough i took HIS pillow at the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When both of us need to take a dump, he would ask if I REALLY need to go. If he coukd hold his pee/poo, he'd let me go first. Thats very gentlemanly of him. He also lets me in into the house whenever i am carrying stuff or baby. "After you, " he says. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He helps me automatically to either push or keep the stroller. He opens the car door for me. I just told papah the other day that he should learn from his son on being a better man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are more examples of how chilvarous he is but I guess it matters not that I list them down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gooly, my perfect gentleman - thats what you are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-222781711980661344?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/222781711980661344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=222781711980661344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/222781711980661344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/222781711980661344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/12/most-considerate-person-i-know.html' title='the most considerate person i know'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7566470793638758308</id><published>2011-12-18T10:02:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T13:31:38.873+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='papah'/><title type='text'>Recognition</title><content type='html'>For the life of me, i couldnt and cant understand the significance of giving awards or rewards to someone who has done a lot. I mean, if you are a kid, yes..stickers and stamps and stars probably give you some sort of achievement high. But when you are an adult, how does a plaque or a trophy make you feel remotely happy about what you have done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a mother. Inevitably, sometimes I feel, "Why am i the only one doing stuff for the kids? Hey, what about me? Woi, i need to sleep or hang out with my friends too, you know." At the end of all these unresolved questionings, I, too would like people who matter to me, think and know that what I do is not easy and equally  important as saving the poison arrow frogs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, do i want the person to give me an award of recognition or something? I dont think so. It wont be satisfactory to my soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about a reward? A bag, perchance? I do love bags, but they are reserved for other celebrations like birthdays and christmases, rayas but not for being a "trying to be a good" mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose i just need kind gestures and words on a daily basis. Nothing grand..some words like -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Quiet down, mummy is resting."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Let's bring mummy to her favourite place to eat." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Go give mummy a hug."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you say that, papah, I know you appreciate me. Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for Gooly to say -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are the best mom in this family." (tho I am THE ONLY mom in the family)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom's job is the hardest!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Papah, quickly finish your food and take care of meimei so mummy can eat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I will finish quickly so I can help you, ok, mom?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or for lolly to literally jump with joy when she sees me after MIA for 5 minutes or for her to smolder her face unto mine..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all these, I must be loving them right (read: doing the best i can)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disclaimer : I have never won the Oscar or Nobel prize before...so i may just change my mind about this recognition business when i do receive one ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7566470793638758308?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7566470793638758308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7566470793638758308' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7566470793638758308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7566470793638758308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/12/recognition.html' title='Recognition'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7012183800706630746</id><published>2011-12-12T22:04:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-12-12T22:27:34.242+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cuti-cuti'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='events'/><title type='text'>The holiday thus far..</title><content type='html'>...has been nothing but fun fun fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off, lolly was exceptionally good during the flight! *doing the indian jiggy jive* Yes!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather has been realllllly fantastic! Yesterday was down to 19 degrees in the morning. The kids wore hoodies, me in long sleeve, papah being macho, just in his normal tee - we took a walk to our neighbourhood mootun stall. Normally back home, we would have sweated a bucket, having pores like Spongebob, but here...nope, not even a drop of perspire! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every morning, the kids and i idle the hours away. Sorry papah has to go work. We take a stroll downstairs, do a bit of cartwheels, laugh a lot. Lolly takes a nap while gooly watches telly or read. It's such a joy watching him having fun that learning the timestable is right at the bottom of the totem at the moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then we decide what to eat. Every meal has been either orgasmic, satisfactory or awesome. Nothing less. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We met up with Ada and family the very next day we arrived. My sweet girl was a bit shy, but gooly said to give her time to warm up. True enough, the following day, the two of them got on like they were never separated. Sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lolly, meanwhile, was slightly cranky on the first two days, probably due to her emerging teeth and also lack of sleep. But now, she is getting really comfortable with the new schedule. Many people adore her, saying she's naalak (cute) despite not being sure about her gender. Well, as we all know, the thais never mind much about you being a man, woman, neither, either...Yes, lolly is cute but people dont tell us that back home. Cos they always think their kids are the cutest (hah! Admit it!) Thais are generous with compliments. They are also more affectionate. Every where we go, people are smiling, touching, saying hello to my baby. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whats next? The beach, farm and shopping!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dont miss us too much! Try -lah, at least, ok?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7012183800706630746?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7012183800706630746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7012183800706630746' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7012183800706630746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7012183800706630746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/12/holiday-thus-far.html' title='The holiday thus far..'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8174104812756933250</id><published>2011-12-10T17:36:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T21:47:47.655+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='km-stones'/><title type='text'>Teeth sighted</title><content type='html'>The bottom one came first, like how it normally appears for many other babies. The night before, at a restaurant, she was sucha monster! I swore i didnt want to bring her out again (a self promise easily made and forgotten, of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days later, she was super cranky. Again! And ahbu discovered that she was sprouting the two front teeth. And we went, "ohhh..no wonder". Truth be told, i was kinda worried that i was raising a cry baby! And the storm kinda died down a little. She was chirpy and cute again.  At least for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, it was wuahhhh..wuuuuahhhh period again, and this time gooly announced that tooth no.3 is appearing on top. FYI, its a bit hard to see her top row teeth because...err...her bottom jaw/gum is more prominent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we tilt her to the back when we wanna check for teeth alert. Alas, we saw tooth no.4, again on top, today! (she was duper whiny yesterday, in the car, stuck in the infamous bangkok jam! Gawd!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus, now she has very imbalanced sprouted teeth. 4 on top, only one at the bottom. She's all cute when she smiles as she flashes her one and only visible pearly white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now we know, whenever she cranks up, its a tooth she's growing. Ouch! Poor baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the record, she was really good during the flight, sleeping throughout the 2 hour. Phew! And we went chatujak today. So major brave of us, eh? She was all cuddly cute again - getting all the attention from the friendly locals. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We *heart* bangkok. Always. Again and again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8174104812756933250?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8174104812756933250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8174104812756933250' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8174104812756933250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8174104812756933250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/12/teeth-sighted.html' title='Teeth sighted'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-2045243685298894515</id><published>2011-12-08T10:48:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-12-08T11:00:09.670+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Haus'/><title type='text'>a place called home</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Ant6ptvSkAE/TuAziggDbmI/AAAAAAAADqc/zySAO-hIMYI/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my 36th birthday, on the exact date, i signed some papers to sell our souls to the mortgage bank. I take it as a big birthday pressie, one that papah has to pay for the rest of his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Six months later, we offcially opened the front door to our new home, with a ceremonius albeit redundant floor mopping routine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reno to design a palace kingdom befitting an empress such as myself shall commence soon, but not till we are back from bangkok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup, flying off in a few hours time..braving the flight with a screaming banshee. Zowee! Fun fun fun to you passengers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-2045243685298894515?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/2045243685298894515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=2045243685298894515' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2045243685298894515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2045243685298894515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/12/place-called-home.html' title='a place called home'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Ant6ptvSkAE/TuAziggDbmI/AAAAAAAADqc/zySAO-hIMYI/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-1216133927668482415</id><published>2011-11-26T10:17:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T02:53:15.020+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>The little pumpkin amongst other names</title><content type='html'>Sometimes we call her pumpkin cos her face resembles one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or 'little bear' when we imprison her in her cot. If you are highly imaginative, imagine a "NO FEEDING" sign around her neck. Her tiny feet stick out in between the bars. It's really cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gooly calls her Girl-Girl. We dont'.I dont know where he got the idea from. "Girl-girl, whats the matter?" "Girl, whats wrong?" it's really endearing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She likes sticking out her tongue..i dont know, perhaps to test the weather. Its so cheeky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then theres this "tsk tsk tsk tsk" sound that she makes as she cruises along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes she drives us nuts with her screaming. We call her "kunglung" or monster then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when she crawls real fast to destruct something..we yell, "The monster truck is coming!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But i never get tired looking at her face. Its between silly, cute, forlorn, boyish, girlish, pretty, cheeky, troll-like (in a super cute way) and very often, omai-just-like-gooly. With a tooth sprouting, she looks different...a whole new face to stare at. And thats a face i wanna kiss all the &lt;br /&gt;time, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And bite.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-1216133927668482415?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/1216133927668482415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=1216133927668482415' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/1216133927668482415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/1216133927668482415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/11/little-pumpkin-amongst-other-names.html' title='The little pumpkin amongst other names'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-4580174268028438275</id><published>2011-11-24T12:49:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-11-24T12:58:13.027+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='merepek'/><title type='text'>Blah</title><content type='html'>I'm not smiling much these day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bark at children, mine and theirs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired but the moment i hit the pillow, lolly wakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like i NEED to buy a bag when i just got one two weeks back *major crazy siren blaring*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to hang out with friends but my kids need me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont want to babysit my nephew anymore because he keeps making fun of my underwear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~transmission ends&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-4580174268028438275?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/4580174268028438275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=4580174268028438275' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4580174268028438275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4580174268028438275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/11/blah.html' title='Blah'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-140856532976547342</id><published>2011-11-21T08:00:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-11-21T08:48:46.890+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='km-stones'/><title type='text'>Lolly almost 8</title><content type='html'>Ok, last two weeks, she began to crawl forward. It was clumsy (as opposed to 'crawlsome!' ) that she didnt qualify for an imaginary Crawling Contest 2011.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wasnt sitting also. Well, she does sit on the high chair..so she IS sitting technically. its just that she doesnlt like sitting on her own on the floor watching the world go by. The moment she hits the floor, she zig zags across the room dragging her heavy bum along in a comical way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'd say...she wasnt a profesional crawler or a sitter...BUT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wanted to stand and cruise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw beads of sweat on her head as she kept trying the daunting tasks of pulling herself up and making steps sideways along her crib. I was rolling my eyes and telling her, "Slow it down! Back to the basics-lah! Sit, crawl, stand, walk..in that order please."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But like all little girls with a streak of my genes...she refused to listen. She practised cruising so much that by evening, she was letting go of one hand (Look ma, no hands!), and smiling gleefully. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of today, she can pull herself up with ease - knees no more wobbly, and cruises along smoothly.#i told you so, mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh, a white cap emerged at the lower gum. I can just imagine her looking even cuter with a toothy grin. She is a buttony cute bub if she doesnt scream that loud. Actually many still think she's adorable {my mom, the president of her fan club, for one } and all when she lets out loud, really mega loud shrieks.  i have zero tolerance towards loud decibles of sounds. I have delicate ears. So imagine my horrors when my baby...MY BABY (ops sorry, didnt mean to shout) started screaming at a restaurant. She wasnt exactly fussing so there was nothing i could do to pacify her. She was just using her vocal cord to the max. It was cute at the beginning, and then it got louder and louder that a glass could break if i didnt take her out! Oh my! I shudder in fear now if you were to invite me for makan and nonchalantly ask, "Bring baby alonglah..i want to see her lah...."(i do get those invites pretty often). "Its me or her, you choose," i'd say. And they would choose her but of&lt;br /&gt;course...*sad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As many moms with multiple kids say, each child is different. And i can so relate to that now #duh. So everything that lolly does that is different from how gooly did it, as far as my memory stretches, I find myself tilting my head a little in amusement and amazement. And sometimes with my mouth slightly agape, thinking.."Crap.. This is like being a new mom all over again!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Lolly...hic! I had to down yomeishu to survive motherhood this time round.Hic! Ah well...might as well..To Lolly, the loud baby who walks (or rather tries to) before she could crawl... Hic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;{The next time i write, i hope i dont begin with "Hi, my name is Jenny and i am an alchoholic *hi, jenny*}&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-140856532976547342?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/140856532976547342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=140856532976547342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/140856532976547342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/140856532976547342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/11/lolly-almost-8.html' title='Lolly almost 8'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7726258522713967571</id><published>2011-11-11T16:51:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-11-11T20:16:57.267+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>Saying the right stuff</title><content type='html'>The other day, gooly in the heat of anger, got into a dispute with his cuz. And it involved a flying chicken leg kick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I reprimanded him, told him that he should never never strike another. I was ready to hurl a barrage of words. And i began with, "You are bigger size than him..imagine..would you like it if someone does that to mei mei? (his precious)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he solemnly said, "I should have used my brain to think first!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yaaaaa...(oei? This is not what i expected. If he had  gotten all defensive, I would have dished out my "long winded speech" about why, how he shouldn't get in a fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then he continued: "I was a bad example...." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yaaaa.... (oei? So matured one??)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, "I'm sorry, mom. I wont do it again.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Ok.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was the end of my uhm...lecture. I wont even classify it as a lecture. It was a lot of monosylabic words like, "yaaaa" and "ok". But seriously, what else could i have said? He has summed up everything pretty well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, at the point of my last "ok", i wondered if he had learned the skill of winning an 'argument' with mom, which is - do not argue. If he had been brash or argumentative about it, he would have to face the guillotine. And now he walks away free..with just a promise of never do it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty smooth, I must say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will see if he's really remorseful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or he is just a sweet talker, saying the right thing at the right time to save his ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh.. I can see my genes in him now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7726258522713967571?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7726258522713967571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7726258522713967571' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7726258522713967571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7726258522713967571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/11/saying-right-stuff.html' title='Saying the right stuff'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7295200379183261769</id><published>2011-11-03T08:36:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-11-03T09:26:29.879+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='km-stones'/><title type='text'>Lolly 7.0</title><content type='html'>So...it has begun...the clingyness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moment I walk out of her life (literally) she cries pitifully. We have resorted to covering her eyes whenever I have to be out of her sight. Gooly is pretty good at helping me with this disappearing act. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the moment she sees me, say upon my return from saving the world mission, she beams so much, exuding a happy aura around her while jumping and slapping anything within her reach (usually the tray attached to the high chair or my mom). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From her, I discovered my hidden talent of ..*cough cough* singing. It takes a special being to appreciate my *ahem* talent. I swear, the moment I hit the notes, she's lulled to sleep almost instantly! (yeah yeah, I know, it could be that my singing is so terrible that she just feigns sleep so I can stop)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really, it's not that bad.."phaaaaantem of the oprah..........." CRACK~ ooppps!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She does little high-5. Little, as in I am not sure if it's really a high 5, or reaching out just to touch cos well, duh,.the hand is there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's really wary of strangers now. Men strangers. If she cries when she sees you, you must look like a male. *smirk* Even when people are not paying attention to her, she spies at the corner of her eyes and bursts into unnecessary tears. Drama!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She likes giving these really low growls/grunts. Try doing that. It hurts the damn throat. I don't know why she does that when she can coos sweetly just like other darling babies. But nope..she growls. Like a monster. She scares my nephew sometimes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 7months, according to books, she should be sitting unsupported. And she should be doing that gladly to watch the world go by. Hah! She hates sitting..she doesn't want to practice sitting..she wants to be part of the actions! She crawls clumsily all over with me tail gating her, holding her waist cos she sure looks wobbly! And sometimes she wants to walk! One foot forward and another and another, when ever she sees opportunity to do so (us holding her armpit, with feet on the ground). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took her to Penang a couple weeks back. She was quite a good traveller, making very little sounds during the journey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End of this month, she will be taking her first flight! Wish all of us luck! (including the other passengers, pilot, co-pilot, air crew).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 months just wooooshed by like that. I'm growing a bit of hair. Yup, me..not her. You see, I dropped quite an amount of hair post-partum. I had to chop my locks (bluff, my hair wasn't curly at all, it was straight like a non-gay), which I felt quite sad to let go. I was beginning to like my long haired look. But the patch of voidness was pretty apparent at the fringe top. So I cut it to below my ears. I didn't like the style, hoping that it will grow faster..and voila..I spotted some "grass-like" hair at the bald area two days ago. It is not a very pretty sight. Oh well, they will grow. They BETTER grow! Such sacrifice of being a mother! Twice! Bah! Bah!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7295200379183261769?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7295200379183261769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7295200379183261769' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7295200379183261769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7295200379183261769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/11/lolly-70.html' title='Lolly 7.0'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8585599662484037226</id><published>2011-10-31T10:11:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T14:56:05.237+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='merepek'/><title type='text'>Listen to goolymom!</title><content type='html'>One of my favorite things to do is browsing through the net.. I have progressed from stalking people's blogs (like yours) to sophisticated online shopping sites  (pa, If you are reading this, I said BROWSE a.k.a screen-shopping). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I go..."oh wow, that's one damn good creation"(I.e the dildo with 5 speeds - kwakwakwa...joking..reallly....I don't surf hamsap Japanese Lolita shops).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, if you really wanna know, some good creations would be those stick on gel -like bras (though it's not something new), the beaba all in one food processor for babies (although it's too expensive for a six months usage?). I have bought cloth diapers online and saved quite some dough there....and there are really cute stuff like Trunki luggage, Korean stlye dresses, etc. which are all too tempting to resist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then..there are some really useless stuff, like:-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A. Snoring bears that comfort babies with..erm..snores. If there is anyone/anything that can snore, that would be me! (not that I am proud...but why waste money on something most of us can do? ......what do you mean you don't snore?? Harumph!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B. A machine that...*giggles*.. are you ready for this..? A machine that tells you the reasons infants cry. This is how it works - You turn the damn thing on, bring it close to your baby when she cries, and the indicator tells you if the baby is hungry, has a wet nappy, is sleepy. It &lt;br /&gt;knows by judging the cries of the baby (soft kerlian type or bawling like chisin type). I am sure there is a section that is labeled dan lain lain as in "how the hell I know why your frigging baby is crying?" . Gosh! Do people actually buy this stuff? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C. A machine that boosts the intelligence of your baby..erm..fetus...Just plug in the machine for a few minutes everyday the moment you conceived, bring it close to your tummy, and voila, you will give birth to Einstein! (mumbles "suckers!")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D. Are then there are devices that will help babies "think" they are still in the comfort of the wombs (heart beat sounds, waves sounds, etc.)..err...sorry, but helllo the baby is out already..wake up wake up. Why bluff her or deny her the truth? Let's get on with the survival mode already, and not wrap them in bubbles (well, in this case, wombs.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, end of reviews. Sigh, how am I gonna earn money thru blogging if I keep giving honest brutal reviews like these???!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8585599662484037226?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8585599662484037226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8585599662484037226' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8585599662484037226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8585599662484037226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/10/listen-to-goolymom.html' title='Listen to goolymom!'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-6274430251842459320</id><published>2011-10-30T10:46:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-10-30T12:40:49.624+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>The waffle story part 2</title><content type='html'>Ok..so the next day while sharing a glass of Chatime bubble tea, in the car..the conversation somehow was directed back to the "waffle story".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gooly, I think, felt a bit suckered for giving away the waffle which he hasn't even had a bite yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I was too generous-lah," he said sounding melancholic, and with a tinge of regret.  "I think I give too much,"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I said.........(long winded words of wisdom - or not, ahead)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry about giving too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In life, we give and we take. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We must feel happy when we give.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God is happy when we give.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we give, we receive. Sometimes we don't, but that's ok too cos we don't give expecting to be rewarded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He nodded and nodded and nodded. (signs of tuning out?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he asked, "You know how does God reward you when you are good?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm..maybe with a slice of meatloaf? - I joked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he said, "Silly mom. Its love. And that's the best reward."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my boy. Full of wisdom over a waffle story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have heard moms teaching kids to be selfish (with added words like "a little bit selfish sometimes" - to perhaps soften the ideology of kiasuism). And I here I am telling my son not to worry about giving too much. Will he be a push over? Will he be taken granted of? Will he be hurt? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I can only say.."Kindness in giving creates love - Lao Tzu."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-6274430251842459320?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/6274430251842459320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=6274430251842459320' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6274430251842459320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6274430251842459320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/10/waffle-story-part-2.html' title='The waffle story part 2'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8102101576230001378</id><published>2011-10-26T21:50:00.008+07:00</published><updated>2011-10-26T23:17:10.219+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>the waffle story part UNO</title><content type='html'>Last week, gooly lamented that he was getting bored of eating vanilla bun for recess. Cant blame him, it has been what..10 months? He's beginning to look like a nun.. I mean bun. Time to change the menu!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I bought him a gardenia waffle instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the very day, as soon as he came home, I asked how was the waffle (note that it was as though I prepared him a Grade A bento set? Actually it was kinda bento-ish cos I put the waffle into a square container shaped like a slice of bread *proud*)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he proceeded tell me the story about the waffle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lam Mee Yoke took it. She just grabbed it. Actually she asked first. Then it dropped on the floor. It was Kwok Fu Shing's fault."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wooooah..hold it hold it. That's a whole lot of info there. Who is Lam Mee Yoke? Why did she take your waffle? Is she your friend? And right at the corner of my heart - Are you being bullied? Bee boo bee boo~~ red alert red alert!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I didn't say what I was thinking. I wanted to know how he felt before planting any unfounded fear into his head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it turns out, Lam Mee Yoke is a good friend, and she didn't have any food with her, and she would really really like to eat a waffle that day. And so Gooly gave his to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you knew Gooly well, you will know that he loves his food.Eating is a biggie to him. He lives to eat( like his mom). So again, I wondered if he was 'pressured' into giving his waffle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus I tried digging for more details without using words like "bullied, forced, etc." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I found out that he wanted to be generous, but not really but in the end, decided to be. A typical 6 year old's frame of indecisive mind. Haha!  So everything is fine..it was just a simple case "should I give, should I not - I think I should." No bullies, momma! Geesh! The imagination of a lactating mom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then we came to the second part of the story, where Mr. Kwok fooled around and caused the waffle to drop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Were you mad?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just a bit. But I must control my temper."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah...the last bit just made me wanna buy him a dozen waffles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the waffle story made me wondered - what constitutes bullying? Many times I have heard parents saying that their kids are bullied. While there are genuine cases whereby one feels ostracized or threatened by bullies, there are just some cases of overtly concerned parents. Say for example, Gooly's waffle story. It did cross my mind that he may be bullied, but I gave it a better thought. First, he's as happy as a lark. Does well academically (wooh...been dying to say this! Should I cap and bold it?? :p).  So what's the problem? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We both agreed - Gooly and I, that Ms. Lam's approach is uncouth. Well, there are many kids who can't verbalise their requests politely. My nephew, for one, says "I like to eat now."  Mind you, it's not like as in "i would like to eat now." He is meaning, I like, gimme gimme gimme. now now now! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the lack of manners, resulting in snatching or asking as though demanding.. have all caused some parents to think they are bullies. And the natural approach would be teaching their own kid some self defense skills i.e say no to your friends, tell teacher if he takes your eraser again..etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno - lah! I suppose because parents love their kids mucho..thus this fierce protection shield.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I kinda like less hostile scenarios. Give kids the benefit of doubt. Pasang radar betul betul. Detect the real bullies, and not just label those who are rude or (fill in own adjectives) as $/&amp;:;$*^#% bullies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Ms Lam, today my son gave you waffle, tomorrow you give him  nasi lemak 2.0 lah*...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shatu mereishia ma.. (simply hentam!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* See see she really say, "Lat sei niamah"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8102101576230001378?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8102101576230001378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8102101576230001378' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8102101576230001378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8102101576230001378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/10/waffle-story-part-uno.html' title='the waffle story part UNO'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8459532364640831037</id><published>2011-10-17T19:58:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T20:08:57.277+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='km-stones'/><title type='text'>The crawling</title><content type='html'>She's on all fours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her brows furrow in full concentration,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is thinking what to do next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She lifts her bum up high,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She jiggles her butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She stops. Sweat on forehead emerges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her arm shakily moves forward. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She loses balance and flops to her side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom says, "Ops! It's ok. You can do it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She tries again with all her might.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time she manages to leap forward, using both her feet, like a frog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom cheers, and pulls toy slightly further away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She tries again and again to reach for the toy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hardwork. But she's determined. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so she crawls, albeit clumsily, before she sits unsupported.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*grins*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bravo!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8459532364640831037?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8459532364640831037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8459532364640831037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8459532364640831037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8459532364640831037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/10/crawling.html' title='The crawling'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-4979475604831644496</id><published>2011-10-15T21:56:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-10-15T22:19:45.250+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>Missed me?</title><content type='html'>Gooly had had an eventful day. Since it was after the school finals, he was allowed to have as much fun as he could. {Utter rubbish. He has had fun whilst taking his exams with very minimal revision} Hence, the moment he awoke till a little while ago, he was playing and playing, with this cousin, that cousin and another cousin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, Lil Lolly was excited, refusing nap times even, because of all the commotion in the house. Naturally I was a bit tied down with her, and got really tired by evening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In between play time, Gooly managed to make an appoinment with me - a Milo date to be precise. But as soon as Lolly hit the sack, I found myself dozing off. And soon, I heard sobbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was Gooly. Scared the crap out of me. Thought he hurt himself or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nobody drank Milo with me *sob* and you are so tired *sob* I didnt want to disturb you *sob* but you promised *sob* good night mummy *sob* your milo *sob* my milo *sob sob* on table *sob*"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such drama!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually I didnt {and don't} really understand what he was saying. I was in a daze still, having been just awaken from a syok slumber. In my head was littered with "What milo? Who milo? Whhaa??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I hugged him. He sobbed harder. He must have missed me after a whole day of fun fun fun sans me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While it was fun playing, Momma is still the best company right before bedtime, eh? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dragged my ass out into the kitchen, and saw a cuppa Milo (made by whom, I dunno). He had finished his. So he watched me drink mine. It was very odd that he kicked a fuss over a Milo date which almost didnt materialize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Odd, but fuzzy warm too, just like the Milo I gulped down for his sake.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-4979475604831644496?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/4979475604831644496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=4979475604831644496' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4979475604831644496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4979475604831644496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/10/missed-me.html' title='Missed me?'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7116193283112017230</id><published>2011-10-13T19:51:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T20:09:53.873+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='km-stones'/><title type='text'>Lolly screams</title><content type='html'>Lolly is such a screaming banshee that she can be classified as a first class noise pollutant.  If you hear or see a shout for no reason babe at the mall, park, library - yep, thats her. But if you are a male, do not go near her. She's gotten wary of men. Good! Thankfully, she adores her dad despite not seeing him that often. i'm telling ya..the dresses he bought her made a whole lot of difference of how selective she can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wallops just about everything we feed her. Drinks water from the spoon like a pro. Heck, she eats like a pro. She's born to eat! Finished a quarter of a small apple, and wanted more. So...yep, she screamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didnt know she could sit till Winn plopped her on the table. Well, not really sitting..more like hunching over.But thats worth mentioning cos apparently Winn believes that the next time I leave Lolly with her, she will magically walk (Lolly, not Winn). But before that..she crawls..backwards. And she propels forward, kinda like a frog. And if she doesnt have much room to explore her new found skill..yep..she screams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also grunts like a troll. Great entertainment for the whole family. Before that she could do the longest ppppbbbbbtttth sound complete with saliva spewing. But that was so last week. This week is grunt and growl...sounds that make her monstrously cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She kinda weaned herself off finger sucking. Kinda..not entirely. She still sucks her fore finger prior to sleeping, but stops as soon as she is asleep. The finger is not perpetually in the mouth like how it used to. That's a relief in a sad way. Relief cos I was told it's so much harder to quit finger sucking than pacifier. And we may need to chop her finger off (my friend is obviously not in the correct mental health to suggest any parenthing tips). Sad cos that was her signature pose. Something that made me smile all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most importantly, when she sees me, she smiles mega big., like I'm special and fantastic like that. Ok, I convieniently left out some people. She smiles whenever she sees ama, korkor, papah.. the whole gang who plays with her. So we are all her favourite things in the world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there..a happy, contended baby who screams for joy. A summary of Lolly's life thus far.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7116193283112017230?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7116193283112017230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7116193283112017230' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7116193283112017230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7116193283112017230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/10/lolly-screams.html' title='Lolly screams'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-2142195175380968049</id><published>2011-10-12T23:52:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-10-12T23:52:57.086+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bohemian babe</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;Supposed to wear this beautiful dress to a dear friend's wedding. But she's getting ahem...slightly big. Sigh! What a waste. She looks absolutely stunning in it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-JvJ5-_HzSRA/TpXF5E8JYxI/AAAAAAAADqU/TAQvQSIJcoU/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-2142195175380968049?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/2142195175380968049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=2142195175380968049' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2142195175380968049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2142195175380968049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/10/bohemian-babe.html' title='Bohemian babe'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-JvJ5-_HzSRA/TpXF5E8JYxI/AAAAAAAADqU/TAQvQSIJcoU/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8660014207753644030</id><published>2011-10-02T19:40:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T20:10:26.842+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='km-stones'/><title type='text'>6.0</title><content type='html'>...the backward crawl has begun, albeit clumsily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we are hanging out more hankies and bibs. Food marathon has also commenced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hereby, declare the 2nd phase of baby's life officially "open".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*cut reben*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*fake smile at paparazzi cameras*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8660014207753644030?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8660014207753644030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8660014207753644030' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8660014207753644030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8660014207753644030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/10/60.html' title='6.0'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-468463205195360646</id><published>2011-10-01T17:14:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T17:31:43.112+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>Impressed</title><content type='html'>The other day, we went to the park and met my nephew's cousin (from his mom's side). This boy is about 11, and my...he is one of the finest boy I have met. He ran towards us, and greeted me and my mom, "Auntie, Por Por" with no prompting from anyone. And he has only met us a couple of times before. I could also see that he takes good care of his little sister. When we asked him stuff, he looked at us and answered reasonably and politely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing impress me more than a child with manners, empathy and kindness, I really dont care about your academic results. First, learn how to carry proper conversatiom, before you worry about the As and Bs. (applicable for moms and dads too.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So whenever I meet someone as like-able, I do pray that Gooly grows to be a gentleman too. Hence, I do give him many opportunities to practice some skills. Like today, a good friend got married. I taught him a good handshake - firm and with confidence. And a sincere 'congratulations'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, I was lining up at the famous assam laksa stall. He was seated with my mom. He walked over to me when it was almost my turn. "Mom, do you need help? Let me help."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now thats a perfect gentleman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like how the boy impressed me, I do hope someday someone will say that my boy is inspiring too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-468463205195360646?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/468463205195360646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=468463205195360646' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/468463205195360646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/468463205195360646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/10/impressed.html' title='Impressed'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7301852121035769167</id><published>2011-09-29T21:46:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-09-29T22:19:48.435+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>Sweet chat</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-wY8fC2c-ciA/ToSEq2UmOVI/AAAAAAAADqQ/oq8NKPMSNuI/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lolly has been awake for a few good hours. Everyone was geting tired, except her. Her bro changed into his jammies, climbed up his bunk bed, ready to call it a night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, I hit the showers - couldnt stand the icky sticky feeling and Lolly's piercing sound. She wasn't crying. She was just making alot of demanding sounds as per norm. i could still hear her complains as the water hit my head. i chose to ignore her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I heard her sweet bro super layaning her, as usual :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is it, mei mei?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mommy is taking her bath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You miss papah, ah?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then i heard him climbing down. Mind you, its a tedious task - this climbing business. But he did that to pacify his sister. And soon I heard her chuckling away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As i stepped out of the bathroom, Gooly asked in a weary tone, "Yawn...can you watch after her now? I'm sleepy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he bade us good night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such a sweey child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lolly too, if only she would stop making so much noise. And go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LIKE NOW!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7301852121035769167?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7301852121035769167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7301852121035769167' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7301852121035769167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7301852121035769167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/09/sweet-chat.html' title='Sweet chat'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-wY8fC2c-ciA/ToSEq2UmOVI/AAAAAAAADqQ/oq8NKPMSNuI/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-2401095663227662444</id><published>2011-09-27T10:39:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T10:46:54.051+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>Just look at her!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;The only homo sapien I know who wakes at 4-am flashing her mega-watt-full-of-gums-and-spits-sans-teeth smile!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-S3I9T_B41BE/ToFFZJfnFNI/AAAAAAAADqM/AFDeid9kBK8/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;picture taken not at 4 am though. But if it was, I am pretty sure its the same charming smile she flashes at any given time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta love her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-2401095663227662444?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/2401095663227662444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=2401095663227662444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2401095663227662444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2401095663227662444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/09/only-person-i-know-who-wakes-at-4-am.html' title='Just look at her!'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-S3I9T_B41BE/ToFFZJfnFNI/AAAAAAAADqM/AFDeid9kBK8/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7600659284753188931</id><published>2011-09-24T12:04:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-09-24T13:22:05.388+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>Secret codes</title><content type='html'>In life, many things, I feel, can be solved with good communication. Be it between spouses, friends, collegues or families. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gooly and I talk, a lot. I would think we communucate well. To an extend sometimes with no words spoken, we know what we feel or think about certain things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like when he does something pleasant, he'd turn around knowing i am there to give him an appreciative smile. Likewise when he sees my frown, he'd know not to push the envelope anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime back I had noticed that he spoke in a smart-ass tone, kinda like mr know-it-all. Of course, I taught him the importance of being humble. At 6, it's kinda hard for him to comprehend the whole works of toning down. Hence, we deviced a code - something that will tell him to drop the tone without having to embarass him (by admonishing him)  in front of others. I said, everytime I give a shake of my head, or when I put my finger on my lips, or when I squeeze his shoulder, it is an indication to shush it - PRONTO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But above all, the best communication between us would be the smiles. Amidst many people, say at a party, we always exchange smiles - the universal way of telling "we are doing ok." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a way, these smiles transpire love too, dont you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7600659284753188931?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7600659284753188931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7600659284753188931' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7600659284753188931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7600659284753188931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/09/secret-codes.html' title='Secret codes'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-6181631852198329273</id><published>2011-09-22T14:29:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-09-22T15:53:03.229+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>Now that he is older..</title><content type='html'>I was looking through the old videos of Gooly. I got all mushy, of course. He was a very very cute boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot he had such long hair. I didnt remember he spoke with an accent (of what, I dont know.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard my own voice, speaking gently to him, laughing many times at his antics. Above all, we always seem to have such fun, whether it was at home, at the park, at the beach (which we frequented). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In retrospect, he seemed very smart for his toddler age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were happy. Not to say that we arent now..but we are just caught up with stuff; me with Lolly, him with school. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I am a better mom for a baby or toddler. I love silly things. I am child-like, to say the least. And now that he's grown a bit, there are things that I cant relate to..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..like Naruto. I used to watch Kipper and Pocoyo with him. I''m just not into super power kungfu manga (I dont even know what is Naruto about). So he has to watch it alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... like guns and snippers and sword games, I just dont make very good sound effects- kapiew...pooosh..pow...kaching.... whats so fun about that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gooly,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I am more impatient with you now. I get irked when your hand writing is intelligible. I get offended with the way you talk. Not&lt;br /&gt; always..but yes..you know I do.. when I give you the 'eye' or silent treatment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that doesnt mean I stopped loving you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never did. I can never fall out of love with you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are my first born.Forgive me if I dont know how to be a mom to a growing child, a boy at that. I' m not going to pretend that I like what you like. And I will not force you to enjoy my activities. Thus, I think, you may not find me suited to be your  best friend, anymore. It scares me a little to think about later stages..when you are a teenager..and then a man. Will the gap be even wider?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say thats growing up...growing apart.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An inevitable yet crucial event in both our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just remember I will never stop loving you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For I know, I'm not perfect.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-6181631852198329273?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/6181631852198329273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=6181631852198329273' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6181631852198329273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6181631852198329273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/09/now-that-he-is-older.html' title='Now that he is older..'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-2729483230005703866</id><published>2011-09-19T22:24:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-09-19T22:46:39.256+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jiwang'/><title type='text'>Zzz</title><content type='html'>Sometimes words cannot express a certain moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More so when the moment lasts just a few seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I need to remember that few seconds, because they are worthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to remember...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..that she was getting ready to sleep. Eyes were shut, fingers (three) in her mouth. She fussed a little, wanting more milk, I reckoned. But I decided to sing, instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABCD..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..at the note of D, a smile crept in. Eyes still closed, fingers wet in her mouth. And she smiled her watermelon smile, liking my tune, loving my voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldnt resist but nuzzled her face. Cheek to cheek, I took a strong whiff of her. Her eyes were still not opened. And she let out a chuckle. With her fingers in her mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is too cute, I tell ya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She finally decided to open her eyes. And she reached out to me. Stroke my cheeks, gently albeit wet. She murmured. I dont know what she said, but it was tender. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep falling in love with her again and again. If i think I loved her 100% today, I will find that I love her more the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats a few seconds moment that needs to be recorded, dont you think? Alas, this writing, though doesnt quite reflect the moment exactly the special way it happened, will suffice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tUjgZyPUWw0/TndexkoHEXI/AAAAAAAADqI/SBl_68YW_cc/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-2729483230005703866?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/2729483230005703866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=2729483230005703866' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2729483230005703866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2729483230005703866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/09/zzz.html' title='Zzz'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tUjgZyPUWw0/TndexkoHEXI/AAAAAAAADqI/SBl_68YW_cc/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-6659435787870366378</id><published>2011-09-18T10:51:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-09-18T11:24:57.190+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>When to shut the gap</title><content type='html'>The other day, Gooly spent half a day at a friend's place. Bless her, she already has 3 kids, and is still willing to take Gooly in (yep, its a refugee camp there!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As usual, that night we have a post mortem session. Ya, we do that all the time, checking our kids' (mis)behaviours during our absence. Very often we just end up with one theory - that we are both crazy mothers anlysing every thing pertaining to their behaviors (including why do kids dig their nostrils and leave traces of evidence on the wall) but that's another story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that day, Gooly has commented something about my friend's child being a weak reader.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my book of manners (yet to be published), that is an offence, under section 2/3A, that warrants a serious punishment - The  Torture of The Long Winded Lecture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To begin, I asked why he said that. Duh! Not like he had a reason, and also not like any reason can justify the uncalled for comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As expected, he gave me a blank look. And then he kinda, in a way explained that he was just saying it, not knowing that it may hurt his friend's feelings. A very typical characteristic of the xy chromosomes species. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i asked, "How would you feel if someone say that about you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But i read well. So its not true. So i will just ignore it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*hyperventilates*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, what if somebody said you are fat?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I will just pretend I didnt hear it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*burst a vessel*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, what if they teased that you are a slow runner?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I AM slow! I just have to try harder!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*pengsan*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, granted..all his responses are what i have taught him - the art of having deaf ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now what i really want to teach is how to shut the gap. So I explained about positive and negative remarks. How some words make one feel good, and how some are just uncalled for. And we practised a whole list of adjectives..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pretty - clap clap&lt;br /&gt;fat - zip the mouth&lt;br /&gt;clever - clap clap&lt;br /&gt;lousy - zip the mouth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..and so forth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, his friend was gracious enough not to feel offended. Kids are like that. They don't take offence easily. I wonder when they grow up to be grumpy and calculative and easily angered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah...analyzing again, eh? Told you I am anal- crazy. Anal as in analyzing..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-6659435787870366378?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/6659435787870366378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=6659435787870366378' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6659435787870366378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6659435787870366378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/09/when-to-shut-gap.html' title='When to shut the gap'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-2905177377349863537</id><published>2011-09-18T05:04:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-09-18T05:49:16.941+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>Hugs</title><content type='html'>I admit. I felt odd when Gooly asked for hugs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has happened a few times. Out of the blue, he'd say, "Mom, can I have a hug?" or "Mom, hug hug." as he opened his arms wide, awaiting me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wondered if he felt insecure or if he was feeling a bit low. I got a bit worried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first few times, while having him wrapped around me, I kinda waited for his confession. Of what, i dont know. Maybe something about a broken heart? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that didnt happen. Everytime after a hug, he'd just walk away happy, smiling and sometimes a nonchalant "I love you, mom." is said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit. That left me feeling strange. A bit like, did he just hug me like he'd kick a ball if he sees one? You know, ball - kick, mom - hug! You know... like he can't resist hugging me. You know..? You dont? Ok, fine..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I didn't know hugs-for-no-reasons exist till now. I mean I hug my kids all the time, for no reasons, but I have never been requested for hugs before. You know, its like my hugs are good and the boy really loves them. *smilze* And I don't see many Asian 6/7 year olds, boys or girls, giving and getting hugs. For no reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, actually there is a reason. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love. What else can it be but love? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having said that, its not like he, or anyone, needs a reason for a hug. Just like kindness. And happiness. And durians (some would say chocolates and ice creams but they are meeeeh to me.) {I'd love to add bags, but I'm abstaining from material goods - a self imposed ban which I intend to adhere to for some time.} Bacically all the goodness in the world. We dont need any reasons for giving and receiving them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, thats a lesson from my boy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-2905177377349863537?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/2905177377349863537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=2905177377349863537' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2905177377349863537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2905177377349863537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/09/hugs.html' title='Hugs'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-6736111943961789867</id><published>2011-09-14T16:58:00.006+07:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T17:41:39.552+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>Potato chips story</title><content type='html'>My dad keeps little packets of potato chips which he happily gives to Gooly when he asks for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually he brings two packets down; one for himself, one for me. I think he loves me and thus shares with me his loots, but I also believe that he is afraid that I take bigger share than I ought to, if there was only one packet. Mana cukup kan?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today he whispered to me, like he was sharing a naughty idea, "How about we take TWO packets each?" I know he was feeling a bit paiseh to ask for more than the usual amount. i like little children to be slightly bashful and not ask for something in a manner which suggests that they totally deserve it. Therefore, I said okeh! He literally jumped with joy, all the way upstairs, to yeh yeh's room and back to where I was. Handed me two packets of chips with the shiniest eyes and widest grin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He offered to rip open the packets, mine first. He's chivalrous like that. Together we munched the chips, exchanging smiles at every opportunity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then decided to savour his second pack for an after-dinner snack. I'm not doing that, I said as I tore open mine. I could see he was in such huge dilemma ; to follow suit or save the best for last - his eyes showed indecisiveness. As I pulled out the first piece from the wrapper, he swallowed his own saliva. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a good mom, I offered him a bite, which he took but it was such a puny bite that I bet he couldnt taste anything. This boy has great manners. So I said, "Take bigger bites!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he went, "No la...no la...no la...you won't have enough."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had no choice but to insist with a louder "No la no la no la...enough la.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We love doing that. The taichi food offering. Sometimes in public too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually he shyly took another bite, and then he walked away with his 2nd packet (I think to keep in a milo tin under the bed). He said, "But later I'm not sharing mine with you ok?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amboi! He said something like he didn't want mine at the first place but I insisted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before i could glare, he had turned around, and added, "Do you mind?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If i said i did, I know he would retract what he said and obligingly share with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, I said, "Sure, you can have all."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he gave me another big smile,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We share our chips with such strong ardour, don't we?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-6736111943961789867?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/6736111943961789867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=6736111943961789867' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6736111943961789867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6736111943961789867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/09/potato-chips-story.html' title='Potato chips story'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-1333995030943716110</id><published>2011-09-06T09:33:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-09-06T09:40:05.051+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiao hiao'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='riang ria'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='papah'/><title type='text'>surprise season 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-LlBz59d-sHk/TmWGX1uy7vI/AAAAAAAADqE/6qwM0k_LTAA/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Told you! It ws gonna be my turn!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A new bag! Yay! The first one he bought without being told, bribed, threatened or scolded. The first one he bought on his sole proviso! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate, Louis, say hello to your new sibling, Raya.. (actually that would be Raya version 7.8. I have tons of them, different colours and sizes, collected over the years of staying in Krungthep.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-1333995030943716110?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/1333995030943716110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=1333995030943716110' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/1333995030943716110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/1333995030943716110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/09/surprise-season-2.html' title='surprise season 2'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-LlBz59d-sHk/TmWGX1uy7vI/AAAAAAAADqE/6qwM0k_LTAA/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-589512591580222350</id><published>2011-09-05T00:49:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T01:33:38.387+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Flushed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='merepek'/><title type='text'>My name</title><content type='html'>I have tried not to tell many people about what I'm gonna tell you because I'm not vain like that. A little, but not too much. But here goes..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few months ago, a good buddy decided to name his baby after me. Ok, probably it wasn't like naming her after me like I am famous or like I saved the world..or 'in honor' kinda sentiment, you know what I mean? Maybe the father just likes my name because it's easy to remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I think I must have been a good person, or at least not a dislikable being, to have a baby named after me. (ok, I gotta stop saying this, cos for all I know, the father thinks anyone can be named that name, and the choice has nothing to do with my charming *cough* character.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really......if I were really an ugly *toot* you wouldn't want your child to bear the same name as me, would you? Like I wouldn't name my daughter Paris, right? Or Godzilla.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny that I didn't ask him why he chose my name. I just merely proclaimed "what an honor" and of course, "a great name, that is" followed by a non-cleavage bearing bow when he announced that hereinafter his baby and I shall bear a common name (one of my charming stunts *cough*). Hmm...or did he ask permission first? Hmmm...... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, whenever he mentions my..her...our name, I get all toasty warmy inside. Like (in a gushy voice), "That's our name..hehehhehe." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's one thing off my bucket list - having someone named after me (sorry! It sounds so cool that I cannot not say it again and again!) Yay! Next, have a stretch of road (preferably 3.25 km long and in Tibet) named after me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, a baby sharing a common but not entirely common name...gotta love her. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.s My name is NOT Earl. Lol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-589512591580222350?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/589512591580222350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=589512591580222350' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/589512591580222350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/589512591580222350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-name.html' title='My name'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-4271869459452812589</id><published>2011-09-04T14:06:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-09-04T14:14:47.210+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='papah'/><title type='text'>surprise!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Zis38fTZyKE/TmMjdRDlClI/AAAAAAAADqA/Dvh3PZiZoFI/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For daddy's girl..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you asked me, he has quite good taste. And if you know him, you'd be so shocked that he actually bought the stuff for his girl. He never...never...never....liked shopping. Not window shopping, not bargain hunting..and especially girlie shopping. These are all bored to death activities for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...well...well...well....anything for his girl , eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hopeful it will be my turn soon...no no..I don't need help with overcoming shopping-phobia. I want a surprise ward-robe too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-4271869459452812589?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/4271869459452812589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=4271869459452812589' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4271869459452812589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4271869459452812589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/09/surprise.html' title='surprise!'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Zis38fTZyKE/TmMjdRDlClI/AAAAAAAADqA/Dvh3PZiZoFI/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7079170650031063727</id><published>2011-09-03T07:56:00.006+07:00</published><updated>2011-09-03T17:06:09.840+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2 sense'/><title type='text'>Dare to discipline</title><content type='html'>Many times when a child misbehaves, I hear the parent says :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- oh she's tired.&lt;br /&gt;- oh she's not feeling well&lt;br /&gt;- oh she's cranky&lt;br /&gt;- oh she's the middle child&lt;br /&gt;- oh she just had a baby sibling&lt;br /&gt;- oh she's hungry&lt;br /&gt;- oh she's young still&lt;br /&gt;- oh her pet turtle just died&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and whatever other 'ohs' they can think of. And voila, all the tantrums or rudeness are justified. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*hyperventilates*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok let me say this slowly and carefully. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is.....your....child....a ...baby....? (ok, shit..this is clearly not working. My brain works like a bullet train. And I have a cute bum to wipe (not mine). Chop! Chop! Let's get this over quick!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, here's my thought. When your child is old enough to verbalise, she can LEARN to tell you her problems without crying or whining. Deal with the tiredness, sleepiness, hunger or whatever that's bugging her with a SOLUTION, not with another problem (crying wastes more energy and make you even more tired lor, duh!). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, I met a girl who's rather aggressive. She shoved another kid for the chair she "reeeeeaaaalllly" wanted because it matched with her blue blouse. *roll eyes*. (Oh, she's wearing blue, that's why she pushed the boy cos she's wearing blue. See what I mean?Am I the only thinking how absurd this sounds. FYI, I repeated the "reason" on purpose to see if it makes better sense. Nope, it still doesn't!) Another time she scolded the maid because oh, that's what maids are for (ok, I made this up :p). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the parent proudly concluded, "My girl won't be bullied. She's tough." Well, here's news, mama - she is the one bullying! Stop giving her excuses to behave like crap. No, let me rephrase...stop giving her the license to ill treat others. She was never bullied before, and there isn't a need for this aggressive behavior to protect herself. If we all behaved in a civilized manner, we don't need these haughty shields, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And isnt it tiring to bring up a child in a hostile manner. The world is quite a beauty if you believe so. Vice versa, it's hell if that's what you think it is. (if it is the latter to you, why choose to bring a baby to this earth, eh? *puzzled*)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some parents are in denial..some are protective. Some even say it's love, thus allowing this ..uhm..freedom to uhm...express themselves *cough* Well, there is a gargantuan difference between liberation and rudeness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you really love your child, dare to discipline. Next chapter, how to discipline......jeng jeng jeng...(kakaka....as if I know)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7079170650031063727?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7079170650031063727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7079170650031063727' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7079170650031063727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7079170650031063727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/09/dare-to-discipline.html' title='Dare to discipline'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8432227367888438166</id><published>2011-08-28T10:35:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T01:35:58.928+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>Taking the lifts</title><content type='html'>One of the things that freaks gooly out would be The Lifts. No, he is not claustrophobic. He's just (very) worried that the doors would slam or squash him (or anyone of us) into pancakes {though I wouldn't mind a svelte flatten pancake figure}. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time we get into one of those things that go up and down and nothing else, he'd jump right in, crossing the line as though hurdling over a river of crocodiles. And he'd be so quick to press the button that holds the doors. "Quick, mom! Hurry up!" he'd holler. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would push the stroller in and say, "Thank you for holding the door. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ding! When it's time to step out, again it's the same routine. "Quick, mom! Hurry up!" while pressing hard the "open" button that you will need a tool to pry his  hand off it (if you want to totally freak him out).Then, again he jumps over the imaginary 1 foot hurdle onto safe ground. Very often, he heaves a sigh of relief while looking over his shoulder, as though he had just escaped from The Lift Of Hell *cue thunderclaps and eerie organ sound*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we have company taking the lift with us (friends and families, not strangers) he always takes charge and lets out a very unnecessary command of "Out! Everybody out! Hurry!" with such strong urgency that we scamper {imagine 911 - people evacuating from burning buildings} *kancheong music*. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But.....it makes me wonder....if he's so afraid, isn't it noble of him NOT to be the first one out, and just let everyone DIE in the lift? He is quite a hero, isn't he? Chivalrous too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday he did the same at KLCC. We got into the lift which was packed like sardines. Me, with the stroller got pushed right to the corner. And he was at the front, holding the fort, so to say. "Mom! I am here, don't worry!" (I like that he's very responsible in letting me know he is ok). When it was our floor to get off, he insisted, as usual that I go first and "make sure baby is safe". A man noticed, smiled and said, "you take care of mummy so well! Very good! And thank you for holding the door for all of us."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That made me beam so much that I am sure KLCC was brighter than Saturn? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so proud of my Captain Gooly - the little boy who is in charge of lifts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8432227367888438166?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8432227367888438166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8432227367888438166' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8432227367888438166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8432227367888438166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/08/taking-lifts.html' title='Taking the lifts'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8541870905470154094</id><published>2011-08-26T06:19:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-08-26T06:19:23.453+07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Meatball Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;Touched!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Y7WQDoR6w-E/TlbYeVMgdPI/AAAAAAAADp8/bzZSOU30KvE/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8541870905470154094?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8541870905470154094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8541870905470154094' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8541870905470154094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8541870905470154094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/08/meatball-story.html' title='The Meatball Story'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Y7WQDoR6w-E/TlbYeVMgdPI/AAAAAAAADp8/bzZSOU30KvE/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-4738949729921791245</id><published>2011-08-19T22:31:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T22:43:57.079+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>Gooly makes Lolly laugh</title><content type='html'>Her face lights up the moment she sees her brother. She gives a high pitch shriek to show her pleasure and excitement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite me being the one attending to her hunger pangs all the time, it is not I who is her utmost favourite person in the world. This is a very serious offence of "kacang lupakan kulit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways..Gooly does this silly,simple monstrous ravenous UHM UHM UHM sound and it tickles her without fail - all the freaking time! I admit that I tried to copy the sound, but she just looked at me blankly which clearly says, "Mom? Hello? Save it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to ask Gooly how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You have to do it high pitch, and then low pitch. And fast. But not too fast."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uhm uhm uhm uhm uhm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No response.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he did it..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here is the video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="560" height="345" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/36TU8z9bOBc" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Darn. How hard is it to make an UHM sound? I make that sound when I eat all the time. Geesh..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-4738949729921791245?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=71ff4c459d39ef78&amp;type=video/mp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/4738949729921791245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=4738949729921791245' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4738949729921791245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4738949729921791245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/08/gooly-makes-lolly-laugh.html' title='Gooly makes Lolly laugh'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/36TU8z9bOBc/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-4394901624809478658</id><published>2011-08-19T11:22:00.006+07:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T12:08:56.714+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jiwang'/><title type='text'>luckiest gals</title><content type='html'>When mom announced that she was leaving the country for a well deserved holiday, I was, admittedly a bit worried about handling the two kids of my own, on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meeeh! If I could travel back in time, I'd tell myself, "Hey, Pretty..there is nothing to worry about. Your son is amazing in helping out. The best helper you can have!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's like the man of the house - that boy. He fills the tub up when I need to bathe lolly. Saves me lots of bending, reaching out, squatting work-outs. He scoops whatever hair (mine, I am shedding so much!) he sees floating. He talks to her soothingly. Gives high fives when he deems baby has done a marvelous job at "swimming". Makes her chuckles so much that the sound of laughter vibrates through the entire house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days ago, we went to town to meet a friend, and have dinner. At the food court. My other friend (I do have more than a singular friend, just so you know) did let out a slight gasp, thinking that it was a suicidal mission. Ok she didn't say that. Maybe she said I was brave or something. You know, two kids (one handsome but ravenous, the other a time bomb unpredictable crying machine), a heavy Doraemon diaper bag (Doraemon as in magical, not a picture of the fatty round image of himself), a stroller (which topples if I lift baby up without first removing the diaper bag hung at the handle). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways..there we were. Funny that I didn't feel vulnerable. Well, not funny once I figured out it was because I had the greatest helper - Gooly. He is so street smart that he pulled the stopper at the wheels of the stroller (so it won't get dragged away by strangers easily) while &lt;br /&gt;he sat on a nearby table while I carried the tray of food. And he never let baby out of his sight. Well, not that she moves, but his eyes didn't wander off (to ogle at girls). Nope, not even one second. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when Lolly made a slight sound of displeasure, he offered her the milk bottle, her pacifier, her finger and his own finger. In that particular order, but got stop at his last attempt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was so good that I bought him a milk shake. It is at times like this that I think he truly deserves anything in the world (but we settled for just a milkshake that day :p)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's that perfect, to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have asked if he would prefer a day out without Lolly so that he can do whatever he likes without having to care for that girl, or not have a trip cut short because she's tired or we ran out of milk. He is after all, a child too. He said no. "Never mind-lah. So poor thing if meimei stays at home.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lolly, aren't we two the luckiest gals in the world to have such a caring and loving korkor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1MtZakuRSo8/Tk3k7mlWpoI/AAAAAAAADpw/KIP7sPOCCwo/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" There, there..don't worry meimei. Don't cry. It's ok..." - always reassuring his baby sister when she seems distressed. I *heart* &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-4394901624809478658?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/4394901624809478658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=4394901624809478658' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4394901624809478658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4394901624809478658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/08/luckiest-gals_19.html' title='luckiest gals'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1MtZakuRSo8/Tk3k7mlWpoI/AAAAAAAADpw/KIP7sPOCCwo/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-9192841626581875182</id><published>2011-08-16T20:40:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T20:53:00.413+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>We've been out!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-u1s-wFKwFvU/TkpzQ09ktrI/AAAAAAAADpo/d-R_GU6ocfQ/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been very brave, bringing lolly out all the way to town and back - solo. With a heavy bag. Very heavy bag...and a stroller...and a thousand bibs..and enough milk to feed the army.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting the hang of it...and enjoying the attention we get. Comelnya...sho cute...aiya, hou tuck yi...are words uttered by total strangers. About her, not me (ya! Ridiculous, I know!). And oh yes, "gorgeous" by a mat salleh lady. And also "lolilolili" by an Indian lady pinching her cheeks, and I'm sure she meant cute too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you reckon? Is it her rotund shape? Or hairless head that's so appealing? Could be her finger sucking show too? Or the way she smiles revealing nothing but gums (and saliva)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah well.. As long as she brings joy to the world..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-9192841626581875182?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/9192841626581875182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=9192841626581875182' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/9192841626581875182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/9192841626581875182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/08/blog-post.html' title='We&apos;ve been out!'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-u1s-wFKwFvU/TkpzQ09ktrI/AAAAAAAADpo/d-R_GU6ocfQ/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-3185182900908081809</id><published>2011-08-16T13:37:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T20:12:29.060+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='km-stones'/><title type='text'>Another growing up phase..</title><content type='html'>While one lost his first front tooth, the other has started to reach out (for the stars!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My babies are growing up too fast! Blimey!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-3185182900908081809?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/3185182900908081809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=3185182900908081809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/3185182900908081809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/3185182900908081809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/08/another-growing-up-phase.html' title='Another growing up phase..'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-419823868790643997</id><published>2011-08-11T13:48:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T20:13:08.060+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='km-stones'/><title type='text'>she totally flipped!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;official flip over Olympic event starts today. 4 .5 mths baby receives applause with a trace of saliva on chin.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-dA1IdHAadpw/TkN7WKNmT2I/AAAAAAAADpc/i2C73lmLssU/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-419823868790643997?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/419823868790643997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=419823868790643997' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/419823868790643997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/419823868790643997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/08/she-totally-flipped.html' title='she totally flipped!'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-dA1IdHAadpw/TkN7WKNmT2I/AAAAAAAADpc/i2C73lmLssU/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7039989593682127638</id><published>2011-08-10T21:54:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-08-10T22:01:11.761+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><title type='text'>Movie without me</title><content type='html'>- Do you wanna catch a movie with papah?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Transformers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I don't like Transformers anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Hmmmm..what other movie is there to watch? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The Zookeeper. I saw the advertisement. It's quite funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Ok..you go watch with papah. I'll stay home with baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Oh mom..you can come with us. Mei mei can stay with nainai,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Nainai is leaving for {another country} tomorrow, remember?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Oh yaaaaa! Never mind lah..I will try to remember the funny parts and tell you when I come back ok?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Ok-lah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(remember to leave some pop corns for me too!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7039989593682127638?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7039989593682127638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7039989593682127638' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7039989593682127638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7039989593682127638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/08/movie-without-me.html' title='Movie without me'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-5256760632023072200</id><published>2011-07-30T11:03:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-30T16:25:01.237+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>Confession of a driver</title><content type='html'>One of my favorite things to do, can you freaking believe, is going to school. Gooly's. The near distance probably makes the task less undesirable. I know some moms who literally have to walk across a football field or brave the horrendous traffic to ferry those lucky children. Thus the cussing of this ferrying chore for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I admit, to start the mechanical engine of my butt to get out of the house is often difficult (with silent malediction). But once I reach the school, my heart is quite fluffy with sunshiny feeling. I remember having to park the car, hold his hand, say goodbye a million times at the start of the school year. Then gradually, his independence grow. He would just get down on his own, very often looking a little bit clammy, back his shoulder to make sure I am still there giving him a last wave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, he gets off, sometimes forgetting to say goodbye (till I have to honk to get a wave), and often being greeted by loud chorus of his name made by his friends. They drag the bags along side by side, always laughing, probably at some silly jokes like, "Your mom is so fat that I..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love watching him walking into school, all gown up..and most importantly, happy. I keep smiling and waving even though it is a little bit of bereavement that we will be separated 6 hours a day, unlike those days when we were joined at the hip 24/7. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have my smile fixed too during after school pick ups. When the bell rings, the students always give a big shout, feeling jubilant, running away free from the "prison". Many times, I see the clumsy ones fall only to pick themselves up with a grin. I see happy faces. I see dirty ones (often belonging to boys). I see pretty girls with ponytails (and I imagine what it would be like for lolly). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see Mandeel, the only non Chinese girl in Goolys class. She always greets me, either with a smile or a shy, "hello, auntie." Oh hi, dear child... I hope you are coping well. It's difficult to learn a whole new language, eh? Hang in there. It gets easier - I say these words but only with my own smile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I see him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beaming, always happy to see me. In his hand, there is always something that he'd like to show me - stickers from friends, little notes, or a star from the teacher. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How was school?" - the preamble to our after school conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fine!" and we walk, hand in hand, sometimes crossing over to the ice cream man for a cone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along the way, there is always someone calling out his name (strangely that they are mainly girls) to say good bye. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  have a feeling my son is quite popular in school*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* he probably tells the best "your momma so fat" jokes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-5256760632023072200?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/5256760632023072200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=5256760632023072200' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/5256760632023072200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/5256760632023072200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/07/school-pick-ups.html' title='Confession of a driver'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8192814258053247420</id><published>2011-07-29T03:05:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T20:14:05.648+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>Lolly - the screaming banshee</title><content type='html'>Lolly, at 4 months old has, strangely developed a bourgeoning talent of opera singing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 3 am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my lard. It is quite painful to hear her screaming voice at such an ungodly hour. Then again, she is asleep, as much as 9 hours during daylight that I can almost understand that she wants to practice using her larynx when she is awake. Almost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't know what it is that she voices out (duh! But of course!)  but they are often punctuated with smiles and laughter. And sometimes a brief silence, as though she awaits or expects a response from the audience of her poorly attended concert (me!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During interims, she sucks her finger. Fore finger, to be exact. It's strange because the thumb is a popular choice amongst these suckers, no? Tut, tut, tut, she sucks, slobbering her chin with saliva. She sure makes it seem so tasty that I want to shove my own finger (or hers) into my mouth to see if it really warrants old Tuck Kee's motto of "finger licking good ."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quiet moments do come by when she feels her throat hoarse (I'm sure she does!) and we lay side by side. Sometimes I smile first and she imitates me. And there are times that she initiates the smile. For sure upward lips are duplicated despite the odd hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have adopted a ritual of tracing my finger around and around her ..well, round face (because there really isn't much to do at 3 am). I also gingerly trace her upside down Nike swoosh eyebrows, finally reaching her button nose with a tap tap tap. This silly game makes her happy. She scrunches her nose, and lets out an audible chuckle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My silly nocturnal baby owl. If it's not for her cute face (and equally cute fingers) I'd have...... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nah! I wouldn't have done anything harsh. Even if it means losing sleep and having ear-aches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's how much mommy loves you, lolly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.50 am. Shall we sleep now, baby?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8192814258053247420?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8192814258053247420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8192814258053247420' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8192814258053247420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8192814258053247420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/07/lolly-screaming-banshee.html' title='Lolly - the screaming banshee'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8931804808467216468</id><published>2011-07-22T11:38:00.007+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-22T12:14:45.758+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><title type='text'>Amazing gooly?</title><content type='html'>The current arrangement for now, since my sis is 8 hours flight away from home, is to care for my nephew, Harry Potter a few hours during the weekdays, and full day on week ends. My hands are quite tied with lolly, and my mom needs to prepare lunches and dinners. That leaves..............Mr Gooly to be in charge of that fella!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually they just cekik each other until either one muntah darah. But there are times when we can really see how a doting brother gooly can be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say, like...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Saturday,gooly volunteered to bathe Harry. Some 6 years olds have problems cleaning themselves, what more helping a younger chap, who comes with an attitude the size of the African map. He carefully instructed him to wash where it's hidden and obscure to a four year old. And then gingerly lathered his hair with shampoo, reminding him to shut his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All these I could hear. And I couldn't help feeling proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later in the afternoon, ahma who like any other grandmas, being obsessed with poops and pees, wondered aloud if Harry has done his thang. Gooly nonchalantly said yes. "Are you sure? And how do you even know?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I helped him washed his butt."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow! While we were all busy doing one thing or another, I'm so glad that gooly is just as helpful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One last "story" - Harry had wanted to pee while I was at the stall buying durians. Gooly brought him down from the car, headed to the longkang, armed with his tumbler. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yo! Why did you bring the tumbler down?" I was puzzled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then saw him pouring water onto Harry's hand, with very wise words of, "Wash you hands after peepee!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amazing kid, ain't he? He is so much more helpful and singmuk than my maid, whom, by the way we have fired with no regrets!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh ya... That reminds me..one other time, lolly was shouting so much (yeah, she shouts when she wants something, very seldom she cries.) she didn't want the bottle. Also refused to be carried. Which is really rare. What was it that she wanted? Aiyor! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, maybe you should change her diaper.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn! He's right! I had forgotten to change her! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so all was well once that was done. I grinned and let out a "phew" to gooly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, next time just remember, it's either milk or diaper, ok?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YES, SIR!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8931804808467216468?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8931804808467216468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8931804808467216468' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8931804808467216468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8931804808467216468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/07/amazing-gooly.html' title='Amazing gooly?'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-5178027513103568718</id><published>2011-07-20T20:08:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T20:11:10.420+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>shaved!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;mini me&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-0mv9vYJ1OH8/TibTOWuaXlI/AAAAAAAADpY/Q-JdavUMxXg/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the heck. She didn't have much hair, to begin with. So I shaved it all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the "mini me' is not related to me. Can you guess who? *chuckles* but she is really the cuter version. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love her mucho, with hair or without. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My doll, she is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-5178027513103568718?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/5178027513103568718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=5178027513103568718' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/5178027513103568718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/5178027513103568718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/07/shaved.html' title='shaved!'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-0mv9vYJ1OH8/TibTOWuaXlI/AAAAAAAADpY/Q-JdavUMxXg/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-4110731049084206517</id><published>2011-07-16T12:18:00.007+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T18:03:46.248+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>Sports day</title><content type='html'>Gooly's school was having its annual sports day event today. For weeks gooly contemplated on going or not. He was not chosen for any events. But he'd still like to go to watch. Initially he thought it was compulsory to go, but when I said it wasn't , he kinda fleet towards "stay home to play with his cuz" agenda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my part, there was a lot of "uhm....errr...are you sure you want to go?" because waking up early is not exactly my favorite thing to do. Of course, staying under the hot sun is not favorable as well. But the final card was still in his hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally he decided on going. So I dropped him off at school so early that i surprised my neighbour (cos they never see me until after noon. Bwahahaha). For making it on time and safely despite with eyes half shut, I do deserve a pat on my back, don't I? That aside, gooly was a bit apprehensive as he wasn't sure where to gather or assemble. But he just braved himself and climbed down the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not long later, I received a call from a parent. According to her, gooly seemed kinda worried. Reason being, very little of his classmates showed up. Only a handful of those participating in events were present. In fact, I do think he was the ONLY non-participating member from his class. I asked if he wanna come home, he said, "no." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That parent was nice enough to accompany him (I keep meeting awesome people that I should really thank god!) So all was well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking - NONE of the classmates were there. Sad ain't it? That parents don't care about non -academic activities. Or it could be children these days  are all made of candles; they melt under the sun. So nonono...they ain't  no going for a stupid sports event. (I didn't like the sun either, but lathered him with SPF 30- problem solved.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And most importantly.......(read on)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite not knowing what to anticipate, and then finding out that NONE of his usual gang was there, gooly was adamant on being on location. I just had to ask why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I just wanted to support my friends who are running.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that's what I call good spirits!!  That's what's missing from many parents' values. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah..so to those who went to the mall or slept in late or simply discouraged your child from going to school today, guess he/ she never got to learn about semangat muhibbah today eh? Then again, it was Gooly who taught me this valuable lesson today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what's more, watching those athletes run, hop, jump encouraged Gooly to fair better in sports. He would like to go again next year, as a participant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gooly, I will be there to support you then! 100% :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-4110731049084206517?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/4110731049084206517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=4110731049084206517' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4110731049084206517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4110731049084206517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/07/sports-day.html' title='Sports day'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-2293089555181705248</id><published>2011-07-14T18:21:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T18:55:55.269+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gila monster'/><title type='text'>Party in the car!</title><content type='html'>Today we -mom and I, out of boredom decided to take Lolly for a spin. First we had to pick Harry Potter,my loud-speaker nephew up from the nanny's. And then travelled forth to school to pick gooly up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five minutes before the school bell rang, Missy decided that she didn't like to be stuck in the car. Thus she cried. She cried and cried and cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And cried some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I rushed down and hurried gooly with a very serious, "Quick, mei mei is in the car -CRYING!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sensing the urgency, he sped up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon entering the car, we discovered that Lolly was still in a bawling mood. My mom has turned on her grand-motherly mode, trying to calm her down with an equally high decible chanting of " ola ola....sayang sayang...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile Harry Potter was re-enacting a Tom and Jerry dialogue (which we have heard a million times) on top of his lungs, totally oblivious about the crying baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there.. We had a cacophony of sounds in a confined area. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Waaaaaaaaah........ola ola sayang sayang.....and then Tom bang his head and Waaaaaaaaah.......ola ola sayang...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wooooooah.....what a party. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I contributed some noise too, of course - "Harry! Be quiet!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you haven't noticed, the only person who was calm and collected was Gooly. At one point, he soothingly said, "Mei Mei, are you tired? It's ok. We are reaching soon. Then you can sleep in your sarong ok. Don't worry...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was palpitating at first. His calming words brought peace to my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the saga was over, he confided that he was hoping for an after school ice cream, but too bad his lil sis was in a cranky mood. "It's ok. We can have one next time when she's not crying," he added.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow! Everyday I thank God for such a darling in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise can you imagine?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Waaaahhhhh... Ola ola sayang.....Tom hit Jerry..bang....weeeeeek.....ola ola...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, can I have an ice cream?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gah! I would have crashed the car into the longkang, I tell you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-2293089555181705248?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/2293089555181705248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=2293089555181705248' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2293089555181705248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2293089555181705248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/07/party-in-car.html' title='Party in the car!'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-1082522773908029497</id><published>2011-07-13T09:02:00.006+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T18:09:23.526+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jiwang'/><title type='text'>Missing</title><content type='html'>Two years ago, just like any mother in the world with a motor mouth kid, I had wanted to cut the apron string.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted him to be independent (read: wipe his own ass).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was scared that he would turn up to be "mummy's boy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus, I snipped snipped snipped the string away. A little by little. First by sending him to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I remember sending him to school, wanting so much that he'd just climb down the car on his own, instead of holding his hand, waving good bye a hundred times, and kissing him just as many times. Not that I hated it...it was just that there were times that I'd rather drive, drop, go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what...my wish came true. I now drive, drop, go everyday. Not even a chance to kiss and hug. Heh, try that and the car behind will honk you for stalling the traffic queue for 3 seconds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I didn't care the other day. He had clambered down with his heavy bag. I honked. He turned around. I blew him a kiss. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He frowned a little. Put his hand on his hips, as if annoyed. And a smile crept in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if he misses me as much as I do, him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss doing stuff with him. Just the two of us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he doesn't wanna watch kungfu panda 2 with me. He doesn't want transformers 3 either. Neither does he want to jalan jalan aimlessly at the mall with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that what growing up, for a boy means?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I lost those kisses on the lips forever?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where have all the silly banters gone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you, son. But if that's how boys grow to become men... I'll just have to let you go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-1082522773908029497?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/1082522773908029497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=1082522773908029497' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/1082522773908029497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/1082522773908029497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/07/missing.html' title='Missing'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-6542944191627698911</id><published>2011-06-28T18:56:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T20:05:30.435+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>Chasiu</title><content type='html'>This afternoon gooly got a good scolding from me. On the way to school. In the car. For at least 15 minutes. Yeap, I actually stopped the car to give him a full fledged lecture. Something about manners, I think. Gawd! I was so long winded, I myself had forgotten what superb speech I spewed. *wipe saliva*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later in the evening, I asked if he enjoyed my scolding session. Sick humor I have, I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my surprise, he answered YES!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucky for him that I was in a much better mood (with a durian ice cream cone in hand), I didn't continue with the sequel of The Scolding. I asked why instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because I turned off my ears.." he said, licking his chocolate cone.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Jaw dropping ensued. A slight grin emerged. Both from my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How dare you!" I managed in between slurps of ice cream licking, and laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When you scold scold scold, I just switched off. Ding! (sound effect some more) Then when you asked me a question, I quickly turn back on, then I can answer. Ding!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's rather smooth, I must say. I didn't know he had zonked out if he had not told me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I admit that was kinda cool. So I asked if he could teach me the trick, something I can use when talking to certain people. Thus a crash course on Idiots Guide - How To Pretend You Are Listening When Your Mom Nags Like Forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the thing, I'm sure he has learned his lesson (the one about manners). It's just that every mom has this nagging software installed making every damn lesson longer and more painful than necessary. Thank God boys (and possibly men) have this program called Selective Hearing to survive all the noise pollution.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;But still, I did mumble about an old Chinese proverb about "giving birth to roast pork" at some point of his confession. Thus the title of this post. :p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-6542944191627698911?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/6542944191627698911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=6542944191627698911' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6542944191627698911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6542944191627698911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/06/chasiu.html' title='Chasiu'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-4986846569697534590</id><published>2011-06-18T20:23:00.006+07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T22:16:45.919+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ape ape je'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='riang ria'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='merepek'/><title type='text'>The 80s shop</title><content type='html'>Today we went to a shop which supposedly sells clothes from Korea and japan at very cheap prices. As usual, when there is a bargain to be found, it has to be hidden at some obscure places. We found it, nonetheless, climbed up a flight of stairs and to our disappointment saw clothes that befit Queen Elizabeth and well, maybe Anita Mui.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We giggled ourselves silly pointing out the gaudy purple dress with shoulder pads the size of my padded bra, which I assure you, ahem, is gargantuan. But we sensitively turned off our giggly mode when the old lady who runs the shop was nearby lest she be offended. She enthusiastically showed us around suggesting certain styles for us. My friend even politely obliged to try on a tweed skirt, which I must say will look kinda cute with argyle knee length socks. But only if you are 18. And stay in London. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hung around a little longer cos we just didn't want to offend the sweet old lady. As we left, I even lied that I will tell my friends about her place. My friend chipped in that we'd love to stay longer to slowly browse through her stocks but not today. Another day, alright?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people call it vintage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But sorry, it was just plain old fashion to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went back into the car, and kicked our friend's ass for bringing us to such a fruitless place. It was a fun girls day out. Sans the kids. Just like the old times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-4986846569697534590?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/4986846569697534590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=4986846569697534590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4986846569697534590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4986846569697534590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/06/80s-shop.html' title='The 80s shop'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-4954282085312682425</id><published>2011-06-18T18:38:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T18:38:59.035+07:00</updated><title type='text'>The lion sleeps tonight..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;But not us. No. Never at 4 am. It's the best time to play dress up and gossip. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-S88__7oEehE/TfyOT7WaWbI/AAAAAAAADaw/i7lJytR66kE/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-4954282085312682425?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/4954282085312682425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=4954282085312682425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4954282085312682425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4954282085312682425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/06/lion-sleeps-tonight.html' title='The lion sleeps tonight..'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-S88__7oEehE/TfyOT7WaWbI/AAAAAAAADaw/i7lJytR66kE/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8377993965675030038</id><published>2011-06-18T18:27:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T18:52:24.173+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>4.30am</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;p&gt;When she smiles like that, the whole world smiles. Even at wee hours of the morning.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ZQlTsO4YrBQ/TfyLrhFPDMI/AAAAAAAADas/w4OtIfl_66c/PhotoShake.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8377993965675030038?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8377993965675030038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8377993965675030038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8377993965675030038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8377993965675030038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/06/430am.html' title='4.30am'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ZQlTsO4YrBQ/TfyLrhFPDMI/AAAAAAAADas/w4OtIfl_66c/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-6676582664276352908</id><published>2011-06-17T22:57:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T23:14:50.180+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>my lil helper</title><content type='html'>Of course he has no breasts to substitute me (I could use some surrogate breasts), but he is the best help in the house. He fetches anything, everything for baby willingly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is not jealous at all. In fact, he is so proud of his lil sis that a coo sounds like a whole song to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has much better common sense and hygiene practice than kakak. He asked if the pacifier is clean every time he sees us shoving it into baby's mouth. He washes it when he sees a speck of foreign entity on it. He only touches the handle and not any part of the pacifier which comes in contact with baby's mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I have an affair with the medela pump, he keeps her entertained. It really does make breast pumping more fun watching them "talking" and smiling and laughing at each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time he manages to get a happy response from her (usually a loud and excited shriek), he is as proud as a peacock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is disappointed when she is asleep. He can't wait for her to wake so he can have endless soliloquies with her (with me as the observing party).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves her so much that he thinks she is the cutest baby in his universe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves feeding her (using the bottle lah). So much so he is wiling to drop anything he is doing (example: tv time) to fulfill this duty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you impressed? Heck, I know I am!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And proud, too. :)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-X1KhQEo9tPY/Tft5TBzyvVI/AAAAAAAADak/1fIjPiDqTeU/PhotoShake.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-6676582664276352908?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/6676582664276352908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=6676582664276352908' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6676582664276352908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6676582664276352908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-lil-helper.html' title='my lil helper'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-X1KhQEo9tPY/Tft5TBzyvVI/AAAAAAAADak/1fIjPiDqTeU/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-1129765067905360071</id><published>2011-06-17T15:37:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T22:19:02.040+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Living in Bkk'/><title type='text'>Bangkok flashback</title><content type='html'>We used to stay in Bangkok, Gooly and I. For 4 years. A period I deem not long enough. If I could, I really would have stayed on with Papah. Alas, due to various reasons (which &lt;b&gt;DO NOT &lt;/b&gt;involve the authority) we reluctantly bade farewell to the Kingdom of Smiles in 2009.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, a friend posted a video (on FB) which was produced by the Tourism of Thailand (I think). As the images of Thailand showing its beauty and charm reeled before my (misty) eyes, I realized that I miss the kingdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot. *sniff*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, when I first moved there, I hated it. (Homosapiens have this very annoying and lousy mechanism called "adapting to new life.") I didn't like their '&lt;i&gt;maipenrai&lt;/i&gt;' (never mind, it's ok) culture - something which I translated very unfairly as to the Thais having very lackadaisical attitude. This sentiment is clearly reflected in my very first few posts, with regards to 'living in Bangkok.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as I got to know the locals better and understand, adapt and accept their way of life, I find that people of Thailand are very charming. Again, the feelings were reflected in the latter posts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss giving and receiving 'wais' - the gentle mannerism of clasping the two hands with head slightly bowed which I find very humbling. No matter how many times I do it, I do not exude the beauty and grace of the action. Little Thai girls even give a little curtsy when they 'wai'. But apparently they can't over-do it lest they be called pompous. It's the same when the ladies talk. It's ok to have opinions but not be overtly confident. It's all about striking a balance, I suppose. I find all these very amusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a very grave mistake when I first moved there though. Intrigued by the gentleness of the action, I was giving 'wais' freely to the kids in my neighbourhood. Aiyayaya..... To my embarrassment, I found out that a 'wai' is not to be given to a child as it is believed to bring them bad luck. &lt;i&gt;Khor tod ka&lt;/i&gt;..I didn't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Likewise, one should not touch the head of a person. Do not ruffle a kid's head as a form of affection like we often do here. And so, one day, I found an older child using his two hands to cup Gooly's face while saying, "Nalaak." (cute). I find his method equally affectionate, if not more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember my kind old neighbors. The one on my left spoke very little English. But she still ratlled on in thai to me every day. Something I found a lil annoying at first cos I was tired of saying, "Mai kau jai." (I don't understand). But now, I miss her toothless smiles, and wonder a lot how they are and if Nong Bang, her son has gone through the operation which will make him not limp anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if the little girl with down syndrome has gone to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if they remember me as fondly as I do of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone once said I'm a Thainese. She meant it as a joke. But I think it's cool. And therefore, I declare, I'm a Thainese - through and through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sawadeeka.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-1129765067905360071?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/1129765067905360071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=1129765067905360071' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/1129765067905360071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/1129765067905360071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/06/bangkok-flashback.html' title='Bangkok flashback'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-6475695579841250750</id><published>2011-06-13T07:43:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-06-13T08:12:08.951+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='merepek'/><title type='text'>I use Babelfish</title><content type='html'>There were a few times that Lolly awoke and started calling out for attention. She didn't do it the conventional way - through crying. No, no, no. Crying is so not her style. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She would just shriek in her high pitch voice. Sometimes it sounds like she's singing a tune even. But sometimes of course, it sounded like she was just screaming her lungs off ala Banshee (in X-men). With No Tears.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I would magically appear before her, saying, "Voila, your most favourite person who is on call 24/7 pops right in front of you whenever you shout. Chak!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And she in turn, flashes the most adorable smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Look!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y1mnMaJ5gEw/TfVdk1BwU2I/AAAAAAAADag/szG6tvdc1Kw/s200/IMG_2264.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617498997505676130" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Truth be told, I do feel heroic. You know, it's like she calls for help, and I appear, and she breathes a sigh of relief (Phew! Mom! I'm so glad you are here!) and she smiles. Happy ending. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes &lt;s&gt; I use Babelfish to translate her babbles &lt;/s&gt;, I imagine our 'conversations'.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She: Weeekkkkk! Wwwweeek! (Mom! Mom!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Yes.... Super hero here!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She: *smiles* Anggu....angueee... (Where did you go, Mom! I felt so alone!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: There there there.. everything's ok now. Mommy is here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She: *smiles wider* Gee, Mom.. you look great in your super-hero outfit!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: You do have an eye for fashion....Just like me...*wink*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She: Whatever~ I'm going back to sleep now. See you in a while. You better be here when I open my eyes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Yes, Your Highness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Another happy ending.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Actually, that did happen (minus the silly translation). She shouted, and I appeared. She then smiled, and dozed off to sleep again. I do feel so wanted and needed. By my life size doll.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously (like I can ever be! Teehee!) I do think both of us have pre-installed antennas.Right at our navels (aka goolypop). That device that makes us so connected. When she sees me, her face lights up a million watt. And the words, MOM IS MY FAVOURITE MILK SUPPLIER clearly appear in neon lights. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But my mom begs to differ. She says her face lights up just as much even when she is looking at the ceiling fan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pffttt... Well, at least she is a happy lark. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-6475695579841250750?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/6475695579841250750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=6475695579841250750' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6475695579841250750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6475695579841250750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-use-babelfish.html' title='I use Babelfish'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y1mnMaJ5gEw/TfVdk1BwU2I/AAAAAAAADag/szG6tvdc1Kw/s72-c/IMG_2264.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-620451600620824964</id><published>2011-06-03T22:17:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-06-04T00:01:51.950+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='merepek'/><title type='text'>My milkshake</title><content type='html'>The other day, for conversation sake, I told someone (over the phone) that lolly's neck is already quite strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what was her response?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Must be your breast milk.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what was my response?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rolled my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, I did. They probably would have rolled out of the sockets if not for the muscles that kept them in place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok she probably meant it as a compliment but citing my milk as the sole reason for my baby's development milestones (which could be a fact, according to the experts) is just way too much, for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because one day, I may just wake up and decide not to "pump it"(sing BEP) anymore and I'd get blamed for many things. I'd be called a bad momma who had breasts for nothing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But but why would you stop breastfeeding? (that's you sounding very 'concerned')&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I..uhm...am lazy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gah! Woah! WHAT?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep..you may pick up your jaw. They are, after all my breasts. I have the liberty to decide what to do with them. That includes not being sucked by Mr.Medela everyday - 5 times, mind you (6 when I'm in the mood). Whilst we are at it, I would really want my original boobs back. The non leaky ones, please. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what if she loses her rosy cheeks once you stop supplying her breast milk, I hear you asking? Well, I'd buy her  blusher. Bobby Brown. The best, I tell you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if her IQ drops to 92? (which is the Malaysians average score). Tough one. Looks like she can't be a rocket scientist then. Bummer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if her hair drops? (I'd ask Prince William if having little hair is an issue.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh gee wait.. I think I know why Gooly scored 76 (only?) for his maths test. Oh no! Cos I didn't breast feed him!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And his nose is kinda flat. Could it be because of the caesarean that I had instead of natural water birth? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if..what if.. What if...could it be..could it be..could it be..Sigh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the thing..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While some of you are really martyr about this whole child birthing thing (No drugs! Torn vaginas!! Yay!) there are some of us who just don't aspire to be Joan of Arc (though I really like the pixie chic hairstyle she had in the movie) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to note. I love you, gooly and lolly. Even though I cut you guys out (hey, not entirely a bad thing. Julius Caeser was born that way too, according to some unlikely legend :P) and didn't supply breast milk for eternity (FYI, Harry Potter wasn't breastfed till he was 8 and yet he turned out to be the best wizard in story book history :P)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the greatest example - moi! Wasn't breast fed either. And was probably picked up from the thrash can. And look how I turned out to be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep! Completely insane!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*snorts n cackles*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-620451600620824964?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/620451600620824964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=620451600620824964' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/620451600620824964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/620451600620824964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-milkshake.html' title='My milkshake'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-2149906117586062919</id><published>2011-05-31T10:38:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T10:38:00.507+07:00</updated><title type='text'>310511</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yay! can apply for senior citizen card. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Tn5BvM8CIAM/TeRilvSoMdI/AAAAAAAADaM/haJPDY2Axns/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-2149906117586062919?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/2149906117586062919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=2149906117586062919' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2149906117586062919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2149906117586062919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/310511.html' title='310511'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Tn5BvM8CIAM/TeRilvSoMdI/AAAAAAAADaM/haJPDY2Axns/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-2175636641346466950</id><published>2011-05-27T23:12:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-28T04:46:58.137+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>The missing piece</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/--ES0cu6qmdI/Td_NdFlljDI/AAAAAAAADaI/_Y6fVa8iGWw/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I carry her&lt;br /&gt;And she rests her little head on my shoulder&lt;br /&gt;It seems to me&lt;br /&gt;Every nook and corner&lt;br /&gt;Curve and bend&lt;br /&gt;Of her body and soul&lt;br /&gt;Befits my frame and heart&lt;br /&gt;Perfectly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She must be the missing puzzle&lt;br /&gt;Of my life&lt;br /&gt;That has been found&lt;br /&gt;To be loved and treasured&lt;br /&gt;Now&lt;br /&gt;And forever&lt;br /&gt;Undoubtedly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-2175636641346466950?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/2175636641346466950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=2175636641346466950' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2175636641346466950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2175636641346466950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/missing-piece_27.html' title='The missing piece'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh5.ggpht.com/--ES0cu6qmdI/Td_NdFlljDI/AAAAAAAADaI/_Y6fVa8iGWw/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-6491314268076771617</id><published>2011-05-25T15:31:00.007+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-27T23:19:12.960+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='merepek'/><title type='text'>Slacker moms</title><content type='html'>My bestie just passed me a book called Free Range Kids. Am absolutely loving it. It's soooo about us (me and a few selected friends). What are we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slacker moms. *cue applause from audience*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I'm such a slacker, I'm gonna shoot my thoughts on various topics in point forms. I won't even checks for spielling mistakes end gramma errors two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Breastfeeding&lt;br /&gt;Over rated! If you do breastfeed, that alone doesn't make you the best mom in planet Tatooine. If you don't, you are not the worst either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Educational toys.&lt;br /&gt;Conners! Hand, eye, butt co ordination shit! Babies from the Tarzan era have learned to walk, see, pee without these oh so colorful, they blind you -toys. I don't mind them really (just to shut the babies up, but even that doesn't work sometimes), but I won't go declare I LOVE FISHING PRIZE toys ..they are the best!!  Or go click 'Like' on their fb fan page.(I know my nemesis did :P) Suckers proclamations, that's what I call them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. International, private, government, home school&lt;br /&gt;Whatever, whichever! That's because I have very limited budget to join in the debate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Thematic birthday parties&lt;br /&gt;*roll eyes* Be glad to even have a sponge cake, kiddo! Enuff said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Bento sets&lt;br /&gt;Sissys! Food is to be eaten, not decorated! Here, take this 50 cents and go cut the queue and buy yourself a fat sausage, boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. milk with DHA, SSA, Omega, WWW, etc.&lt;br /&gt;Bullshit! They all come from udders! Don't go singing - My milkshake is better than yours~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. The importance of winning&lt;br /&gt;What? You bagged the 'Most Silent Participant' award, Gooly? Geesh! Seriously, it's ok NOT to win anything. It's better than these silly &lt;br /&gt;meaningless awards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having said that, do I deserve The Worst Mom award?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I care....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tips - if anyone tries to sell you any ideas or products which claims to be "the best for your child", you RUN - like Forest Gump.They are trying to psycho you into buying somethings which don't make your child another Einstein (durh!) and worst, make you feel bad, really bad as a mother. Or worster - you shouldn't even be a mom at the first place!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-6491314268076771617?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/6491314268076771617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=6491314268076771617' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6491314268076771617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6491314268076771617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/slacker-moms.html' title='Slacker moms'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-138612375066492764</id><published>2011-05-24T10:49:00.007+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-27T23:08:31.124+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>2.0</title><content type='html'>Yay! She's two (mths) old today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can sleep. Drink Neng Neng. Gooo. Gaaah. And weeeeek!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't she clever??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kidding..but she really astonishes me when she gives the right expressions or emits the right sounds where she deems appropriate. Like there was one night I was gossiping about her notti notti midnight activities, she suddenly gave a loud, really LOUD scolding weeeek, obviously admonishing me, tor being a tatter tale. "Dont you dare talk about me, momma!" I turned to look at her, sleeping in her cot, mouth slightly agape. Geeash! Gotta speak/type Swahili next time when I talk bad about her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when my inlaws came to visit her the first time, we bemoaned that they will probably not see her eyes wide open cos she was such a sleeping Buddha during that 'era'.  Lo and behold, the moment the entourage arrived at the doorstep, she opened her eyes, and probably would have thrown in a curtsy if she had known how to stand! Clever girl! *sweats* Very tension with impromptu ISO inspection from the inlaws, you know..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my favorite - she was making lots of sound, crying probably, with no tears, if I may add, as usual... In her cot. And everyone was busy with tv, food or whatnots. So she was left alone for awhile. Before you say, poor abandoned baby...... That awhile was probably a minute or so. Finally, being the sweet caring mother that I am, I hauled my ass up from my comfy bed and walked over to see if she needed coffee or martini this time. (just to spice up my life. Serving milk all the time is quite boringish)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I used my air hostess voice and said, "Coffeee, ma'am?" (seriously I can say anything cos uhm..durh....like she understands?) I smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And look,look,look,look! * shameless squealing mommy sound*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-BhvK0vS95rY/Tdsqu64EMWI/AAAAAAAADaA/szP_hpXzLAw/PhotoShake.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She actually gave me back a big watermelon smile! Look at the shape of the sliced watermelon mouth! For like...the longest time she did smile. (gooly's smiles are very  rainbowy - his eyes are shaped like rainbows when he smiles. Just for the record.) And indeed she was calling out for attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wondering if she can already recognize my pretty face (it's World's Shameless Day!). My friend doubts it. Says it's probable the smell. *sniff armpit* Yeah... I think so to. I solemnly promise not to put deodorant or eau de toilletteeeee, for you, Lolly (until her eyesight improves, that is).&lt;br /&gt;Big smelly sacrifice there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there! Quite an achievement for a 60 days kiddo, eh? Can't wait till she poops on the bed and drool on my shirts!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-138612375066492764?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/138612375066492764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=138612375066492764' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/138612375066492764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/138612375066492764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/20.html' title='2.0'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-BhvK0vS95rY/Tdsqu64EMWI/AAAAAAAADaA/szP_hpXzLAw/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7109970563290380210</id><published>2011-05-22T21:34:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-27T23:07:27.236+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='merepek'/><title type='text'>Smiley me</title><content type='html'>..not smelly okeh? Read carefully...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I admit I smile a lot, even to strangers and also to Gooly. When I was pregnant, I found many people smiling at me ("Awwww a hippo...") or was it me who was smiling first and they reciprocated? Never mind..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now with Lolly in my arms, the pattern continues ("Awwww a hippo with a baby..."). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, I was waiting for a table at a crowded kopitiam. A young chap, whom may I add, looked like Wang Lee Hom signaled that he was almost done with his meal. I SMILED and said thank you because my momma taught me manners. He smiled back revealing two gorgeous dimples. Omg! That certainly brighten up my otherwise mundane day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't just smile at guys, okeh. I get high too when I exchange smiles with chic pretty ladies. Yeahuh...they do smile, which makes them beautiful, I think. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With Gooly, we smile whenever our eyes meet. He could be taking a dump or across the road awaiting me. But when we first meet even after a 5 minutes separation, we smile at each other. (Hey mom, I'm shitting *smiles*)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't smile at old men. They give me the creeps. Sorry, I don't do old men. Period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I wanna know..are you smelly?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7109970563290380210?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7109970563290380210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7109970563290380210' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7109970563290380210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7109970563290380210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/smiley-me.html' title='Smiley me'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-3015709769605879769</id><published>2011-05-22T10:45:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T11:34:08.051+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>How gooly does his homework</title><content type='html'>I grew up with an aunt who stayed with us for a couple of years. It was the most crucial few years in which I hit puberty, a.k.a the period which forms the characteristics of what I am today. Not the whole package, but some influences here and there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was the sort who had a manual about how girls should be. Contohnya, girls should learn to cook, clean and bla bla bla. Seeing that I was a wild Jane who only cycled around the neighbourhoid after school, she decided to shape me up into a domestic lady. She would nag, order, ask or whatever you call it, to wake at 8 am, make the bed, wash the fan etc. Indeed, I was quite a Cinderella. I hated everything I had to do, but I did it because I was obedient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to today, I don't wake at 8, don't make the bed (unless kakak is not around) and definitely don't clean the fan (papah does it). I think her dictatorship has caused an adverse outcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is why I find that I'm being less forceful with gooly. Because I know forcing a child to do something whether out of convenience or expectations, the child will most likely compel and then rebel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the most common thing a mom has to ask her child to do - homework. I know certain moms allocate some slots for them. Yes, it's a good routine and discipline. But as the child grows, all he wanna do is to break free.if you think about it,there's a little selfish deed in that practise. That is because we have more activities these days - shopping, lunches, parties, shopping, parties and more shopping, we 'force' the child to finish his homework at a specific time and day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have much money to shop, and I hate the week end crowd. And i also believe the more we do, the less we achieve, especially in the aspect of spending a day at the mall. Therefore, we have two full days to complete school home works.  Gooly chooses when he does it, and how he wants to do it (finish all or half, to be continued at the next session). Of course there are times that we do go out or his cousins and friends are coming over, and I'd tell him in advance. He would then know how to finish everything before we head out. Or not. He gets to decide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's like this -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have homework? (Yes)&lt;br /&gt;A lot or just a little ? (Two excercises)&lt;br /&gt;I see..when do you want to do it? (Tomorrow)&lt;br /&gt;Ok, but we are going out for lunch and may come back late. Do you think you'll have time to finish them after that? (hmmmm...)&lt;br /&gt;Or you want to finish everything tonight? (I think can finish tomorrow. It's quite easy.)&lt;br /&gt;Ok..up to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he has never not finished his homework. And very often, he brings out his books on his own, with little reminder, at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That way, he learns about time management and responsibilities. I think kids need to believe that they have a choice and they need to be respected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And also, we both don't pop any veins, have high blood pressures or hate each other.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-3015709769605879769?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/3015709769605879769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=3015709769605879769' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/3015709769605879769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/3015709769605879769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-grew-up-with-aunt-who-stayed-with-us.html' title='How gooly does his homework'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-753421303295108230</id><published>2011-05-20T23:08:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T23:10:28.879+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jiwang'/><title type='text'>Kiss her for me</title><content type='html'>Muuuuuacks....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There, lolly. A kiss from papah..all the way from Bangkok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-753421303295108230?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/753421303295108230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=753421303295108230' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/753421303295108230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/753421303295108230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/kiss-her-for-me.html' title='Kiss her for me'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-3118054486720081583</id><published>2011-05-20T13:11:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T13:11:53.904+07:00</updated><title type='text'>pops of the pop</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/TdYGJ-9A1iI/AAAAAAAADZ8/AvXYqxz9R8A/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-3118054486720081583?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/3118054486720081583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=3118054486720081583' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/3118054486720081583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/3118054486720081583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/pops-of-pop.html' title='pops of the pop'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/TdYGJ-9A1iI/AAAAAAAADZ8/AvXYqxz9R8A/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-6238623954151041824</id><published>2011-05-18T21:01:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T21:20:53.311+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>Chatime</title><content type='html'>After picking gooly up from school, I made a turn to kayu, partly to eat, three quarter to drink Teh ice and another quarter to chit chat with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my usual rice with fried chicken - thigh, never breast meat. He asked to have a bite. And another. And another. I graciously gave him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When his roti telur, oozing with condense milk came, he returned the generosity. "I"ll just eat some, ok, gooly?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nonono, mom..you can have as much as you want."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Don't expect the same treatment for you, ok? This sweetness is reserved for me only.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The roti telur was sinfully tasty that I wondered aloud if I should order another. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's ok, mom. You can have more of mine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The roti telur was sweet. My son - even sweeter! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However this morning was a different story. He shouted, "Yee Yee, I want my breakfast! You cannot hear ah?" I don't know why he expects to be served like a king when he is with others. So blardy rude. But when with me, halos appear. But gooly....I have ears and eyes where you least expect...I'm watching you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*cue song - I always feel like somebody watching me~c&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-6238623954151041824?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/6238623954151041824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=6238623954151041824' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6238623954151041824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6238623954151041824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/chatime.html' title='Chatime'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-47143683794838061</id><published>2011-05-18T15:15:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T15:21:53.002+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='merepek'/><title type='text'>Where is papah?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ajxnF9vZX9Y/TdOBek3a8iI/AAAAAAAADZ0/K4x44g2Y02k/s1600/DSC_2834.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ajxnF9vZX9Y/TdOBek3a8iI/AAAAAAAADZ0/K4x44g2Y02k/s200/DSC_2834.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607968323298587170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Action la him....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-47143683794838061?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/47143683794838061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=47143683794838061' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/47143683794838061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/47143683794838061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/where-is-papah.html' title='Where is papah?'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ajxnF9vZX9Y/TdOBek3a8iI/AAAAAAAADZ0/K4x44g2Y02k/s72-c/DSC_2834.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7204619124714249152</id><published>2011-05-17T20:29:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T21:08:34.903+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='award'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>Under my umbrella Ella Ella..</title><content type='html'>My mom goes for a walk every morning. She is quite popular, really. Everyone who takes strolls like she does says hello when they cross path. She comes back with stories like Mrs. A is not in good terms with her daughter in law or Mr. B's son is a dentist in Brisbane and he gave him about rm50k as angpow moneh during last cny. Geesh! No wonder she likes going for walks. There are so much goss to hear! (I wonder what she tells them of me? Hmmm..)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways..this post is not to highlight an episode of 'Gossip Girls'. It is about how on a particular morning, she headed out for her usual stroll despite the gloomy clouds threatening to pour at any minute. She thought she could break her own record of snail walking with the aide of her tongkat. Much to her chagrin, droplets of rain did begin to fall and she probably had to walk pass another 50 houses before she reached ours. With her 'speed', it would take,maybe 10 minutes, and she would surely be drenched by then. I wonder if she muttered any profanities under her breath at this point of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then...poot poot. A lady honked and told her to hop into her car.  My ma declined.(still wanna be heroic). "You will fall sick!" the lady insisted. But my ma still didn't hop in. Maybe she secretly wanted to play in the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady gave up in persuading. And just then, another man came out from his house with an umbrella. "Take this! We are not as strong as the young ones! If we fall sick, jiau cham laa." This time my mom accepted the help offered. And she came back feeling very paiseh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought they were very nice encounters. These are affluent folks. It's good to know they have a heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then it was my turn...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I went to the pasar malam. Dropped my mom off while I looked for a place to park. She took the umbrella with her. And I decided to get off the car to help her carry the heavy fruits once I found a place to park. I alighted and felt rains on my head and shoulder. But only for a while because a moment later, I realized I was under the umbrella of an unknown lady. I was a little embarrassed and gave her a smile while inching away. She said, "it's ok. Come share the umbrella. I'm heading the same way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite being a rainy night, I felt warmth. In my heart. In my soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's sing Rihanna's 'Under my Umbrella' , shall we?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7204619124714249152?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7204619124714249152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7204619124714249152' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7204619124714249152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7204619124714249152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/under-my-umbrella-ella-ella.html' title='Under my umbrella Ella Ella..'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8121620450623922418</id><published>2011-05-16T22:41:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T07:03:11.803+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>Closed for private function</title><content type='html'>There are some nites when lolly and I have private parties. Just me and her. Exclusive okeh? (like anyone would wanna join in)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First she wakes and I'd already have her drink of martini on stand by at around 1a.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She stretches herself a bit cos she has been hibernating the whole day. She opens her eyes, blinks them as part of her exercise routine. And she smiles. (everybody - please awwwwww as sound effect)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She then is ready for her martini. She sucks from the bottle, and stares intensely at me, thinking " oh my mommy is so pwettty" (possible if compared to kakak).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She gets squirmish and I know she needs to be burped. I put her straight up, and she starts stepping on my tummy, lurching forward like a little Joey. And her mouth forms a big 'O', making her too cute. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while, I put her down again lest she over exerts herself. I talk gibberish to her. Mostly about Old Mcdonald who has a black sheep whose best friend is the itsy bitsy spider. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She then gets bored and demands to do her exercise again. And she uses all her might to stand on my tummy, using it as a trampoline to jump up and down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth be told, I super layan her because she sleeps like 23 hours a day. Ok, maybe she is more wakeful when it's kakak's shift. But 20 hours of sleep is still a lot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like mother, like daughter? Heh..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok tonights party is about to begin. Let me concoct the martinis with olives. And oh yeah...crank up the volume of 'Old McDonald version 2011'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8121620450623922418?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8121620450623922418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8121620450623922418' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8121620450623922418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8121620450623922418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/closed-for-private-function.html' title='Closed for private function'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-875510024213612890</id><published>2011-05-14T17:23:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T17:48:07.143+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>Lolly 1.5</title><content type='html'>It's strange but I always think that lolly is already at her 3rd month when in fact she is only 8 weeks old. Could be her strong neck and her hefty weight that give that impression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dimples are appearing on her knees and elbows. *chuckles* This can only mean one thing. She has put on some kilos - 1.8 to be exact. I have suddenly developed a fetish to bite her yummylicious cheeks and thighs. Butt too, but it's always covered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not bothered to shave her head. But there are concerns for the little patches of empty spaces here and there. Ah well, some of the most interesting people I know are bald (papah for one!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She angguuus with the sweetest softest voice * melts* and I beam as though she just recited a sonnet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She sleeps aplenty. I never knew babies could just inhale, exhale and drift off to lalaland. Well, gooly - the baby I ever knew before this was the most wakeful baby. I could pat him on his bum till the cows come home, and he'd still be awake, very often, crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeap, he was a definitely a more demanding nocturnal baby. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again, I was working with no helper, and was a first time inexperienced mom, so naturally all I wanted was for him to go to sleep so i could sleep. I'm lucky now, with kakak, I get a good 3, sometimes 4 hours of extra sleep in the morning. Not to mention, a bright, independent and understanding son who lets me get the rest I need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coupled with lolly's contented and calm disposition, I am enjoying motherhood to the max this time round. I smell her loads. Rub her skin, tickle her chin. Look at her fingers and toes. Bite her cheeks and feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh yeah...still lactating and pumping. Milk, anyone?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-875510024213612890?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/875510024213612890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=875510024213612890' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/875510024213612890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/875510024213612890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/lolly-15.html' title='Lolly 1.5'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-9119648468837525642</id><published>2011-05-14T16:12:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T16:31:25.542+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><title type='text'>Birthday pressies</title><content type='html'>For his last birthday, gooly received a pair of hand made binoculars from a very smart girl - T1.With help from her mama, she stuck two toilet rolls together and painted some awesome ben-ten details on it. It was one of gooly's (and my) favorite gifts. He took it to sleep that night and the next few days, hung it around his neck for his adventures in jungles and seas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, I made him call T1 to thank her again for her thoughtful and special gift (and the other guests as well). One has gotta learn to show appreciation the right way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, he received an invitation to a birthday party due in a few weeks' time. And he has been rather busy sketching, doodling, drawing for the birthday boy. He was clearly inspired by T1. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had carefully stapled the pieces of drawings together with messages on them (albeit with wrong spellings and all). I can't really make out what he had drawn cos uhm... our artistic genes are somewhat mutated. But I thought it was awfully sweet of him. I doubt his efforts will be much appreciated by the birthday boy - cos almost every boy prefers t.o.y.s, the bigger, the louder, the better? *shrugs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways.. Here's a big pat on gooly's (and T1''s) back for not being engulfed by commercialism.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-9119648468837525642?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/9119648468837525642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=9119648468837525642' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/9119648468837525642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/9119648468837525642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/birthday-pressies.html' title='Birthday pressies'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-5845407603676075241</id><published>2011-05-03T06:54:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T07:17:56.626+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='merepek'/><title type='text'>7am on a cold rainy a.m</title><content type='html'>Lolly knows what she wants or doesn't want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like when my mom shoves the pacifier into her mouth to shut her up, literally speaking, she'd bluek it out immediately. With a very haughty expression. If she had finer motor skill, she will probably show her the middle finger too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she cries murder when I sneakily give her 2 oz milk instead of 3 (why? Because she just had 3 two hours ago!!!). She would then suck 2 drops of milk and dozes off. 2 drops? That much of milk that made her scream like she was totally famished,  sending me (or anyone in the vicinity) in frantic to concoct her, may I repeat, 2 DROPS of milk???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, maybe not 2 drops...but 2 gulps?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oooh...I so wanna smack her diapered butt!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having said that, whenever her soft hair touches my hairless chin as she lays on my (hairless again) chest, and when our heartbeats drum in the same rhythm, I'd revert to the old sentiment of...awwwwww she's sho cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*shakes head and rolls eyes*. Cuckoo mama (just like you, you and you !) I shall now go back to sleep. Hopefully I wake up sane (a state I doubt I ever was or will be).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-5845407603676075241?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/5845407603676075241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=5845407603676075241' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/5845407603676075241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/5845407603676075241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/7am-on-cold-rainy-am.html' title='7am on a cold rainy a.m'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-725170819736151464</id><published>2011-05-03T05:17:00.010+07:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T06:06:30.001+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ape ape je'/><title type='text'>Al cheapo</title><content type='html'>My mom is the sort who will walk an extra mile because THAT particular stall offers choysum at a cheaper price...say like 5 sen cheaper?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she does prattle on for days about a good bargain. Like how she found this grocery store which stocks Nescafe 2-in-1, 20 cents cheaper than Carrefour. Oh the joy on her face when she talks about the cents she manages to save. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence, I know what being frugal is about. I have a mom who is the Frugal Queen. Not that I'm complaining. Like my 6years younger buddy says, "Being frugal is a commodity these days."(or something like that :P) Cmon..we know we don't share the same surnames as Mittal or Gates or ..heck, who else is in the Forbes? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, we had lunch - three very *ahem* wise ladies. We zig-zagged out of many topics, from tv shows, iPad games to something we never miss discussing -BAGS. All of us do love bags. But we have come to a point where we can JUST talk about them, admire them..and yet not buy them* You know, it's like walking into Pavillion, says, "Ooh, that's nice." and then walking out again, without feeling &lt;br /&gt;'"I might as well be dead if I don't get that bag?" Not that I have ever felt that way despite saying, "That is a bag to die for!" numerous times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked into Thomas Sabo and then out, exclaiming how those little trinkets are so-not-worth the price. Yay! I love window shopping! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We even said how we'd boycott Vincci shoes when there isn't a sale. *fol* Bet those who wear Louboutins cringe when they hear us talkinng.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I love how 20 years of friendships has made us completely comfortable with each other. Carats? Bah! We only talk about those being sold at the markets! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do know they have some buried blings - the real carats in Milo tins. But it's just not something we talk about or show (off). (Not that I have any to show).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*it's a different story altogether of course if the hubs offer to buy them..kakakaka!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-725170819736151464?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/725170819736151464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=725170819736151464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/725170819736151464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/725170819736151464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/05/al-cheapo.html' title='Al cheapo'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-5558638769391636799</id><published>2011-04-25T15:18:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-04-25T15:26:52.419+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='events'/><title type='text'>When the wolf howls..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gJObIb8er0Y/TbUv0N7aLzI/AAAAAAAADZQ/-qrHddbT1bo/s1600/4-25-2013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599434285843623730" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gJObIb8er0Y/TbUv0N7aLzI/AAAAAAAADZQ/-qrHddbT1bo/s400/4-25-2013.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Happy full moon, Lolly :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-5558638769391636799?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/5558638769391636799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=5558638769391636799' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/5558638769391636799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/5558638769391636799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/04/when-wolf-howls.html' title='When the wolf howls..'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gJObIb8er0Y/TbUv0N7aLzI/AAAAAAAADZQ/-qrHddbT1bo/s72-c/4-25-2013.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-3420769828904694122</id><published>2011-04-24T22:52:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T23:21:27.637+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><title type='text'>The pillow story</title><content type='html'>When I turn myself into a milk factory, I often have a pillow behind me for comfort. And I turn on the machine that sucks my boobs high and dry. Breastfeeding can be sucha lonesome journey.. Many nights I only have the sound of ggrrrr..grrrrrr..grrrr.... of the medela machine for company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I digressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok...so...there's always a pillow to support my spine - a little attempt to make bfeeding like a vacation by the pool. Y'know...the 'oh-I--am-so-relaxed' mood that I try to psych myself up. Or should I say psycho myself???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I digressed. Again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This afternoon, I shifted the furniture a bit in the room. The rattan chair and my faithful pillow are now next to the window. I have yet to buy a plug for the 'breast man-chine' so I resorted to sitting down on the floor, doing my 'thang' when gooly walked in and exclaimed, "So poor thing? No chair?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I could say it's a temporary arrangement, he walked to the window, took the pillow and propped it on the cupboard where I was precariously leaning against (with a finger up in my nostril too!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Here, mom. Is that better?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell you..this boy takes care of me. Yes, he does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't need a pillow to feel great comfort. My boy provides so much love..my body, mind and soul are relaxed! *gloats*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-3420769828904694122?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/3420769828904694122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=3420769828904694122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/3420769828904694122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/3420769828904694122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/04/pillow-story.html' title='The pillow story'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-3836429944740355939</id><published>2011-04-20T13:03:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-04-20T13:12:29.346+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>Awww</title><content type='html'>There were nights that gooly woke to drink some water and saw me feeding his lil sister, or burping her, or changing her, or carrying her or heard me asking myself , "Why did we decide to have a baby again?" while tearing my hair out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus, he knows I have had terrible nights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday before heading off to bed, he wrote me a note -"Mom, I hope you have a good night sleep."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aww..that's just gotta be the nicest thing to say and hope for a sleep deprived mom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of notes, he also wrote this other one the other day -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, can I do half my homewrok today and half tomoro becos I want to bengsan alredy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I relented of course cos 'bengsan' is really too cute a word to ignore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-3836429944740355939?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/3836429944740355939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=3836429944740355939' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/3836429944740355939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/3836429944740355939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/04/awww.html' title='Awww'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-4500958585225988316</id><published>2011-04-19T05:04:00.008+07:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T11:48:15.423+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>In the still of the night</title><content type='html'>At almost 4 weeks old, lil lolly is showing us quite a bit of herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like how she'd pucker up her lips when she does a poop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597145808770845170" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IzxyULe8KhA/Ta0OdUfaSfI/AAAAAAAADUM/wl1KvhZsiC0/s320/IMG_1662-1.JPG" /&gt; Or how her face goes red when she needs to burp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her neck is quite strong too. She can like lift her neck up when I carry her upright whilst burping her. Super powerful, I tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm awake now cos I just gave her milk. (but won't publish this cos I wanna post her poop face pic which hasnt been uploaded -the puckered lips one, not face full of s*it)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was wide -eyed a while ago. I looked at her and thought, "Eh, she looks like a mini Deng Xioa Peng!" lol! That's me talking and thinking at 4am. I dunno..she does resemble an old man with the little wispy hair she has. It's kinda bald at the top, and slightly bushy at the side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Imagine a koala, if you like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 281px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 288px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597146779032896850" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9JJ1L0cyKqs/Ta0PVy_6RVI/AAAAAAAADV0/dn14otoBqgc/s320/koala_baby_pic.jpg" /&gt; Still cute nonetheless!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597145816145577922" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PPBMSKs5rMQ/Ta0Odv9rx8I/AAAAAAAADUU/TPACaEFifgQ/s320/IMG_1680.JPG" /&gt; Anyways, I was looking at her looking at me just now...and she squirmed and stretched a bit. It was cute so I let out a chuckle. And what dya know... She gave me back a smile! It was a watermelon kinda smile like this ------ &amp;gt; :D Hah! It was probably a fluke smile but I loike it! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And then she gave a tired soft yawn and went back to sleep. Woot! Joo-bee-leeeee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok I admit, there were nights (3 thus far) that she drove me nuts - insisted to be carried to sleep. No..insisted that I walked around while carrying her with wet boobs functioning like dripping faucets! Gah! Totally forced me to cuss 'basket biscuit busted' repeatedly. When I put her down, she immediately pooped or vomited or wanted more milk, signalling each activity with tears. Basket or not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But ...just now..her watermelon smile...aiseh... Makes me go, ok I forgive you for all you late night illegal activities! * smirk and punch her shoulder lightly*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say... 6.30 am already? Time to punch out..kakak coming in a while. Yahoo! Maggie anyone?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-4500958585225988316?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/4500958585225988316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=4500958585225988316' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4500958585225988316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4500958585225988316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/04/in-still-of-night.html' title='In the still of the night'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IzxyULe8KhA/Ta0OdUfaSfI/AAAAAAAADUM/wl1KvhZsiC0/s72-c/IMG_1662-1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-5020187565979233458</id><published>2011-04-15T15:25:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-04-15T15:34:28.430+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>no!</title><content type='html'>The other day, a cute lil pumpkin came to my house. Gooly had a little time to show her the iPad before he was scooted off to school. He smiled when our eyes met a few times, indicating that he likes this girl as much as I do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that night, I asked, "Isn't T cute?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Your sister will be cute as well later, eh?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my utter disbelief, he said NO! My jaw dropped like 2 inches, and my irises dilated to the size of a ping pong ball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She will be even cuter!!" he continued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh...one big biased family we are, aren't we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps: T, you are still cute with your head shaking trademark, k? :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-5020187565979233458?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/5020187565979233458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=5020187565979233458' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/5020187565979233458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/5020187565979233458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/04/no.html' title='no!'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-1869648118999568309</id><published>2011-04-13T11:27:00.011+07:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T12:57:59.325+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='events'/><title type='text'>Diary of an intoxicated mom</title><content type='html'>On that day,  I got one power jab on my spine, and my mind went, "Holy ow ow ow ow ow~~~~This is no fun.. I dun wanna ..I dun wanna.. I dun wanna.." and I started to retch my guts out. Uweek...uweek...uweek..... They had to use a bowl to hold my vomit of nothingness (actually I don't know what came out) cos I had fasted for a few good hours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before that, the nurses kept asking if I was wearing dentures. I was getting offended like they were insinuating my boobs were fake too. I dunno how I made the connection. And they cross-checked my identity a few times. "Are you Miss Jenniper Lopes?" I so wanted to say NO just to create havoc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wheeled into the OT and all was swell again. I remember looking at those big alien spacecrafts lights above, and thought, "Oooh, preety..." and sang a tune of (in my mind-lah) "Close encounter of the Third Kind". I nodded at Dr. Doolittle, and his assistant, Dr. Grey - all looking clean and sterile with their scrubs and masks. (Sort jor!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the jab and &lt;em&gt;holy ow&lt;/em&gt; moment. And the not so graceful vomit episode. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In between, I was hoping that the doc could remove some fats too but that, much to my chagrin, didn't happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 239px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594938304848529154" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D9nCKY3jW4Y/TaU2vri5BwI/AAAAAAAADNw/CWIzoPZUN94/s320/IMG_0500.JPG" /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..and then she came along&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..sang beautifully in her loud soprano cries. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..Looking all pink and gorgeous. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little frowns were sighted at first - annoyed to be shifted from the cozy pouch of a mother's womb to a cold, unfamiliar place.. and then slowly, she turned those frowns upside down.. to perfect little smiles, which got all of us mesmerised. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 239px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594920525221979858" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4xUO02zu4wk/TaUmkxRl5tI/AAAAAAAADNo/1FN6Aoc7Rck/s320/IMG_0494.JPG" /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There..My little girl. Born at 18.10hrs, weighing 2.98 kg. Babies do come in bundles, eh? A bundle of joy, she is. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P/s: Ohh.. And the moment she was..erm.."dug out", the doc brought her close to me and asked, "Boy or girl?". Same thing happened during Gooly's birth. This time, due to my bat eye-sight (pun intended) and also a &lt;em&gt;non-batang-so-less-obvious &lt;/em&gt;sight before me, I wasn't sure.. I went, "Huh huh huh.. geez.. I dunno!" And the nurse said, "OK, will let you see again once we clean baby up." I was like, "Man... Don't tell me it's a boy. I have bought pink booties!" And the heart went duk-duk-duk like it was 2012. The second time they asked, I still was unsure..and went "Uhm..err.. why don't you tell me?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geesh! The hospital's policy is so weird and full of suspence! I thought they should just go, "Congrats, it's a boy! (or a girl!)" Makes things less...uhm.. err.. I dunno. Just stitch me up-lah, you quack!..and there better be two pretty bows at the ends of the looooong wound...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-1869648118999568309?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/1869648118999568309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=1869648118999568309' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/1869648118999568309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/1869648118999568309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/04/on-that-day.html' title='Diary of an intoxicated mom'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D9nCKY3jW4Y/TaU2vri5BwI/AAAAAAAADNw/CWIzoPZUN94/s72-c/IMG_0500.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7092205058540608351</id><published>2011-04-10T11:12:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T11:19:34.873+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jiwang'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Created with PhotoShake&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;amp;postID=7092205058540608351" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now work night shift, producing milk by ounces (wish I could say gallons!) and feeding lil lolly at ungodly hours. When kakak comes in the morning, she takes over. And I hit the sack, just like a hooker would on a tired morning. :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gooly had been exceptionally understanding. He lets me snooze, coming in to give me kisses and sometimes from his tone, I can tell he is praying hard that I'd wake to play with him. My boy misses me, I know. But hang in there, happier more wakeful moments await us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, he came in...I knew he whispered something and I groggily nodded and mumbled something -can't remember what. When I woke, I saw the items on the floor in the above pic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I remembered -"Mom, there is water in case you get thirsty." "Mom, I wrote you some messages on iPhone." "Mom, another pillow for you so you are comfortable."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sniff! My son rawks better than the confinement lady whom I don't have!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7092205058540608351?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7092205058540608351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7092205058540608351' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7092205058540608351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7092205058540608351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/04/created-with-photoshake.html' title=''/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-6242129711961674357</id><published>2011-04-04T15:30:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T15:32:14.858+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>On the 11th day..</title><content type='html'>..the stub from her goolypop, otherwise boringly known as navel, dropped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now she has an extra hole. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*weird mom*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-6242129711961674357?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/6242129711961674357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=6242129711961674357' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6242129711961674357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6242129711961674357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/04/on-11th-day.html' title='On the 11th day..'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7922072685290109712</id><published>2011-04-03T11:01:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T11:01:23.587+07:00</updated><title type='text'>lil lollypop</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;Created with PhotoShake&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/TZfxEU0SqhI/AAAAAAAADNc/CZ4Sz_SSubY/PhotoShake.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7922072685290109712?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7922072685290109712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7922072685290109712' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7922072685290109712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7922072685290109712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/04/lil-lollypop.html' title='lil lollypop'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh3.ggpht.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/TZfxEU0SqhI/AAAAAAAADNc/CZ4Sz_SSubY/s72-c/PhotoShake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-6710191633257744328</id><published>2011-04-02T17:31:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-04-02T17:45:28.988+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>The eighth night</title><content type='html'>She woke at 3 am till 4 - ish. I think that is the longest time that she was awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fed her, changed her diaper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wasn't crying, just looking around the room. So I let her be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She threw in a few smiles. And at times, looked like she was deep in thoughts.. "So, this is planet earth, eh?" and when her eyes caught mine, she gave me a look which said, "You are mom, I suppose?" and then she nonchalantly looked the other way to find more interesting things to stare at, like her own fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There we were - just the two of us, on a silent night. Our first soirée. I loike!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(but after a while I got tired, so I plonked her back on her crib. She continued her lonely vigil..and finally fell asleep on her own. Bliss!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-6710191633257744328?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/6710191633257744328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=6710191633257744328' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6710191633257744328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6710191633257744328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/04/eighth-night.html' title='The eighth night'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-2416479700407045919</id><published>2011-03-31T16:51:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T17:04:25.150+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>The seven days</title><content type='html'>Ooh..it's been a week. Sofa, so good I must say. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peach girl sleeps aplenty. So much that she didn't wake for her feeds. That's until today..when she finally does stir and cry a wee bit when hungry. To be honest, I was getting a bit worried. She looked high all the time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was different with gooly. He was a light sleeper..if you could even call him a sleeper! It was perhaps my first time being a mother, I was so afraid that he would wake and cry, and Then i wouldn't know how to pacify him. We were literally on our toes and talking in a secretive hush hush voice all the time. And when he woke for milk, I'd pray to good Lord that he falls right back to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, lil Missy is..I hate to say this..but she's just like me! A lazy bugger who snores and snorts (she hasn't, really..but it's just a matter of time, I'm sure). You could blare a horn next to her ( just saying, don't do it, you sicko!) and she would still be in lalaland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She sleeps so much that we get all excited when she does wake. " She's up! Let's play!". And she gives up sheepish smiles and we all melt with awwwww sound effects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is only the first week. Maybe she starts bawling tomorrow. Jeng jeng jeng....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-2416479700407045919?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/2416479700407045919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=2416479700407045919' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2416479700407045919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2416479700407045919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/03/seven-days.html' title='The seven days'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-4337971188834680334</id><published>2011-03-28T17:07:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T17:20:16.984+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>Little Lolly</title><content type='html'>Maybe it's the way you scrunch your nose while pouting a little...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or the way your lips curl up just a bit, giving us a shy smile..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it's how you gingerly place your head on my chest when I burp you..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And also how your litle fingers find their ways around mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could be how your yawns are soundless yet satisfying..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or how your dark irises stare out in space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever it is..we are sold. You are loved for life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-4337971188834680334?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/4337971188834680334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=4337971188834680334' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4337971188834680334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4337971188834680334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/03/little-lolly.html' title='Little Lolly'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-2775366885105259582</id><published>2011-03-26T22:42:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T23:02:47.233+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lolly'/><title type='text'>First thoughts</title><content type='html'>Hmmmm... You look  like a Dawn...perhaps a Zoey..not quite the name I have chosen for you. but oh well, your features will change, I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh my...you are so round..no.,,no...your face is kinda peach-like.  A little like siu long pau. Hmmm..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent a few hours looking...staring at you, kinda like looking at a gold fish in a fish bowl, marveling at every crease, every line, every fold on your face, chuckling at your every sudden startled jerky movement , smiling when you scrunched up your nose, pouted your lips or blinked the lights away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I thought you were simply beautiful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for fighting the fight with me. We just proved to the doc that he was wrong, didn't we? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We are gonna be okay," we said that on that day. And we shall be. ;)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps: a picture soon ok to those of you who didn't catch her leaked shots by paparazzi  in the latest Peoples Magazine :p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-2775366885105259582?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/2775366885105259582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=2775366885105259582' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2775366885105259582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/2775366885105259582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/03/first-thoughts.html' title='First thoughts'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7026495968869158553</id><published>2011-03-24T12:23:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-24T14:06:42.541+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='projek baru'/><title type='text'>The hours before</title><content type='html'>Dear Lolly,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what? I'll be seeing you in a coupla hours time! Yipppeee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So these are the final hours we'll be sharing the same blood, same food, same air. And after this, you can fly like the wind..............(They haven't even inject me with drugs yet!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, it's goodbye heartburn.. insomnia.. and sad-fully, little butterflies in my tummy..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We pray for your good health. Can't wait to see you, cuddle you and anggu guchi you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, and be loved, k?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mummy, 3.00pm. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P/s: PLEASE dont be a cry baby! :D And if it's alright, sleep thru the night..suckle properly and err.. that's it! Not too much to ask for, right? Teehee..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7026495968869158553?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7026495968869158553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7026495968869158553' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7026495968869158553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7026495968869158553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/03/hours-before.html' title='The hours before'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8650321796112723247</id><published>2011-03-21T16:04:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T16:10:18.523+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='projek baru'/><title type='text'>Holding hands</title><content type='html'>As I was driving just now, I felt a strong push at my abdomen, startling me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instinctively my right hand went down to feel it. Judging from where her head is now..that tiny bulge on the right side sure felt like it was her tiny fist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; *chuckles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there I was holding her tiny hand, though thru a barricade of some sort.. And I was grinning like mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It could be her foot or whatever body parts, but I'd like to think we held hands for a moment then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know..silly mahmee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sheepish*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8650321796112723247?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8650321796112723247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8650321796112723247' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8650321796112723247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8650321796112723247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/03/holding-hands.html' title='Holding hands'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-7990012634706142857</id><published>2011-03-18T22:16:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-18T22:40:15.540+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><title type='text'>Gooly draws</title><content type='html'>Gooly loves to draw. He leaves sketches of drawings for me everywhere. The moment I announce I'm feeling quesy or unwell, he gets down to work - drawing me a get-well-soon card. Or when I'm away for a coupla hours, there will a a drawing of some sort waiting at home for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth be told, his pieces do not stand a chance to be hung at the Lourve. *chuckles* He still draws stickman figurines, ok? At the most, he has their eyes crossed out to depict a dead-man face. And fluffy clouds often can be mistaken as piles of dung floating on air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But a smile always creeps in the moment I look at his drawing. And I always can't wait for him to tell me the story behind it. Oooh...yes..there's always a tale to accompany the illustration. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today he drew me a picture of a man standing next to a puddle of water. In the water, a man with crossed out eyes, pressumably dead and above the water, a rickety bridge (which looks like a foot-long sausage).  The caption read: Next time don't fall into the water again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"One day two men were walking..and one man walked into the water and he drowned. The other man said, "Next time don't fall into the water again." I spelled all the words myself, mom. I just try sounding them out. And that was how the bridge was invented..so no man will fall into water again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He ended the story with a smile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He may not be an artist..but he sure can make up stories. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I think he has gotten the hang of spelling words. Seems to be getting them right most of the time now. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-7990012634706142857?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/7990012634706142857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=7990012634706142857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7990012634706142857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/7990012634706142857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/03/gooly-draws.html' title='Gooly draws'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-8928119189283190266</id><published>2011-03-17T19:39:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T20:10:06.124+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='projek baru'/><title type='text'>14 more days?</title><content type='html'>What d'ya know.. It's almost the beginning of the end of the school holidays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had deliberately not planned anything too hectic for Gooly. Kinda taking it as the last me &amp; him time before Lolly pops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't do much but at the same time, seem like had done a lot. We talked...we drew...played and laughed. Many afternoons were spent doodling for Lolly. If I could, I'd like to sew, knit, crochet, build a cot for her cos I'm sentimental like that..but alas, can't lift a needle or hammer without being admitted to the emergency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't draw either. So I doodled. Irregular patterns and non-sensical themes.Gooly did something similar. Looks like thrashy kitschy art pieces await the lil bub. Forgive us for the lack of talent, but hey..you were in our thoughts, miss Lolly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm taking the last weeks of my last pregnancy (I swear!) pretty cooly. Taking time to remember and to marvel.. to stare at the washing machine movements, to feel the awe..to prepare myself for the next journey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tsunami hit the shores of Acheh six years ago when Gooly was born at 36 weeks. Last week, as Lolly was 36weeks old in utero, the wrath of tsunami struck again. Deja vue at its creepiest and saddest sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's 37th week as of now. Take your time, Lolly. No rush..momma will keep you safe till you deem ready for the world. The heartburns are a bitch..otherwise, momma's doing pretty ok. Darn those sleepless nights too...and Braxton Hicks shits...but momma is fine.......!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See ya this Saturday on screen! Korkor drew on us - on my tummy, that is. And the ink is not exactly coming off. How embarrassing for prof to see my tattoo-ed bulge, eh..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-8928119189283190266?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/8928119189283190266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=8928119189283190266' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8928119189283190266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/8928119189283190266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/03/14-more-days.html' title='14 more days?'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-4636171072421077361</id><published>2011-03-16T16:37:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T16:50:21.006+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='killing braincells'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><title type='text'>God and machine</title><content type='html'>Gooly: Mom, who made God?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: *blink blink*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gooly : I mean like God made everything but who made Him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: *blink blink* God made himself? God existed before anything else. It's quite a mystery, I must say...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gooly: But there is (was) no God, right when dinosaurs were alive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: *blink blink* Hmmm... He must have (existed)... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gooly: Maybe God is a machine...or he has a machine that created Him. *makes some chunking clanking machine sounds*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..and he continued drawing, with the tip of his tongue protruding. Don't think he was expecting an answer from me, really.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-4636171072421077361?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/4636171072421077361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=4636171072421077361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4636171072421077361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4636171072421077361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/03/god-and-machine.html' title='God and machine'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-269424206190046085</id><published>2011-03-16T11:58:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T12:18:22.045+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='projek baru'/><title type='text'>Someone somewhere is having a bb too</title><content type='html'>We have this friendly delivery man who comes by every month to deliver stuff that papah ordered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the months, we have exchanged little conversations. Sometimes I see him around PJ areas, and I give a honk. He looks up and smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today he asked when I'm due. I said,"Bila bila!" He looked shocked cos apparently I look like I had only hit my fourth month pregnancy. Well, he was comparing my stomach to his wife's, whom he said, is at the hospital now, waiting to pop. He looked really anxious but happy, nonetheless. He continued that he had to finish his delivery quick so he could go to the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smiled and wished him good luck. And he returned with a gracious terima kasih. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as he was leaving, I asked if it's gonna be a girl? He nodded." Oh, just like mine!" I offered, not caring if he really wanted to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow, preggers always find comfort or pleasures in similarities like, same baby sex, same due date, same due month, same hospital, same whatever... Or is it just me? Teehee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-269424206190046085?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/269424206190046085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=269424206190046085' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/269424206190046085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/269424206190046085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/03/someone-somewhere-is-having-bb-too.html' title='Someone somewhere is having a bb too'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-4845411192132258329</id><published>2011-03-16T11:04:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T01:13:37.293+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>Gooly - the gentleman</title><content type='html'>We go to the passer malam quite a fair bit these days. Abhu grabs the heaviest items she can find, like oranges and guavas, and occasionally some kilos of fish balls to feed the whole village. Because I, myself have a gunny sack of rice in my tummy, I can't possibly help her with the loads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence, the way to go would be asking her to wait at the side of the road while I drive my pink Ferrari over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gooly was with me the other night. As we sauntered back to my pink ferrari, he thought aloud that he ought to have carried some stuff to ease nainai's burden. I was already thinking of sinking my teeth into the muachee I just bought, so I wasn't really paying attention.. I probably gave him a nod or something equally non-communicative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove my pink Ferrari over, put on the signal, and signaled abhu to clamber on-  my mind still on 'muachee muachee muachee' mode. Then I heard the door opened. I swung my head behind just to make sure it was abhu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my surprise, Gooly has gone down to help carry the goods. "Nainai, wo pang ni!" and he heaved the heaviest bundle into the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh.. It sure is handy to have a fine young man living with us. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh... I noticed that he has been pulling chairs out for me during chomp times. And holding the doors open with a cheery, "You go first, mom!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like my son is growing up to be a gentleman... Ohhh..just like Jack. Jack in Titanic. Not Jack Neo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: Saying that I drive a pink Ferrari three times made me giddy with happiness. Not that I have any. Cheap thrill!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-4845411192132258329?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/4845411192132258329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=4845411192132258329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4845411192132258329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/4845411192132258329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/03/gooly-gentleman.html' title='Gooly - the gentleman'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-6195785568949925810</id><published>2011-03-13T23:59:00.006+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T11:45:56.873+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>Stupid insomnia</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was one of those damned days. I just couldn't fall asleep...till about 6am, I think....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I was on the couch outside. I felt a tug, opened my eyes a little, and saw Gooly inches away from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you ok, mom? Couldn't sleep again?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mumbled a yes..and told him to go back to sleep, as I assumed he was just awaken for his morning pee. He obliged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I slept the whole morning,while he got busy with nainai and his cousin. A few times he came in to check if I'm done with hibernation, only to be disappointed that his mom is indeed a polar bear in winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one occasion he told me that he had better close the door as nainai was on a mission to exterminate some colonies of ants, right outside my room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd appreciate that, I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And another time he wished we could go Ikano later..when I'm not so tired..when I'm awake. Sure, I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he patiently waited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I mustered enough energy, we did go Ikano. Bought him his favorite kikkok snack, and his eyes glistened, his smiles widen, and he hopped like a bunny rabbit as though I just bought him a new ipad2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we came home, I spent an hour drawing, doodling - whatever with him while talking about what I had missed during the day time while I snoozed. His eyelids were getting really heavy. Just before his head hit the pillow, he managed a "Mom, you are the best mom I ever had." Yes, it sounded all wrong and weird, but I bet that came straight from his heart and pierced right through mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583772592564143122" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y8cvVv6SZlc/TX2Llr5ZBBI/AAAAAAAADNM/CpdORC5zdt0/s320/untitledb.bmp" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds of little snores were heard as I kissed him goodnight. I shall continue my solitude thru the nite, just like many nights before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He must have waited for his momma for so long, practically the whole day, which must have seem like eternity -to a kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for being the most understanding person in the world, son. When I get rid of this insomnia, we'll go hunting for (teddy)bears for kicks, ok?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love ya.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-6195785568949925810?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/6195785568949925810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=6195785568949925810' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6195785568949925810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/6195785568949925810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/03/stupid-insomnia.html' title='Stupid insomnia'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y8cvVv6SZlc/TX2Llr5ZBBI/AAAAAAAADNM/CpdORC5zdt0/s72-c/untitledb.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147421186645956237.post-3372718941995300106</id><published>2011-03-13T11:24:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-13T11:51:39.854+07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gooly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><title type='text'>Not so big</title><content type='html'>The other day I met up with a good friend who came back from Australia for a short visit. Was caught in the traffic on the way home- didn't make it to greet gooly at the gate, as I usually do (he takes the van now till after my confinement, I guess). He called me once he reached home, of course and I explained my predicament. Told him to have his dinner, and I'd be back in a jiffy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon entering the house, I realized that the hot shower has been turned on. He was dancing in the 'rain', stomping on the little puddles he had made. He is not tall enough (yet) to turn on the heater and the shower on/off button.and that's when I saw the green ikea stool next to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh.. He has climbed on it to do stuff himself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh.. The ability to think of a solution before shouting out for help or the notion of NOT just waiting out till mom gets home to do it, makes me feel proud of his independence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What am I talking? Going to school for a whole six hours and taking rides home alone are epitomes of independence! But still, little changes in his everyday routine makes me think how grown up he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I shouted a boo that scared the bollocks out of him, making him squeal...ah just like a little boy. Transformation of  big boy to a little one with a shriek. I like that. At least I know the baby in him still exists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, where did you go? I miss you.... I ate my dinner and was waiting for you. So I took a shower. See the stool? I wasn't tall enough...!" he prattled on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh.. The little boy who still divulges his day to day thoughts and feelings. To me. His mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like that too.A lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1147421186645956237-3372718941995300106?l=goolypop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/feeds/3372718941995300106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1147421186645956237&amp;postID=3372718941995300106' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/3372718941995300106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1147421186645956237/posts/default/3372718941995300106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goolypop.blogspot.com/2011/03/not-so-big.html' title='Not so big'/><author><name>goolypop</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07724941869992552754</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KBJ2CUol2Jg/R9s5NNV_5nI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8F2ysH5j5bE/S220/S6300514.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
