Gabe Migrates

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Reservoir Outing

It was too beautiful a day to waste so we took the kids out to Lower Pierce Reservoir.

Found a site to camp ourselves, and Rou is happily gnawing on her pram's strap.

Tranquility.

Strolling along and enjoying the scene, and kept requesting to go fishing, until...

The mother decided that fishing indeed we will go. Then he panicked, for the idea of getting into the water was too much to bear.

Papa with Mei in the pavilion while Mummy and Gabe at the water's edge.

Sat like a king on his throne and watching, and nagging about fishing, as he watched a small company going about catching little fishes and snails.

What's so interesting about this picture? Gabe 大杀风景, adding nutrients to the environment.

Drag his feet into the shallow end, and we have a traumatized boy.

Pondering the simplicities and complexities of nature.

"Oh gorgor, you are back!"

We met Beng Gong for lunch, and he suggested taking us to Upper Pierce. So we made two new ventures today.

Rou, not walking yet, plonked on a stone table so we our tired arms can take a break.

A nice smile please?

And Gabe did it again. Image altered to protect the privacy of the said individual.

And another attempt at a family picture :)

Christmas at Cell

Our cell group consists of four families -- one matured couple and their two children, and three young (both parents *wink* and kiddos) families. Here, the kids outnumber the adults, thanks to the addition of two lovely little ones this year. All 19 of us gather at firstjohn's every Friday and we feed the entire brood, sing, share and learn. This Christmas, after the usual dinner, we whipped out the camera and saved a few memories for years to come.

Emma and Zheng, the two youngest members, were born just days apart. These two heavy-weights (one by sheer breastmilk-power and the other good genes *ha!-I'm-so-getting-killed*) quietly rest side by side in their seats, amid all the chaos of running children and noisy adults.

The older girls are really our supernannies!

The four older, younger kids... if you know what I mean.

Firstjohn's big brood -- we're all really the result of her patience and mothering.

All the kids (minus Zheng who went off to zzz). We took quite a few shots but there was not one single picture without a blooper. Isn't it fun?!

Gastronomical Accidents

Halfway through the movie Julie and Julia, I was drooling away at the Boeuf Bourguignon Amy Adams was preparing.. I could almost smell the aroma coming out of her oven and honestly, I was dying to taste it there and then. So as derod and I stepped out of the movie theater, I told him I wanted to try out that recipe. Derod volunteered to get Julia Child's recipe book, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, for me as a present. But I held him off, saying that we'll see if her claims -- recipes for servantless housewives -- are true before investing in it.

I downloaded the recipe, roped in livingjoyfully for the big project and made plans for the day. We dropped the kids off at my parents', shopped for ingredients at a supermarket and a butcher and busied ourselves in my kitchen for a good FOUR hours of preparation and cooking.

And so we began...

...by showing off the most expensive ingredients from the butcher.

We worked hard, at trying to ensure we were following the instructions correctly.

The sauteed bacon and beef chunks.

We were doing pretty well until we realised that the proportion of red wine and the beef stock didn't seem to look very right. Anyhow, we improvised (?!) and chucked the casserole into my oven. At this point, I have to say that my confidence in my oven has been seriously shaken. The last few trays I popped in there turned out pretty queer, and it was with fingers (and toes) crossed that we popped this casserole in there. As expected, it turned out a bit burnt, and not exactly as described in the recipe. Well...

We served it, along with plain boiled potatoes, and seated our husbands at the table. My personal verdict (and I believe I speak for livingjoyfully too): it was... alright... not fantastic at all, and I'll never attempt it again. The amount of time we spent at it, added to the cost of the ingredients and my casserole cover which I had to replace after its stint in the oven, and most importantly, how the dish turned out, it was not worth going at it again. Derod thought the more he ate, the better it tasted. But the verdict of the night came from KK, who concluded that the best part of the meal was ... *drum roll*... the plain boiled potatoes.

Well needless to say, I won't be investing in the recipe book.

Now to redeem my reputation, if there is any at all, is this accidental (now on the positive side) dish I threw together one day. In my household, everyone has to contend themselves with one-dished meals for lunch and most dinners. The only condition to these is that they have to contain carbohydrates, protein, fibre and if possible, additional ingredients.

I was at a loss of what to cook the other day, and decided to put together whatever was left in the fridge. I'd say it turned out looking rather pretty, and tasted quite good too. Gabe enjoyed the meal; polished up his bowl at great speed.

Stirfry garlic, carrots, asparagus, minced pork (I added fishballs on subsequent attempts). Toss in the ready pasta shells and omelette , season with salt, pepper and some herbs. Serve with grated parmesan and for the adults, some tabasco sauce. Throw in some real bacon bits if you have them available. Yums!

Gabe: Two Half to Three

Gabe is now two half and about to turn three in a couple of months. Staying home with him, there are so many moments that are sometimes precious, but most times routine. Yet it is the routine, mundane and often carried out in drudgery, that I miss most when I look back in review of the journey.

Gabe was a great baby to take care of, and from a very young age, was able to respond to and obey instructions. He was compliant, obedient, able to sit in the pram for extended periods, not fussy, ate almost anything, active enough for a boy yet quiet enough in comparison to his hyperactive male counterparts. Gabe at two half to three is no longer that baby Gabe. He challenges all boundaries, pushing the parents to the limits of their patience and tempers, not to mention their capabilities on the decibel scale. (But I have to admit, in the same breath, he makes me laugh out loud with the things he says, all in the innocence of a little boy exploring the world.)

But humans are queer creatures. When I browsed through the photos taken in the last six months, the mother in me just feels that my little boy is all grown up and I actually miss that getting-harder-to-manage Gabe. And it just reminds me that staying home with him, watching him grow and just being able to spend that quantity time with him is a tough but satisfying decision.

Here are some snippets of what Gabe was up to in the last six months.

"Cooked" a meal for his furry buds. All dining and furry arrangements done by Gabe.

Fooling around with Mummy.

The indispensable barrier.

The usual night-walks. Gabe goes the distance with us on foot, while Rou gets a ride on her Combi. When Gabe reaches breaking point, he'll take a break on the pram and Rou will transfer into Papa's arms. When he was a little younger and tired easily, we would give him landmarks to work towards e.g. the bus stop ahead, or the traffic light, before he gets to go into the pram.

Stacking his cup and plate after his meal.

Enjoying Dutch Vla, courtesy of yee yee and the Smits.

BFF

Arranging the books after "reading" them. He gets horrifically upset when the sister comes and disrupts his arrangements.

Greatly tickled by Golden in his underwear.

Enjoying a drink with his furry friends.

He's been weaned off his finger sucking, but when he realises I'm not around, will still sneak them into his mouth. These are "fresh" out of the mouth after he drifted into deep sleep.

Not content to use only his hands, the boy has added the "kick drum" into the fanatic routine. Every night, he'll kick to the beat of the bedtime songs we sing.

We used to let Gabe take his last milk drink on our day bed but he spilled so many times (and I have to wash the milk stained covers and agonize over the stained cushion underneath), that I decided to let him drink it in the kitchen. Discovered a seat he could use, and he's been doing this ever since.

Loving durian.

Run out of slippers? Just slip into mummy's brand new ballet flats!

Driver's Mumbo Jumbo

Gabe sat on his Ferrarri toy car, and mumbled something about forgetting the cashcard, pretended to take out a wallet, and said "Ok, I can go past now."

Lizard Scare

It was a quiet evening. Dinner was ready and derod was on his way home. The kids were entertaining themselves in the living room. The washing machine chimed; the children's clothes are done. I transferred them into a pail, ready to hang them on the rack outside. I thought I saw something slim and long lying at the bottom on the machine's drum, decided it couldn't be what I thought it was, and continued getting all the clothes out, including the unidentified object.

I wrapped my fingers around it and all at once, these thoughts shot through me: realization of what it was, confirming my initial suspicions; disgust (accompanied by goosebumps on my neck), that I actually laid my hands on its raw texture; horror and disbelief, that I'm actually holding it with my bare hands; fear, I can't explain this, but just fear.

I gave a scream worthy of a ride down Universal Studio Singapore's Battlestar Galactica (Cylon side), flung the object back into the machine and made a dash for the kitchen door. The drama came to an abrupt end when I saw my two children looking up at me in quiet composure. For a split second, I was both embarrassed and at a loss for words in explanation. It was the ultimate anti-climax. Then Gabe began his series of questions. What happened? Why did you scream? What's in the kitchen?

I was ambushed (for the umpteenth time, though the encounters differ) by our domestic reptilian co-habitant. What on earth was a lizard doing in my washing machine, and among my children's laundry?!

When derod got home, I told him this was one of those jobs around the house that men are responsible for, and waited for him in the living room. He wrapped his hand in a plastic bag and proceeded to get rid of the already-drowned lizard. Then he swaggered into the living room and began jeering at me. It was a fake; a rubber replica of my household nemesis! I could have died!

Then I recalled Gabe's grandaunt playing with him just a few days ago at his great-grandfather's place and told him to take the rubber thing home to play. She must have stuffed it into his pocket without any of us knowing and that was how it got into the laundry. Urgh!! I shook with disbelief and the realization of the truth. To think I almost went into cardiac arrest for the sake of a piece of rubber! The rest of the family shook for a different reason - holding their sides and stifling their laughter.