Hit Me Baby One More Time!

Gabe's interest in and proficiency at the drums has increased by leaps and bounds. While I have to creatively divert his attention from going at it all day, he on the other hand finds creative outlets to release that passion and energy.

Dai seefu (big teacher) has a drum set and it's parked at but a stone's throw from our place. An invitation came to Gabe one day, for him to have some fun there.

Seen here, the little drummer boy and his rendition of Desert Song. Video courtesy of the dai seefu and his brother B. Gabe was 2.75 years old. You can see him receiving cues from his seefu; how anal he is when he has to stop and adjust things out of position; intensifying his "crashing" as the music crescendos. Oh, he left the place with a blister on each index finger, the result of the hour-long bashing on the drums. Looks like our friend has experienced what it means to be a committed musician!

UNglam

Gabe was scheduled to spend the day at his grandma's and I was rushing to get him out of the house in the morning. I figured that since he'll be getting into the car from our car park, and going straight up to the other house, I can save the effort of changing him out of his training pants and into something nicer. No doubt the training pants do look very much like underwear. Ok, they are very much equivalent to underwear. But he'll be changed into similar comfortable wear when he gets to his grandma's anyway. So I made up my mind and got him to put on his sandals.

He was about to get out of the house when he stopped at the threshold and asked, "Mummy, can I go out like that?"

Taken aback, the mother stuttered and stammered and finally gave him the verdict, "Of course!"

Oh... what lesson on modesty am I giving my son?

New Excuse in the House

Gabe's been throwing some tantrums at nap and sleep times. I figured it must be one of those effects of coping with a baby sister in need of greater attention.

One afternoon, Gabe cried at naptime, screaming to be carried. I thought something may be amiss like fears arising out of bad dreams. So here goes an edited version of the conversation that followed.

Cheoklet: Are you afraid of something?
Gabe: I'm afraid of sleeping. *WAIL*
Cheoklet: *threw forth various failed threats in attempt to stop the wails* Did you see anything?
Gabe: Yes!!! *WAIL* Mummy, I'm afraid of sleeping. I see something.
Cheoklet: What do you see?
Gabe: *in between sobs* I see lizard crawling on the wall!

Urgh. Try harder next time, son.

Day Out with Gabe Boy

I don't know what went through my mind when I agreed to let Gabe take up the role of Page Boy at sunshineinmysoul's wedding. He was going to be only two plus years old. The date was drawing near and the boy needed a haircut in preparation for the big day. As you all know, I've been the person behind his haircuts and of late, I seem to be doing more damage than creative cuts. Check out this last monstrosity.

So we decided to make a good looking chap out of him and while we're at it, might as well try out those with televisions screening his favourite shows and see how effective they really are. Derod and I decided to make it a day out with Gabe and left Rou with my mother, a first since Rou's arrival. We went to one of the branches of Junior League, sat him down in front of the one-eyed monster and witnessed the wonders of this concept. Whoever thought it out has to be a genius, though I do question the long term ramifications of the relationship between television and today's young.

The long and short of it is, nothing happened. Gabe sat there, flinching occasionally, but was quiet. It didn't matter whether it was the scissors or a shaver being waved at him. There was no crying, no protesting, no bargaining, nothing. The only thing that came out of his mouth was a request to watch Barney instead of Thomas, halfway through the cut. The hairdressers were real professionals! They look a little "auntie" but their skills were impressive; they were fast, accurate and were experts at flicking hair away from the kids' faces. Derod and I were so caught up in wonder that we basically looked like two idiotic parents snapping pictures and taking videos. We walked away with a boy with a spunky do, complete with stand-up hair held together by gel.

"There she goes..."

"There she goes again..."

"Racing through my brain..."

"And I just can't contain this feeling that remains..."

Thereafter, we had lunch at a Japanese restaurant and then derod had to go back to work, on a Saturday. So Gabe and I made our way back to my parents' to pick Rou up. We walked down Orchard Road, all the way from Isetan Scotts to Somerset MRT, took the train to Dhoby Ghaut, crossed to the connecting line and to our stop, and walked back to my parents' home. Here are our adventures en route:

We walked all the way and Gabe was very well behaved. He walked throughout with me. When we reached the traffic light at Takashimaya, he started to shiver and tugged at my hand, refusing to go on. He was crouching awkwardly, grunting weirdly, refused to move a step. I was quite taken aback and a pang of guilt shot through me as I wondered if I had made him walk too far in the sun. Then the realization of what really happened hit me.

The boy was pooping right in the middle of Orchard Road!

He's been toilet trained right, which means his poop was now sitting nicely in his underwear. I was astounded. I grabbed him off the streets and headed towards Taka, all the while hoping his poop won't drop out of his pants. That will really test my reaction to the max. Well, it didn't drop out, not even as I lugged him to the kids toilet on level 5. The lift was crowded and the smell was so obviously diffusing in that small space. I pretended not to notice.

We went to the toilet, dunked the clump into the toilet, thanked God it managed to go down at the flush (poops in confined spaces clump into big lumps), wore the same underwear back on the boy and went on our way. All this while, I was nagging at Gabe, telling him how upset I was that he didn't tell me he wanted to poop, that he did it in his underwear, etc etc etc. He must have felt how cross I was and when I stopped to look at something, took the opportunity to say, "Sorry Mummy," *hugs me*, "I'm upset with you. I mmmm mmm in my underwear."

That misuse of noun got me stifling a little giggle, and the apology too. Then there's the absurdity of your son pooping in the middle of the streets of Orchard. I was actually quite amused but in the true spirit of a mother chiding her son for not telling her he wants to poop, I had to, as they say, give it to him.

The rest of our journey was uneventful. Then again, no event could outdo that poop-deed that day. So here ends our day out with Gabe boy, complete with a spanking new do and poop-stained underwear and butt.

Quips at 30+ months

He asks nicely, "Can you please... with me?"

"What are you cooking for me today?"

Innocently and voluntarily reports his mistakes to me, "Mummy, I didn't do...."

Runs out from the bath declaring, "Papa, I'm not smelly anymore!"

Favourite Doctor

Gabe HATES to visit the doctor. It must be a blessing then that he didn't fall sick at all in his first year and not very much so in his second year, so the parents didn't need to be traumatized by visits to the doc. (And we haven't even gone to the taking-medicine part.) Well, it's perhaps also because of the lack of "exposure" to these professionals that created this phobia in him. Anyhow, a typical scene of Gabe at Doc's goes like this:

- Mother will psycho him from home to clinic, till his name is called, telling him what the doctor will do (check his ears, listen to his heart and lungs, etc), procedures will not be painful, doctor is a nice man.

- Gabe verbally vomits all the information you fed him, back at you, throughout.

- Nurse calls his name. He panics and starts saying he doesn't want to go in.

_ Carries the crying boy in. Looks at doctor, cries. Doctor touches him, wails. In fact, he wails so loudly, the doctor gets a bit hesitant about touching him.

This happens for quite a few doctors that we have tried. Then Jemmy's mummy tells me about a pediatrician located a stone's throw from our home and we gave it a shot there. Proximity's important for a family with two kids and schedules, and pediatricians do tend to give medicines that taste better.

Dr V Tan gave us a very good impression. She was thorough, consultative, very quick and accurate in checking the kids and most importantly, firm yet gentle with Gabe. It helped that the clinic and her office were equipped with all things necessary to distract the kids, from bouncy things hanging from the ceiling to rattly things on her table and the "killing move" for Gabe, the little tub of xiao man tou that sits on the far end of the table. She would tell him what she was about to do, do it real fast before he can fully comprehend what was going on, and if he was about to cry, say "don't cry" to him firmly. That last instruction sometimes gets him stunned for a bit and by the time he recovers, it was all over.

And by the end of that visit, Gabe would ASK to come back again. For the xiao man tou!! And at subsequent visits, his crying totally stopped! The down sides: her rates are really high, and the waiting time estimates at 1.5hours.

Well, in any case, a big thanks to Dr. V for helping Gabe to overcome his fear of doctors!

Bye Bye Pampers!

Round about August 2008, when I was in my second trimester of pregnancy with #2, derod and I set aside three days to pee-train Gabe. There is a certain philosophy that a child can be potty trained in three days, provided the following signs are exhibited:

Physical signs

Is coordinated enough to walk, and even run, steadily.

Urinates a fair amount at one time.

Has regular, well-formed bowel movements at relatively predictable times.

Has "dry" periods of at least three or four hours, which shows that his bladder muscles are developed enough to hold urine.

Behavioral signs

Can sit down quietly in one position for two to five minutes.

Can pull his pants up and down.

Dislikes the feeling of wearing a wet or dirty diaper.

Shows interest in others' bathroom habits (wants to watch you go to the bathroom or wear underwear).

Gives a physical or verbal sign when he's having a bowel movement such as grunting, squatting, or telling you.

Demonstrates a desire for independence.

Takes pride in his accomplishments.

Isn't resistant to learning to use the toilet.

Is in a generally cooperative stage, not a negative or contrary one.

Cognitive signs

Can follow simple instructions, such as "go get the toy."

Understands the value of putting things where they belong.

Has words for urine and stool.

Understands the physical signals that mean he has to go and can tell you before it happens or even hold it until he has time to get to the potty.

Obviously Gabe's more than ready, according to the checklist above, and we wanted to train him before #2 comes along. But alas, it was not meant to be and by day 2, we abandoned the plan as he was crying so hard when placed in front of the toilet bowl. Derod's concluded that it was impossible to pee when the boy was so traumatized.

A few months later, Rou arrived and Gabe was at my in-laws' everyday during my confinement period and my very hardworking mother-in-law basically let him go diaper-free. She was willing to wipe the boy and the floor up every time he wet himself so that he would eventually want to tell us he wants to pee. I have to salute her for the effort and the results for it very much began my journey of toilet training him.

By the time the confinement period was over, and Gabe was home again with me 24-7, he was able and willing to tell me that he wanted to pee. Because my son is so particular about his habits, coupled with his disdain of the toilet bowl, it was not possible to pronounce him completely trained. I decided to take baby steps and count each crossed hurdle as victory steps to the final destination. He was diaper-free through the day, except during nap and sleep times, and when he wanted to pee, I'd let him wear his pull-up pampers. Gabe learnt to "let go" when I gave the instruction, and communicated when he was done. Later on, I simply took his regular pampers and cupped it over his bottom. The final part was to position a cup (a "special" mickey mouse plastic cup) instead and this step was surely not easy. He protested and cried for half a day, and would rather hold in his pee for that long than pee into the cup, which was obviously very agonizing. He screamed down the entire block, attempted at bargaining in between sobs, begged for hugs and comfort, and basically cried till he was exhausted and stood dozing off in the toilet. But after this crazy day, the training was complete.

But we still put him on diapers when we went to church during this initial period, since there was a lot of movement and we didn't want any accidents when he went to the toddler's class. But now, we're happy to say that he's diaper-free everywhere he goes. It sure is more convenient, since the bag is lighter and we don't have to keep changing him every 3-4 hours, but new inconveniences also arise. We have to time his toilet trips, figure out how to position him at public toilets and in cases of emergency, how to water the grass along roads. Then we learnt not to let him sleep in the car since he's still not able to control his bladder when he's asleep.

Well, lots of savings from diaper buying though, and a milestone for both the parents and the kiddo. We've still some work to do on the pooping part, but like I said, baby steps to victory!

So for the record, Gabe was officially pee-trained not too long after his second birthday :)

Proudly donning his 1st set of underwear, Winnie the Pooh no less!