Travelling with a Toddling Baby

Right after Bobo’s first birthday, we decided that we were confident enough to travel with him by ourselves. No parents. No helper (this sounds shameful but the reality is that working parents spend only weekends caring for their progeny and confidence levels don’t exactly run high). After much discussion (nothing hectic, nothing too far etc etc), we flew away to Kota Kinabalu in East Malaysia

The packing –

Two large suitcases, one small suitcase, one backpack, one stroller and one baby carrier. D and I occupied half a large suitcase. Toddling babies clearly travel like royalty with innumerable luggage and two caretakers

The flight –

You never quite realize how cramped economy class seats are till you actually take a toddling baby on one. It takes extreme social conditioning to understand why one needs to remain trapped in a 2.5 ft by 3 ft space for 2.5 hours and clearly babies are too young to comprehend this aspect of life.  Air Asia (bless them) gave us front row seats both ways and that made a lot of difference to our travel experience. It gave Bobo a bit more room to play. Considering that the onward journey bordered on his bedtime, he mercifully slept off in our arms. On the return leg, we made full use of strangers who smiled at Bobo and seemed ready to entertain him for a couple of minutes, albeit with us hovering next to him. 

The stay –

The first part of our stay was in a child-friendly resort. They had high chairs, baby cots, stroller-friendly walkways, a special kids menu, a shallow pool, kids club, babysitting service and basically the works. In a different life this would have got me pounding the gates to be let out. Now I was willing to throw large sums of money to avail of these services.

Multiple trips to the pool, beach and one lovely massage later, I was bored. There is only so much you can do in a resort and I was glad we had also planned a three day stop in a downtown hotel, a much more modest affair. The plan was to walk around and take in the sights and sounds of the city. The idea was quite nice, except KK is not an exciting city to walk around in. The promenade was well-built but quite dirty and it rained all evenings, forcing us into malls for entertainment of any sort.

Activities –

East Malaysia is stunningly green and beautiful, what with its rain forests and marine parks. People do the 9-km Mt Kinabalu trek or snorkel around the Tunku Abdul Rahman Marine Park. Luckily with Bobo, we had the perfect excuse to just laze around in the beach and ignore the more strenuous activities which we are anyway not capable of undertaking in our present state of sloth.

We went for an orangutan feeding session on one of the days, which Bobo watched open-mouthed, as did we. We went on the North Borneo Heritage Railway, a charming half day train journey reminiscent of colonial times when liveried waiters scurried around serving yummy breakfast and lunches as the train gently rolled past the landscape. I love train journeys and this one ranked highly in my book.

Eat –

We were reasonably confident that Bobo would not be too fussy when it came to mealtimes. Neither were we. Following a friend’s advice, we did not particularly care if he was not getting a perfectly balanced diet. Of course, considering we were yet to introduce Bobo to the pleasure of loading up on the muffins, pancakes and waffles, it was us we had to worry about on the issue of balanced diets. Bobo pretty much ate fruits, wholewheat bread, cheese, rice, chicken, boiled veggies and fish. He was happy to eat off our plates most times (and vice versa. Especially the yummy kids pasta or the breaded fried fish. I came back with a vastly expanded waistline).

And all that bonding –

Bobo basked in all the attention he was getting, which was of course primarily just our physical presence. We basked in the joy of being next to Bobo 24/7. D and I took turns to babysit Bobo so we could do our own thing too. But most times we were just happy watching him be mesmerized by the sound of a loud bird outside our room or loll around patiently while Bobo examined every lamp post in the long walkways to reach our room.

A good vacation

Things I learnt from one year of being a mom

# I need to get enough sleep. Adequate sleep takes precedence over my child, work, relationships, exercise and food. 

# I am more pro-choice than before. If you are not in a position to love and bring up a child, please don’t bring it into existence. And on a related note, I am all for sex education

# I don’t think I have ever loved anyone or anything as much as I have my child despite having lovely parents and being married to a nice and kind person. I can only assume parental love is a very primal feeling. 

# I need more to my life than just my child. I need adult interaction. I need to do something that gives me a sense of identity. I love being called ‘Mummy’ when I accompany my child to Gymboree. But I would probably feel depressed if I was only called that all the time. 

# Instead of glaring at small babies who are crying, I now feel sorry for them. Babies usually cry for very good reason. 

# I still can’t comfort any child other than my own. And even there, I am not always successful. 

# I am capable of sharing my prime spot in my child’s life with my helper. I am just happy that they bond well as of now. 

# I have become a better worker. I have never felt as eager to get back home as I do now and if that means being focussed and efficient all day long, then so be it 

# I have started prioritising and planning everything I do. I no longer have an infinite stretch of time to loiter at a shopping mall for three hours in the weekend but I do make the time to go out during my lunch breaks every once in a while for retail therapy. 

# I am enjoying simple games like peak-a-boo. Soon I would have shed all my carefully cultivated cynicism. But maybe it is not such a bad thing.

# I cry over movies with even a single scene of a child suffering. I can no longer watch horror movies. This may be a bad thing

# Work is an important part of me and I did not contemplate giving up work after having a child. I used to think women who gave up working after a child were defectors to the cause of feminism. But after having my own child, I can see why motherhood means different things for different people and I have stopped being judgmental about people’s choices. 

# I have started thinking twice before I buy most things. Apparently a spendthrift like me can also be brought to heel at the thought of saving up for her child

# My no. 1 worry used to be about things related to work. Now it is things related to my child. 

# A child is a big challenge emotionally and can test relationships to the utmost. Broken marriages cannot be fixed by a child. If anything, it is likely to be other way around

# This is the most important investment that two people can make together and it can bring them a lot closer if they are in a good place

# The amount of joy in bringing up a child has caught me by surprise. You can have a horrid day at work and come back and see a tiny thing pumping its fists into the air upon seeing you and then nothing else will matter. 

# I needed all the help I could get during my pregnancy and the first year of parenting. This is the first time in my adult life when I have truly needed family to be there for me and I am grateful I could lean on them. 

# People at work can be a lot more supportive than you think. A good boss who can put up with lower productivity for a few months will make all the difference to your decision to continue at the same workplace. 

# A baby is actually easier to manage in the earlier months than later. Except you are so terrified of the job that you find it growing on you only as they grow

# I did not know I was capable of not sleeping through the night for an entire year. 

# I did not know I had married a man who would pick up the baby every time he cried for reasons other than a night feed. This is the one act that has reduced my sleep deprivation in the last year and kept me sane this year. To think this criterion never even featured in the checklist I had made eons ago on desirable characteristics in a potential husband. 

# I used to feel irritated by dads who are not too involved with their kids and let their wife/mother/mother-in-law do most of the work. Now I just feel sorry for them for missing out. 

# Pregnancy is a very lonely state. No matter how helpful the people around you, you are the one literally doing the heavy lifting. Once the child comes out, I actually thought things got better since I had so many people around to look after him. 

# I am happy to listen to advice from everybody on parenting tips and techniques but ultimately the only two people who can decide how to bring up our child is the two of us. (Good luck Bobo!)

# In the darkest part of the night, with a wailing baby in my arms, I have had moments when I have wished for my old life. 

# In the darkest part of the night, with a nursing baby in my arms, I have just felt grateful to have had the chance to be a mother. I am glad I did not listen to myself when I seriously wondered if motherhood was for me. 

Book Update: And the year ends with..

Yet again I seem to have mostly forgotten what I have been reading. This is not a commentary a quality of the books. It is more my memory which is becoming like a sieve with each passing day. The positive side of this is that I can finally reread books without remembering what comes ahead. I am not entirely sure if I have already read Alice Munro’s Runaway but it does not matter because I enjoyed the book thoroughly and if I am doing it the second time without recollection of the first, so much the better. Runaway is a collection of short stories, located yet again somewhere in Northern Canada in small towns. Munro’s characters grip you beautifully and keep you engaged with their little human foibles.  Short stories can sometimes be too short or too brief to capture the stories they tell. Not so with this collection. You read a piece, savour it and feel satisfied.

I discovered two authors this time around both of whom I enjoyed. This has been a stroke of good luck since finding a good author is a lot tougher than it looks. Incidentally both authors were brought to my attention in the Guardian’s Books section. 

I had noted down Alan Furst’s name dutifully in my reading list and found his Dark Star in the library. This is a spy novel set in Poland just before the Second World War. I am no fan of spy novels, yet this one kept me going. Unfortunately I could not finish it before the extended due date and my mood changed and I moved on to other books. Then I went looking for him again and found Spies of Warsaw. Same settings. Clearly Furst specialises in one thing and he is bloody good at it. Spies of Warsaw held my attention a lot better. It traces a French military attaché posted in Warsaw. The attaché though is just an excuse to lovingly dwell into details of what the spy network would have been like back then and you sit there enthralled. One point I especially enjoyed was the author’s casual comment on Allied countries who spy on each other. Everyone knows everyone does it but when you are caught out by your so-called friends, it is embarrassing. Reminded me of U.S. and Germany now! 

The other author Kate Atkinson was in the news for not having made it to the Booker list this year. The library stocked an older novel ‘When will there be good news’. Despite the melodramatic name, the novel itself is quite gripping. A little girl witnesses a horrific incident. Years later, a young teenage babysitter worries about her employer. A policewoman wonders about her marriage while getting obsessed with one of her cases. An ex-policeman is on a questionable journey but is totally sidetracked. All these paths meander, sometimes joining together, sometimes not. It has been a while since I have read a fast paced thriller and I do enjoy my share of them. I am now waiting to go back and find another book by her.

There was Nadeem Aslam’s The Wasted Vigil. Inspired by a post on a friend’s facebook page, I looked for his Maps for Lost Lovers but the library only stocked this. Through its fictional setting, it describes the sad and long period of turmoil that Afghanistan has been going through. Another book that made me feel glad I have the life I have and was not born a woman in a fundamentalist setting. 

Apart from these notable books, I turned to an old favourite P.G. Wodehouse’s A Pelican at Blandings for comfort reading. What an author. What an author.

Also read a book by a ‘chick-lit’ author discovered by mom. Jane Green’s Other Woman chronicles the daughter-in-law and mother-in-law relationship. Like all these things there is a kernel of truth that gets stretched but not to the point where you throw your hands up. 

There was Maria Semple’s This One is Mine. The story revolves around two women. One of whom is married to a very well-off man, has a child, a good home, a good life and yet wants more. The other longs for all these symbols of stability and chases them. The protagonist sounded like an early and unpolished version of the one in Where do you go Bernadette. The latter book I loved. So this one was a slight disappointment. 

Now I recollect reading these books a while ago and forgetting to jot them down in the blog. Chicken, mules and two old fools by Victoria Twead. My mom had recommended it as light reading after spotting it on a blog some time ago. It indeed is, describing a couple who move countries, live in an idyllic location, renovate the house they are living in and make a killing selling it. Sounds like it is your dream come true? Yeah, I felt that way too.

I also read Salmon Fishing in the Yemen by Torday. The name sounds light and funny, the book is less so. It starts off wryly enough describing a mid-level fisheries scientist who is roped into the hopeless project of starting salmon fishing in Yemen and the story goes on to tell us if that is actually achieved. There is a slight heaviness to the tone, with funny episodes having an underlying bleakness. Don’t expect laugh out loud and you should be ok.

I am quite satisfied with how 2013 has ended in terms of books. A friend and I were discussing books and she was amazed that I found time to read despite holding a full time job and having a kid. She is quite an avid reader herself, so it was well thought out, serious compliment. I thought about it and told her that reading seems to be the only constant in my life just now what with the baby and changing countries and all. 

So here is hoping I get to read more good books next year. Happy new year all. 

Birthday parties, here we come

Bobo was invited for two birthday parties last weekend.

I was quite kicked.

If someone asked me about my plans, I could finally complain ‘you know. Need to chaperone my son from one party to the next’.

I had heard this excuse for years and years all the while gritting my teeth. Somehow parents who said it thought they were superior creatures (though of course, they were just boring). It was nice to test out the chance for being superior.

In the end, I had to cut short a lunch we were having with my friends in order for Bobo to make it the party.

I did not feel superior when I excused myself. Just boring.

The party itself was good fun though. Bobo’s new found love for other kids means he is thrilled to be amongst them even if he just ignores them. The venue was also a play area, with plenty of toys all of which Bobo proceeded to test out one by one. He pushed cars into walls. He chewed the fake ice cream cones in the mini-kichenette. He went through mini-tunnels suited for human beings of 4 feet and below. I followed him, bent over and feeling like Goliath.

Tiring but nice! There is something about watching your progeny enjoy himself that makes you feel like a million dollars

Yesterday, I accompanied Bobo to another party. This one was in a plain and simple function room without childproofing or toys. D was not with me. That left me as the sole adult responsible for Bobo and I realised that it can be quite a strain.

Bobo likes to practice his walking at every opportunity and even as I kept a hawk-like eye on him, he ran to the nearest coffee table and shook it. A plate of chips on it sprayed the floor. I rushed over, noticed the birthday boy’s mother rushing over and I apologized while bending over to pick up the chips. The bboy’s mother held onto Bobo and cooed to him ‘oh, you are allowed to eat chips is it?”

“No. He is not” I stood up immediately knocking a couple of more chips. Not that I cared any more.

There was Bobo thoughtfully masticating a chip.

Ever since Bobo started solids we have been avoiding salt in his food. Baring things like idli and bread, we have taken the effort to cook small portions for him separately without salt. This is based on a new-fangled theory about sodium not being good for below one year olds.

It was an event in Bobo's history to say the least.

We moved on and his friend A made an appearance. A is a sweet and thin 2.5 year old girl who is quite fond of Bobo. She beamed at him, proceeded to lift him and give him a hug and then unable to carry dropped him on the floor. Bobo crashed down spectacularly face forward as I watched. Luckily with A being tiny herself, it was not a worrisome height to fall from. In a while, the parties involved had been calmed and ‘hi-fi’s given.

So far I had let my kid make a mess, not stopped him from getting hurt and not had a single conversation with an adult that I did not know or lasted more than two minutes.

I wanted some food and conversation.

Tucking Bobo firmly under my arm, I hand him a piece of a cheese sandwich and loaded my plate with some chocolate cake. The host then introduced me to one of the guests, a professor. I began to chat about the relative merits of professoring in the U.S. and Singapore while chomping away.

Ah. This was more like it.

Then a tiny hand came into my range of vision, dipped its hand into the cream on the cake in my plate and disappeared. I looked towards Bobo to note his face smeared with cream.

So, the whole avoid-salt exercise mentioned earlier? Included a no-sugar subcomponent too.

We were planning to introduce both salt and sugar once he turned one.

But apparently Bobo had decided to take matters into his own hands. Literally.

I guess what is a birthday party without cake and chips? With that, I ate more cake, wiped the remaining cake from Bobo’s hands and decided it was time to make a quick exit.