But I think I’ve finally found a (self-proclaimed) girly girl that I could really like. She doesn’t just make beds. She makes beds. And desks. And bookshelves. And cupboards. And she puts up plans so you can do the same.

[A] friend called a few hours before we were supposed to get together and said, “Just wanted to let you know that I have a cold. I’m up for getting together, but I thought it should be your call.” … Why should the onus be on me to cancel the plans if she’s the one who’s sick? I say: If you think you’re contagious, step up and cancel your engagements. Or if you’re sure you’re not contagious (be honest!), stick with your plans and let the germs fall where they may.

I’ve learned not to fear being the bad guy, but I know many, many people who’d rather keep their feelings to themselves.

If you need to ask someone the “Do you mind if I” question, do them a favour, assume that they mind, and save ‘em the awkwardness of having to be honest and unmerciful. Chances are, you already know the answer (or suspect you do) but are looking for a free pass anyway.

Finding this on my bed today, along with a long-ish note-in-a-card. “I am gonna accept that unpredictability is part of the deal…”

Getting to know someone who put aside her reservations about stepping into a semi-stranger’s home to bring us something so thoughtfully handmade.

Left behind by another family that taught us something about warmth, generosity, and enthusiasm!

A letter from the sweetest 10-year-old kid I know.

Telling my friend J that our new home puts us much closer to her and her son, and her calling it “da best news of the year!”

Reconnecting with someone who, over a decade ago, was my best friend. “I just gotta say this. I missed you.”

Maybe I’ll get “Snowflake” tattooed across my chest!
Huh! Why?
Isn’t it from that movie by that guy?
????
The one that pioneered some movie technique?
????
Was it Oscar Wilde?
Oscar Wilde!?

And then it hit me. Orson Welles. Citizen Kane. Rosebud. (Not Snowflake!)

And I couldn’t stop laughing after that.

It could’ve been such a great tattoo joke, if I’d just shut up and let him go ahead with it!

It is that time of year where the parents of six year old Singaporean children go stir crazy. It is the season known as Primary One registration…

I have some friends who are in the thick of it now. And the stories from the front that I am hearing have sent me into a stressful frenzy. For the first time in years, schools that didn’t have to ballot, had to do so. Accidents have happened. Failure to change addresses to put one closer to the school, failure to locate evidence of alumni status (lost report book- who keeps those things!!?)…

Decluttering is something I do very well, and naturally my primary school report books were binned years ago.

When I read the bit above about the report books, I thought, oh no!

Anyways I decided to write in to MOE to ask what I should do if I no longer have proof of alumni status. After all if it was bad news I wanted to hear it early.

But here’s what they said:

Should you not be able to provide those documents, please be informed that our officers may be able to issue letters to members of the public stating the years and the schools that they had studied in.

However please note that our database only has student records from 1980s.

They’ll be issuing me a letter soon — so no worries if you’ve gone and trashed your report book too. A simple email to MOE will fix it!

This was a borrowed idea from this pinwheels ‘n’ pearls party.

We thought a photobooth would be a good idea, since we do have a load of props.

It was the one thing I’d remembered to put up a sign for!

I think we had some satisfied customers!

It surprised me how much the kids loved the balloons — we’d almost left them off the list! The other big hit was the sandboxes.

The bubble station was… not a hit! It’s a fun thing to try at home or out in the garden though — go for the kill and make human-sized bubbles!

So this is why I couldn’t find any cheese croissants to munch on post party.

There it is, the recap in pictures! Will leave you with the final credits:

Next up: a thank you post!

Today we walked the streets with 60 floating balloons (in the rain!), I met some people in real life for the first time, and some kids left our home with very sandy feet!

We’re one party down, another to go tomorrow as Layla officially turns 4.

I’d like to thank everyone who came and sat baking in our apartment (if you were lucky enough to get a seat inside). It’s really breezy when it’s just us three I swear! I really appreciate it, especially for the two connected-by-blog families who haven’t met us before and took a chance. :o)

More pics and details coming up soon!

Photo courtesy Ron Lim

I’m sure there are many, many parents out there who are completely wholesome, and I guess my life is pretty wholesome right now, except sometimes I feel like a tourist. I look at women gushing over their pregnancies (“I’m so happy to be carrying your baby”) or being completely in love and respectful of their partners or successfully child-proofing their entire lives and I feel like I’m living on a different planet. I’m not envious, just curious. I mean, after all, I’m the one who’s pawned off my wedding ring and trashed most of my couplehood memorabilia, and popping champagne was the last thing on my mind when I discovered I would have to share body space with another human being for nine months. Not to mention I would be parenting her with someone whose face I often felt like smashing in.

It’s not hard to imagine why I wouldn’t get it.

So I compartmentalize. I kick into Regular Mom mode when it’s time to head out for a play date or work on a puzzle or do anything involving anyone younger than five. There’s the other part of me that is chronically dissatisfied about myself and my life, love or otherwise, and it’s something that no amount of crying or ripping stuff to shreds or yelling about everything and nothing will solve. I don’t bother talking or writing about it much because I’ve done enough public whining and how you live your life is really a choice between doing something different or trying to like what you’ve got.

That’s not to say Alf doesn’t get an earful from time to time. :)

Long weekends are less fun than they should be around here, am glad we’re going back to regular programming.

Now, Alf and I know next to nothing about party throwing, but we did know we didn’t want either Barney or Barbie showing up at our home. We didn’t fancy spending hundreds of dollars on face painters or magicians either.

Thankfully we were rescued by Ohdeedoh’s “My Party” section. It’s filled with DIY ideas for decor, food, and favours — and if that doesn’t get you excited, the pictures will!

That’s how I found myself spending nights making tissue paper pom-poms and fabric party hats (I skipped the interfacing), and trust me, if I can do it, anybody can.

I also discovered dessert tables and Amy Atlas, and — this is something I didn’t even do for my own wedding — had a discussion about a cake and fondant biscuits!

Layla’s had a few requests, naturally. The party’s to feature her fave colours pink and yellow, the cake’s to have a little girl that we’re particularly fond of, and oh, she wants plenty of balloons. The cheapest way to get anything over 50 balloons in your home is to find a nearby party shop and pick them up yourself, if not you’ll be slapped with a $50 and above charge for service and transport. For us, we’ve got the party shop at Tekka Mall, which charges $1.20 per balloon, inclusive of helium and ribbons. (Apparently the Middle Road party shops have a better rate — $0.90 per balloon.)

We’ve also decided on a No-Presents policy for our party. Instead, parents are to bring along items for a dress-up box — anything from scarves, hats, to old mini dresses and sweaters would be much welcome.

I’ve made three trips to Spotlight this week and I could really get addicted to this party prep business if I’m not careful.

It’ll happen next weekend; will post pictures and details!