Now…. where was I?

Time for me to get back to the business of blogging.

I have to admit, I've been tardy announcing the arrival of the new one, largely because:

(A) I do not have a good photo to post. He's adamant not to open his eyes properly, except at about midnight when I want to sleep. He's also not much of a looker. We affectionately call him the little old man.

(B) He has no name. Let's not get too much into this, but the bottomline is, despite my saying we would work on names over the last two billion posts, we are, well, stuck for names. The Hong Kong government gives us 42 days and we are going to make full use of it. It's a bit of a family joke right now, but he's everything from "Boy-boy" to "wu2 ming2" ("no name" in Mandarin, thanks to my mom who was watching Zhang Yimou's Hero on TV a few days after we came home from the hospital) to "Sara" (I call him that when I'm exasperated and forget that I now have more than one child to be exasperated with). We both have our favourites, but can't convince the other to take it. Our meet-in-the-middle names are good, but we're still hoping to find that one elusive name that will make us sit up and say, "That's it!" Call us picky. Judging from our apartment hunting experience, I'd say we are VERY picky.

So here I am, blogging away while our son sleeps next to us. I should be sleeping too, since he'll be having me up a good part of the night. Somehow, though, subsequent children aren't as harrowing as the first one. Despite being woken up several times a night, I function pretty well. I couldn't say the same when Sara was two weeks old – I was on the verge of collapse from lack of sleep. In fact, I'm wondering what all the fuss was about when I had Sara – one child is easy peasy. Now with two, I'd say my break comes when I only have one to deal with (the other being asleep). I'm not sure how you moms with three or more cope, but certainly I am in awe. Delivering our son was the really easy bit. A non-event in itself – Danny said I didn't even look exhausted immediately after delivery. This is quite unlike labour and delivery with Sara which was worthy of being called a war story, what with the 24 hours of labour and having to be sewn up for a good half hour after delivery. The difficult part for me is just starting – juggling the two and making sure everyone gets enough attention, including the husband.

Sara has taken the new addition reasonably well, or as well as a two-year-old would take it. She finds him quite fascinating, and desparately wants to show affection, except I have to stop her. That's because affection to her means head-butting. She can head-butt her parents, but her little brother's a little too fragile for that right now. She has had her moments though, like kicking him in the head (accidentally, I'd like to think) and screaming when he cries. I do feel quite bad for her – the realization that she's no longer THE ONE must be quite a crushing feeling. Plus her mommy no longer has all the time in the world for her, especially in the middle of the night and first thing in the morning. I think she's been showing signs of insecurity and I try to keep up with some of our activities together, like the going-to-bed routine and spending time in the afternoon playing with her, but it's very tiring at times. I comfort myself saying I do the best I can, but I do feel quite bad for her.

And there it is. Thanks for asking and coming back through to check for updates. I have to get back into reading everyone's blogs – I'm so out of date!

My husband loves me

For the anal retentive. I present to you the perfect gift.

Danny's always thought of me as being somewhat perculiar. I don't care for diamonds, I hardly own any jewellry, real or otherwise. I don't care much for clothes (I like to say I like the basic and classic look, but in a nutshell, I'm a fashion dinosaur) and I don't like shopping much. I like looking and drooling over designer bags, but I own none except for a few fakes. I do confess a weakness for shoes (hey, I gotta have some normal traits). I don't go for facials and I don't do expensive hair dos. My make-up and skin care products all come from Watsons.

And my idea of the perfect gift is the all-in-one printer/fax/scanner/copier he got for me two weeks back. Yes, my husband thinks I'm strange, but at least I know he loves me.

What’s your shoe?

Just as I was bemoaning the fact that my feet have swelled to look like Sara's still baby-like feet in this past week (telltale signs of oncoming labour?), I read Ange's entry about flip flops. I get to reflecting about my favourite shoes and I sigh – I love high heels. Being pregnant and later being a mother to a young baby usually means I should stay off my usual three-inchers, but really, being in flat shoes is really unflattering for me. I have big and wide and bony feet – very ugly. I find that being in heels at least gives the illusion of having tinier feet, even if the foot is wide and vein-y. In fact, prior to having children, I had no flat shoes. So much so that when I finally gave up and moved to flats with the first pregnancy, Danny gave me a perculiar look one day and said I had shrunk.

So as I look at my elephant feet right now, I anxiously await the day I can get back into strappy sandals. Having a baby is all good and wonderful, but looking dumpy (and mind you, it is hard to look sleek and gorgeous when you're carrying a bowling ball around) and shedding your favourite things can be quite a sacrifice. I'm not that into dressing up, but shoes – ah, shoes – are my one exception.