What's even better than a decked-out Christmas tree?

One with a HUGE stash of presents underneath.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Singapore Flyer and Dad

A warning.

This entry is Photo-heavy, and the pictures will, at times, seem Over-posed.

But hey, it was Dad’s 67th birthday and our first time on the Flyer.

So double the reason to be trigger-happy!

We were a party of 12, spanning 3 generations, with 3 kids under 3.

Can you feel the excitement yet?

The Flyer at dusk.

Thanks to my Brother, by the way, for great shots.

Where it all began - at the ticket booth. 4 seniors, 5 adults, and 3 kids, please. If you are wondering, I was flashing a freakily-wide smile at Kate, who was off-camera. Only the best for my kids.

Sharing a pre-ride shot with Max. I was about to blink.

Kate giving her best pout. She is yet to smile on-demand.

I spoke too soon. Is that a hint of a smile?

Introducing the Chains to this blog. My sister Limi, Alex and their bundle of cuteness, 6-month-old Luc.

Mummy mummy. It's the big, Big WHEEL!!!

We thought it was appropriate to have Max wear his tiger-print T-shirt from the Singapore Zoo on the Singapore Flyer. Geddit? *wink*

A photo-op before we got into the queue.

The babies were extremely well-behaved, so long as they were being carried. Kate was checking Aunt Limi's red highlights, while Luc took the opportunity to practice his boxing moves.

The shot was taken two seconds too early. What you missed, was Kate and Luc sharing a kiss. On the mouth of course. Don't forget, they are both of French descent.

The wait kinda got to us. We look pretty darned bored. All of us.

Nothing like another photo-op to bring back the smiles! Kate, stop pulling Luc's ear!

The capsule up close. At this point, Max was pretty much screaming his head off from all the excitement.

We're in! Max stakes out a corner for the best view... not.

Tourists! Er, I mean, Us!

Sisters! Mothers! Cheese!

Me and Kate. Again. I'm making up for the lack of mother-daughter portraits.

And what's up with your elbow Kate?

One last group shot before Kate dissolved into a flood of tears, fed up of being stuck in a 4 by 7 square metres capsule suspended in mid-air.

Next stop: Dad's restaurant where we celebrated Dad's birthday.

Wonderful French-made chocolate cake.

I was in charge of the candles.

For the second time that night, Max was yelling his head off, this time to the tune of Happy Birthday To You...

Happy Birthday Dad!

Best way to end the night. With cake and wine.

And here's my favourite shot of Max from recent days

It’s a look he uses often, especially on days when he wants company blowing soap bubbles outside in the 35-degree heat and 99-percent humidity.

Unfortunately for us, he generally gets his way.

This is my latest favourite picture of Kate

And it’s not just because Her Royal Chubby One is wearing spaghetti straps and her trademark wide-eyed smirk.

In the photo, Kate is almost/nearly/just-about starting to crawl.

Did I mentioned she’s already eight months, one week and three days old?

You’re growing up so fast Baby!

Mummy's girl indeed

Much has been said/discussed/debated within the household in recent days about who Kate resembles.

More specifically, whether or not she looks like Mum, aka, me.

On outings with Kate in the past week alone, at least three complete strangers, drawn by Kate’s ‘cute baby’ bait, approached us offering various questions as ice-breakers.

How old is she? What’s her name? She likes to suck her hand hor?

And invariably, the following comment would follow:

Looks like Mummy.

Now I believe I may have said in a previous blog that I don’t see any resemblance between the two of us. (Not that I don’t want to. I would love to think she got her big gorgeous round eyes and rose-bud mouth from me.)

But to be fair, comparing a barely 8 month old baby to a 30-something year old adult would be like comparing, say, a caterpillar to a butterfly.

So for the sake of argument, I present you with a vintage-limited-edition-one-of-a-kind photo of moi, dating back to the 70’s, taken on my first birthday. (I would've preferred to use an even younger photo of myself except that I don’t have any).

And here’s Kate, in a picture taken today.

I suppose we do kinda look alike, give or take a double eyelid or two, plus or minus several pounds of baby fat and ang moh genes aside.

You could say I’m a Christmas junkie

There is no other occasion on the holiday calendar that gets my festive juices flowing like Christmas does.

I love everything about it - from listening to carols, to josling with crowds in decked-out malls while shopping for presents, right down to the cheesy Christmas movie re-runs on television.

Of course, nothing marks the occasion like having a Big, Fat, Wealthy-looking tree.

Similar to the one Max, Kate and myself put up at the weekend.

I present you a butterfly, dog, lotus flower and puffer fish, made entirely out of paper

To say I've conquered my Origami demons would be a major understatement.

More like I've kicked their butts into oblivion.

The day I faced my Origami demons

I have a confession.

To all the people in my past whom I may have said, “I HATE ORIGAMI,” to, I like to clarify, that that’s only half the truth.

The whole truth, was that I once sucked at it, and didn’t want to admit it, so it was easier to say I hated it, so I never had to do it, to avoid revealing how much I really sucked at it.

Are you still following? Good.

I know what you are thinking. How can anyone suck at Origami? Right?

In my defence, I was maybe about five, and having butter fingers runs in my family.

So of course my son came up to me today, with colored flint paper in hand, and asked me to make him a paper crane.

I didn’t know he even knew what a crane was, but that’s beside the point. Despite my limited knowledge of Origami, I remember the paper crane (as famous as it is) to be among the hardest animals to make.

I hope he didn’t notice the initial panic on my face, after which I quickly regained my composure, whipped out my laptop, and proceeded to google “Origami crane.”

Ah. The wonders of Cyberspace. Not only did I succeed at crafting three paper cranes, I may have conquered my Origami demons for good.

What’s even better than knowing I don’t suck at Origami?

Knowing my son doesn’t think I suck either.

How many photos have you got, of yourself with your only daughter?

Me?

Five.

I mean it.

I've been so busy playing paparazzo to Kate, I forgot to include myself in the shots.

Here are the rare moments, in reverse chronological order.

7 months

4 months

3 months

2 months

Birth

By the way, it's been seven months, and I still don't see any mother-daughter resemblance.

Do you?

Holy Moses!

Or should I say, Holo- Moses?

Obviously, I'm not very good at puns, so let's get straight to the point.

I was a little creeped out by CNN's coverage of the US Presidential Election this morning.

And it had nothing to do with Obama's victory (He should have won, and he did. Thank you America).

Rather, it was the fancy pantsy Hologram Interviews that were being conducted.

Yep, picture the famous scene of Princess Leia delivering a hologram message in the movie Star Wars and you get my drift.



News anchor Wolf Blitzer was interviewing "virtual" correspondent Jessica Yellin, who was in Chicago. And no, she wasn't set up at some election site somewhere in the state, but beamed as a 3-D life-sized image into CNN's election centre in New York.

Now I used to work for CNN and know the network prides itself as being at the fore-front of technology as far as news coverage is concerned.

But hologram TV?

One - It's not very relevant, as it takes the reporter away from where the news is happening. How to show and tell?

Two - Isn't it a little 'out there' in the Star-Trekky sort of way to be taken seriously in news?

Three - C'mon, wouldn't you rather someone more enigmatic be beamed as a hologram, like, say, Yoda?

A Toddler and a Gentleman

I've always known Max to be a charmer, but when did he start offering compliments?

So here's the story.

I was preparing to attend a birthday party over the weekend and put on what I thought was a cute little outfit.

That was when Max walked in.

He glanced up at me, then beamed like a proud little boy would.

I believe his exact words were," Oh. Mummy. You look So Cute!"

What a little gentleman. With good taste too!

All About Elmo

Seeing Baby Kate has found a New Best Friend in Elmo, I decided to do a bit of background check on him.

Yes, I am being protective, and rightly so, since the young lady is all of six months and 23 days old.

And yes, Elmo is a ‘he.’

I know that because Google told me so.

Google also told me that Elmo is three and a half years old (and has been since 1984), and is voiced by a puppeteer using his falsetto range (which explains the annoying voice).

You may know that he has starred in a few movies (Elmo In Grouchland, 1999 and Elmo saves Christmas, 1996) and did the talk show rounds (The View, Martha, The Rosie O’Donnell Show etc).

But did you know that he appeared in the political hit TV drama series The West Wing in 2004?

And testified before the U.S. Congress in 2002, apparently urging support for increased funding in music education?


I knew he was famous, but That Famous?

I suppose I could allow Kate to continue hanging out with Elmo.

After all, it never hurts to have another friend, especially a high-profile one with connections.

Kate, Meet Elmo

...and Elmo, meet Baby Kate.

Considering that she’s been entertained non-stop in front of the telly for the past 45 minutes, I think Kate may have looked past Elmo’s (very) annoying voice and found a good friend in the red furry muppet monster.

These heels are made for...

Toddlers tend to get away with anything.

Especially if it’s a little boy trying on Mum’s stilettos for the first time.


Here’s Max in my black Nine West three-and-a-half-inch heels, hamming it up for the camera.

Altogether now: “So Cute!”

Great Gossip

Thanks to a friend who lent me the entire first season of Gossip Girl on DVD, I finally got to find out if Serena and Dan stayed together, whether Blair and Nate 'did it,' and if bad boy Chuck and annoying wannabe Jenny got what they deserved.

If you haven't heard, Gossip Girl is an American television hit drama series about a bunch of socialite teenagers growing up in New York’s Upper East Side, who attend elite academic institutions while dealing with a whole barrage of teenage issues, involving sex, drugs, and alcohol.

I know what you are thinking.

What do these kids have in common with Me – a 30-something middle-class Mum with two young children living in Singapore?

Absolutely nothing.

But there’s something about the gorgeous cast (don't just take my word for it, have a look yourself), juicy script and teenage angst portrayed on screen that draws you in.

Of course, it helps that the show bears all the hallmarks of typical teen melodrama: back-stabbing, boyfriend-stealing, rumour-spreading, suicide-attempting and even date-raping.

So yes, I’ve been suffering from ‘Gossip’ withdrawal for several months now, since I left Melbourne in February, when the series, which was shown on prime-time television in Australia, was only mid-way through the season.

I was left wondering about the fates of S, D, B, N, C and J.

Until Last Weekend, that is. When I stayed up till 4am to finish the series. Two nights in a row.

The verdict: The series was worth every darn minute and the morning-after eyebags. It was as trashy, over-the-top and excessive as I remember it to be.

Now, if you’d excuse me while I work my contacts to get my hands on Season Two.