Dim Sum Mum - Tess' Little Pieces

downright creepy

i got this mass email the other day and it is so creepy i would like to share it with the rest of the world.

How Smart is Your Right Foot?

This is so funny that it will boggle your mind. And you will keep trying at least 50 more times to see if you can outsmart your foot, but you can't.

1. While sitting at your desk, lift your right foot off the floor and make clockwise circles.

2. Now, while doing this, draw the number "6" in the air with your right hand. Your foot will change direction.

now, so that we are not seen as discriminatory (canadians! ha ha ha ha ha), i also tried this with my left foot (no, daniel day lewis was not with me), and got the same result. aggh!

trying to stay off the topic of children...so here is a little something about hong kong.

hong kong loves schmaltz. as if hello kitty (20 years and going, and she now even sports her beau, dear daniel !!) wasn't enough to convince you of the pop culture mindset, let's turn to music. in this city of avarice and long working hours, air supply and peter, paul and mary concerts sell out faster and enjoy higher name recognition than eminem and his angry peers. i like that quirk. i like most things about hong kong.

one of hong kong's most enduring endearing love ballad is by a group called MICHAEL LEARNS TO ROCK. where michael learned to rock is something i don't know, because before moving to hong kong i knew nothing of michael or his educational aspirations.

but THAT'S WHY YOU GO AWAY is a crazy popular song in hong kong. combine every celine dion, mariah carey, air supply (three hong kong favourites) and whitney houston hit, and you get an idea of the popularity of this song. if hong kong idol was a television show, i am sure every contestant would sing this song when ballad night was on. when i take the kids to pt, i am guaranteed that during my 40 minute stay in the hospital, i will hear this song piping out over the PA system. taxi drivers play it (and sing it, possibly hoping i am a record executive and will make them a star??). when mum and i returned from bangkok, as we were landing our plane began playing music. what song? guess among yourselves. it was even an extendamix version, which was thoughtful because our plane took a very long time to taxi to our gate.

hong kong people, like most WASPS, are not naturally rhythmic people. especially when you compare us to the filipinas who groove to hymns and disco songs on the streets, beside churches, and under bridges on sundays when they have a day off and a chance to let loose. but even these grooving gals love MLTR. interesting.

i should mention that the filipinas like MLTR, but they have other song preferences. one song that makes them happiest, and certainly the song i have heard sung most, has a chorus like this:

my heart goes sha la la la la (clap clap clap)

sha la la

in the morning whoa-oh-oh

sha la la la la (clap clap clap)

sha la la

in the sunshine

my heart goes sha la la la la (clap clap clap)

sha la la la

in the evening whoa oh oh

sha la la la la (clap clap clap)

sha la la la

just for you.

sebastian, with his speech impediment, bless him, managed to stutter out that chorus about one year ago. he was bustin a move with lita and a couple of her friends. he is definitely a white man in the making, but he doesn't know that yet and he certainly didn't care then.

the other night charles and i were coming home from dinner and i saw a medium sized billboard advertising REM, who will be here march 20. less than 20 metres along the road, a BIGGER billboard announced the concert date of "musical great" BONEY M.

it's all about taste.

so i guess there can be no disputin'

hong kong loves "rah rah rasputin"

* as a former journalist, i couldn't let MLTR go unresearched, so i did a google search on them. they are danish, and formed in the early 1990's. still enjoying huge popularity in asia, south africa and probably denmark.

marriage isn't 50-50, it is 100-100.

this is a good rule to live by, but a hard one.

recently, i have made a 100% marriage tough decision.

thursday, i am going with magnificent charles and sebastian to antigua. i will be gone from the triplets for 12 days. when i was in phuket, after five days i was anxious to return. barely one month later, i am leaving them again.

i will be 37 hours away from the babies. and that's if there is flight availability that day.

why antigua? good question. magnificent charles' mum was born and grew up there. when she died in September 2002, one of her last wishes was that the entire family be together in antigua. magnificent charles' dad, magnificent charles, and his sisters took this wish to heart.

originally, we tried to go in early 2003. but someone cancelled it then. the second attempt was kiboshed because yours truly was gestating triplets (really! are they natural?). so here we are, 2005. plans are made.

of course, my health has been terrible. for a while, the combination of my health, and knowing how much i was going to miss the triplets made me feel i could not go. having a seizure on a plane is a new one for me, and i didn't feel the overwhelming need to be part of that particular exclusive elite.

magnificent charles really, really wanted me to go. the last time he was in antigua (back in 2002, he went to boat week with good friends), he missed me. he had a great time with the boys, but when they weren't sailing, he was exploring, and wanted to share the sights with me. charles knows i like walking through markets, watching the stalls get set up in the mornings, sitting in a soda, watching the town doze under the nailing sun.

MC knew this trip was going to be tough for him. being in hong kong, he doesn't see a lot of sights that evoke memories of times he and his mother shared together. do you miss your mum? i would ask, and he would say, "well sure, but she wasn't part of this world".

well, antigua is where she started. and was a young girl. his family is going to take a day and travel around to where magnificent's mum lived, taught, went to school and church. if there is a time to have the impact of her life and death rolling upon him like those famous turquoise waves, it will be in antigua.

he wants me around for support.

but i didn't think i could go, and go wholeheartedly. i just can't.

i couldn't stand the thought of the babies becoming more familiar with lita and mila than me.

i explained this rationally, lovingly and calmly.

and he looked at me sadly, rationally, lovingly and calmly and said,

so how do you think i will feel when i am away from you for six weeks this summer?

ah yes, this summer, when after spending one week with charles' family, my parents have offered to bring us to yellowknife, look after my almost basketball team. babies, and their much loved wassin. i KNOW that charles travels a lot, and chances were good that even if the babies and i were here this summer he would be gone probably two of those six weeks at least, and working 12 hour days (ironically, the times they are awake) five days of the seven.

but still, it made me think.

and eventually, compromise.

so i am going to antigua.

i can't tell you right now how much i will miss the babies. i don't know yet.

i have a bunch of books and have promised doctors, friends and husband that i will sleep, alot.

i am committed to going, and i am committed to charles. i have let him down many times. this is one time i won't. i am committed to ensuring charles gets the relaxation he so desperately needs as well.

do i wish i weren't going? there is no point to that question, is there dr phil. i am going.

100 per cent.

you were thinking it was time for the babies to get another checkup, weren't you? after all, it had been one month and three days since all three were weighed, measured and debated.

it had been one month and three days since i had to flag down a taxi while lita and i balance, three children and their accessories: three meals and an equal number of bottles into a heated pack (the partner to the chilled pack sebastian and i would carry to the hospital each morning with my breast milk in it for the babies), three blankets, one double stroller and one car seat, three medical folders, three change of nappy kits, two changes of clothes (how's that for risky?), and various other stuff. and we just can't plonk them down on the road and wait for a cab like we used to (or i used to..she never went along with it)...oh no, they're crawling now.

did i mention we have two clinics? the last one we went to is a three minute walk away, door to door. no kidding. this one, well, it used to be a nine minute taxi ride, but, out of sheer spite, it closed this january. so now i have to go to one that seems nearer china than our flat. and of course, i forgot the chinese address for the clinic (to be fair, so did lita, and i had remembered all the other stuff), and this cab driver didn't have any way of communicating with his head office (which is illegal), so we had to cruise around for ages until i got my bearings. we finally got there.

and then it was lugging everything into the lift. and people are being really nice and asking if they are triplets (at least that is what i think they were asking, this is a very local part of town), and i am agreeing, but my arms are aching and i know the lineup (you see the dr/nurse on a first come first serve basis) is growing and i have to get in there.

it is 9am, and the babies are meant to be sleeping. while i am queuing lita gets them settled, opens the stroller and puts the chairs into recline and the girls pop thumbs into their mouths and start to get ready to doze, but then the crowds begin again. how do you ask people nicely not to touch your children? especially when their eyes are closing? jasper gets thrilled with the attention, and is all smiley.

i learned a few years ago there is no correlation between how nice people are and the number of teeth they have. it is a good lesson.

when our number is called, one by one i take the team in. all babies love having their nappies removed. the appointment seems good until the nurse says that the wee three should be recognising the word "no", dropping small items into cups, not putting things into their mouths.

but its close to mealtime...of course things are going in their mouths! i defend my offspring.

and they should also be pointing. she adds.

really?

so who knows. and then she says that their heads are all quite big in relation to their sizes, so the doctor should see them.

the LAST thing i want to do is spend more time here, (no offense intended), and in vain, i pull out a picture of charles, who has a MASSIVE conk. it is a caldwell trait. he has a big head, his sisters have big heads, his dad has a big head i say....

to no avail.

we wait in a new lineup, for immunizations. we are getting the third hep b immunization today. and then, it looks like we will feed them, and then see the doctor.

at 11.15, they all get their shots, and then we settle down to feed them. a curious crowd wants to watch, and my kids don't care. they just want to eat. bottles drained (jasper and sela hold their own bottles now, but according to the nurse they should be holding cups), and lentils and spinach eaten. yogurt avidly swallowed.

then they saw the doctor, and then went home.

and we all went to bed.

and i saw as i put away their medical kits that their next appointment is less than one month away.

but i was a smart girl, i got the receptionist to write down the clinic's location on their medical kits, so next time there is no danger of getting lost.

whew.

the amazing race

does THE AMAZING RACE have to count as a reality tv show? it is so UNFAIR to suggest it is on par with THE BACHELORETTE or i'm a celebrity, get me out of here.

it is such a great programme. the countries, the challenges, the cultures, and the airports.

i am a faithful AR watcher. so is sister pam, as well as friends steph and dale and denby and matt.

as the new season (7) has just started, i will say:

as of episode one, i have no problem with rob and amber. at first, i was hesitant, but i have to say, i liked them fine. some folk are angry that they traded in on their celebrity to get ahead, but other people trade in on their looks and youth, so hey shouldn't rob and amber use their talents? plus, they were respectful of the other cultures they visited, tried to speak spanish when they could, and commented on the beauty of peru. no problems. freddy and kendra (winners of AR6) weren't incredibly dislikeable people (although did you notice freddy used big words when he was wearing his glasses??), but alienated many with their constant whinging criticism of the countries they visited.

i was disappointed in the mother and son team. what sort of parent states they will lie and cheat to win? isn't their talent enough?

very disappointed the down home boys got eliminated first round. they were good fun.

i don't have any particular affinity with the couple hoping to put the 1 million dollars towards IVF, but i wish them luck.

but enough of that...can you fellow AR watchers tell me HOW the cameramen can possibly stay unbiased and not help the team they are filming make a crucial decision? let them know when they are stuffing it up? indicate with a nod of the head the correct road to wander down? how could you not root for the nicer couples? wouldn't you want to help a deserving couple if you could?

both stephanie and i have husbands who travel a great deal, and there have been nights when we watch the amazing race and give each other phone commentary as it is happening. we tend to like the same teams, so no serious disagreements arise. it is a harmless, laughing time, a cyber slumber party.

stephanie's husband dale. i have a good story about him that i kept out of my birth story. you know they were the stoic friends that prayed for us and hugged charles while i was in surgery. they were also the friends who waited outside the NICU the first night i was wheeled in there and offered us prayer and support at that time as well. good friends.

and i knew dale was desperate to make me feel better. so the day the babies are born, in the evening right before i saw their pictures, i think i saw dale briefly. not looking my best, you understand. and dale, smiling and holding stephanie's hand, looks and me and smiles and says,

you know tess, when i first met you, i thought you were really good looking. you know, like in a way that a friend is good looking.

and i think i ran my hand through my knotted and sweaty hair, or a laugh/crying induced tear might have trailed down my face causing a divide in the mascara caked on my cheeks. and i might have said,

"and what about now, dale?"

and then we all laughed.

i watch the amazing race on television, and we live our own. and with each, stepahnie and dale are there, commenting, supporting and holding our hands as we race to the finish line, rest, pick up our bags, and start again in the morning.

their dynamite napoleon

one of sebastian's best friends is expecting a sibling in the next few weeks. the friend, who lunches here with his sister twice a week, examines the triplets carefully and kisses them as he is leaving goodbye.

whenever he starts paying a bit too much attention to the trio, sebastian steps in and says, not aggressively but as a reminder,

my babies.

and he and his friend go back to playing.

sebastian has declared the babies his own property since phuket.

i miss my babies.

we go home to my babies and mina and ita?

and statements about his babies are accompanied with him placing a hand to his chest.

this proprietary nature towards his siblings extends to his feelings towards them now that sela and carys (jasper doesn't really care, he smiles and watches) are grabbing toys that sebastian considers "his". he's doing a lot of grabbing away from the babies.

my babies are eating my purple car!

and most often times, one of them will be.

the babies continue to love sebastian, and even when he rips things out of their hands, follow him around.

and listening to them follow him around is exquisite. the chubby pat-pat pat-pat of their hands slapping against the wood, the pause when they're trying to turn a corner or lift themselves up to see what he is doing.

they laugh when he jumps. mum and i tried it, they don't laugh when we jump.

they laugh when he "falls" to the ground. they don't even wait for me to hit the floor.

of course it is irritating to him that they are shoving his precious toys (of course more precious when they are playing with them) in their mouths, and soon will be invading more of his space and life. but oh they love him. he makes their lives funnier, more interesting, he isn't their carer, he is their entertainer. watching him put on shoes evokes smiles from sela. i would love that sort of worship!

when i first got pregnant i wondered what i had done to sebastian. would triplets ruin our relationship with him? would he always feel like the odd man out?

that's one of the reasons they all share the same room. so it can't be a "them vs me" memory for him. they're all in this sibling stuff together. not the triplets and sebastian, but "just wait until i tell your father what you kids did" team. or, "i can't believe you all spent your money and bought me this." it doesn't matter that he isn't a triplet, it matters that they love him. in a special way, like they love each other.

for now, i hope the triplets assault on sebastian's toys and food is balanced with how he feels witnessing how much they love him. it might not prevent fights and grabbing today, but years down the road it might promote grabbing the phone and checking in, just to say hello.

what would bill murray do??

i loved the movie groundhog day. a classic.

this morning, by 8am, i wished i could crawl under the covers and relive the day again. i had made so many mistakes.

yesterday evening was a breakthrough....i was in bed trying to stay awake, as my seizures tend to start when i am awoken abruptly. why didn't i just go to sleep and stay there? because sebastian still needs to be woken up and taken to the bathroom in order to have "dry bobs" in the morning.

(sebastian calls his underpants "bobs" because his first "big boy pants" that we bribed him out of nappies with had bob the builder on them. to this day, even though his pants now have nemo plastered over them, they are bobs. his dad wears bobs. girls on the other hand, wear "knickahs".)

so i am re-reading a fabulous, incredible book, THE KITE CHASER. beautiful story. and suddenly my door opens, and sebastian appears. rubbing his eyes.

mummy, i need to do a wee-wee.

how great is this! he is now getting to the stage where he can wake up and recognise the wee-wee urge.

i hop up and we scamper off to the toilet. his bobs are a little bit damp, but he does a massive wee, and i give him a fresh pair of bobs, help him pull up the jammies, and then he is off to bed.

it is midnight, and i am so tired but cannot sleep. i remember checking the clock at 1.20 and thinking, this is ridiculous. i felt like going downstairs to where my neighbour has a gorgeous newborn girl, telling her to go to bed and looking after the baby.

but i did get to sleep.

woke up to hear carys singing. it is 6am. she has NO RIGHT to be up. after five minutes, she's angry. crying. i get up. shush and carry her to the playroom where we have a chat about house rule 1.1 - hours of operation. she grins at me and pushes a building block into her mouth.

our chat morphed into playing is interrupted by sebastian screaming. i run into his room, and something is wrong. he can't find one of his toys, and that is worth screaming hysterical tears over, if you are three. i wasn't aware of that. maybe i am not reading the three year old's rights and responsibilities contract.

so now jasper and sela are awake. and unhappy.

i lecture sebastian about NOT whining and speaking in a pleasant voice, tell him his father and i cannot understand whining and he needs to communicate clearly. because we want to hear what he is telling us and help him if something is wrong.

he gives me a hug, and i am just cozy with the girls on my lap, when sebastian walks into the room, trips over the rug and falls to his knees. i have seen sebastian do this many times, and most times he is running at full speed and crashing spectacularly. and he doesn't make a peep. he doesn't cry over spilt milk, this kid.

except now. the whinging! the relative calm is pierced with his moaning and wahhh-ing. i plop the girls down on their bottoms, and rush over to sebastian.

are you hurt? if not, you must stop whinging!

he's not hurt. but the whinging continues.

i go back the baby and commence  changing a bottom.

i am in my room and my duvet whispers to me: lie down for a minute.

i havent spent too much time with my duvet lately, so i agree.

and sebastian comes banging in the room.

i need to do a poopers!

i sit up and do as i have done for the last four days, i help him pull down his jammies, bobs and then tell him i will check on him in a few minutes. that he should call me when he's done.

but no, he dissolves on the floor again. screaming.

i am trembling i am so angry. i pick him up, place him none too gently on the toilet and tell him to call me when he is done and that he cannot continue the whinging.

then i go away, not because i have no desire to hear and smell my son doing his business, but because i seriously need to cool down. why today am i flying off the handle? i have had worse mornings than this.

i walk into the living room, assuming the site of my darling babies playing will give me serenity and renewed patience/energy. i am a hollow reed. i am a hollow reed.

a hollow reed who just was thrown up on, courtesy of the j.

ah well, i was still in my pajamas.

and then sebastian, wailing from the toilet.

he hasn't done a poo, he "cahn't". but as i waddle in, i serve as an instant laxative, because with a wave of odour, he accomplishes his goal.

i congratulate him (i am not entirely uncaring), and then give him a tissue.

wahhhhh. i cahnt.

sure you can. who do you want to wipe your bottom.

i know the answer, i just want to hear him say it.

you do it.

so we compromise, i help him. i am trying to wean him from the needing my assistance in this scatalogical area.

then i start getting him dressed and for some reason he's crying again. i think i had the audacity to put on his wife beater and then his long sleeved shirt instead of beater, trousers then shirt. no wonder he's crying.

finally, he was out the door, and gone. to school.

and i just wanted to pretend i, (and him, let's be fair) had not been so atrocious.

in groundhog day, bill murray kept reliving the same day. and the groundhog just never emerged.

on second thoughts, i don't want to be the bill murray character, i'd prefer to be puxatony phil, sleeping groundhog.

New pictures!!

This is Charles... just posted new pictures in the February photo album. Click now to see Jasper enjoying his first lolly pop!

thanks for the emails...i am fine. health seems to be okay.

some statistics to make you think i am a math and analytical type person:

new crawlers = 3 (or four...sebastian now seems to prefer to crawl around as well...how is that for peer pressure??)

scratches = 1...olivia gave carys a long overdue scratch on the hand yesterday

teeth = 2.... sela has her two bottom teeth.

blood drawing incidents = 2 ... all wee three members have drawn blood on their face recently. all resulting from crawling.

"HARD TO SAY BUT PROBABLY OPTIMISTIC" looking scans = 1....yes indeed. sela had her ultrasound yesterday and it looks good. you can definitely see the excess fluid on the brain, but never ONCE did anyone mention the word SHUNT. they were surprised that it hasn't reabsorbed itself, but all in all, it was good. they did say the next time the water level looks high in the fontanel area, to bring her in. so i will. 

grans in attendance = -1 . my mum is gone now, it was great to have her here. she was so helpful and loving. she didn't get to do much as i was lying in bed most of my days, but never complained once. she read. held, changed, chased, cuddled and loved babies. knitted. did everything the HOW TO BE A GRAN WHEN YOU DON"T LOOK OLD ENOUGH TO BE ONE handbook suggested. and she did it well. thank you mum.

last night sela decided that the gel in her head was causing her grief. we didn't give her a bath after her ultrasound, i figured i had wiped off most of the gel. but no, at 1am she is in her bed, scratching her head and whining. i picked her up and she continued scratching. took her into my room, and laid her down beside me. i started massaging her scalp. she sighed and pulled her thumb toward her and popped it in. little black lashes fluttered, then faltered. asleep.

scratchscratchscratch...scratchscratch...scratch............scratch....................scratch

victory. she was asleep. back to bed for sela ballerina.

i picked her up and back to her room we headed. the movement woke her up a little and she was awake-ish when i put her down. the hall light was on and i could see her eyes trying to focus on mine, her smile ready and a coo ready to gurgle out of her once she made contact. she removed her thumb and used her hand to brace herself and push her body forwards.

i know someone is out there. please identify yourself, i have a smile for you. we can play.

no, we can't.

she was motionless for a second, debating her options. she chose "Cute". started a conversation and moved to the side of the cot i was standing at. she was breathing against my hand, like i was a frozen windowpane, and if she would thaw my hand, she would thaw my heart and i would impuslively decide a midnight play was in order.

not gonna happen.

they're tiring, but i do love these one on one sessions. they make me laugh and see what characters the babies are developing and becoming.

after all, they're one year old.