The 2 most common remarks I get when people hear that I’m pregnant again is “you guys are very fertile!” and “you must really like kids!”

The fertile bit is probably true, and for that we’re incredibly grateful.

But the bit about really liking kids isn’t necessarily true all the time. To be precise, 87% of the time, I love being a mom. The other 13%…well, not so much. And the secret is to focus on the good parts so that when you feel like making lists of all the terrible things you want to do to the kids, you remember how much you actually love them.

Maybe all this excitement about having a new baby has been making me sentimental but here’s what being a mom is like for me.

It’s having icy-cold tiny toes dig at my shins in the middle of the night and feel both annoyed and comforted at the same time.

It’s getting unlimited baby kisses whenever I make up imaginary aches and pains.

It’s not having any money to spend on my own shopping because I spent it all on super cute baby clothes. But so worth it.

It’s feeling the softness of a tiny hand inside mine and not having to let go.

It’s arbitrating fights and then see them hug it out all lovey-dovey minutes later. And then see them fight all over again.

It’s being there for a snuggle the moment they wake up from their naps and peer at me with eyes that can barely open.

It’s sharing a slobbery ice-cream cone that’s melting all over my hands and not be grossed out.

It’s hearing them say “I LOVE YOU SOOOO MUCH” even if I first have to ask “do you love mommy” eleventy billion times.

It’s losing all my me-time and not really minding because all my happiest moments are spent with them anyway.

What’s your mommy moment?

Having a child makes you live life in extremes. It’s like getting on a terrifying roller coaster without a stop button. About half the time, you’re all “WOOT! This is the most awesome moment of my life” and then you’re all “Why did I do this? HELPPP I AM GOING TO DIE!!”

There’s really no in between. You don’t get on the Battlestar Galactica and twiddle your thumbs in boredom. You strap in tight and hope for the best.

On a side note, all this intensity is probably why parents just can’t shut up about their kids. Even when they look like they’re listening politely to what you’re saying, they’re just waiting for the next opportunity to cut in and tell you about the time their kid made an unidentified mass out of lego isn’t that so precious??

After you make a baby, all your interactions with them fall into 1 of 2 categories. My inner geek had to come up with a chart.

You’ve heard of the 80-20 rule. Behold the 55-45 rule.

When you’re a parent, you’ll know that there’s like a secret toddler contest to see who comes up with the most creative way to drive their parents insane and the winner gets to have street cred for being the most badass baby. Trust me, every kid is in on it. In that game, there’s only one rule: torment your parents for exactly 45% of the time, and after that, get your cute on.

The key lies in the 5%.

The truth is, having a kid changes you. You’ll probably never love anything as much as you love them. You used to love ice-cream or bags or shoes but you’ll gladly give it all up for them. You’ll do crazy stuff like fight off a rabid bear, or in my case, engage in a death match with a lizard for them. You’ll talk about them incessantly even when you know how annoying it is for everyone else. You’ll hold them in your arms after a bad day and suddenly feel like the world is beautiful again.

People ask me what’s the big deal about having kids. If it’s so hard and you have to give up so much, why do it?

It’s the experience. The most sublime joy I’ve ever felt. The rush of loving something more than I ever thought possible and knowing that they love me back just as much. Well, at least until they get married and have their own kids.

It’s the magic 5%.

I haven’t done lists in a while so today’s list will be on the things you can’t do once you pop a child.

Ok, that’s a bit of an overstatement. You can probably still do them once in a really long while when the stars align and unicorns shimmy to the tunes of “What a Wonderful World” outside your bedroom window.

But we all know these sorts of days are rare, to say the least. And if you’re expecting to do them with the regularity and panache that you used to pre-baby, you’re in for a rude awakening. Let’s jut say that after being a parent for 3 years, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to take a leisurely shower without being yelled at to “COME HERE NOW MOMMY!”

Here’s my list of things I can no longer do after having babies.

1. Eat ice cream without sharing. 

The husband and I have a rule. We share pretty much everything except Starbucks toffee nut latte and ice cream. Yes, we can share dreams and jokes and a bank account, but not ice cream. The kids, unfortunately, have no regard for my ice cream rule. They alternate between looking at it longingly with those bambi eyes and going “please, mommy, please, you need to share”.

And even when I sneak a spoon of ice cream hiding in the dark, they sniff it out and come running.

2. Be anywhere in 7 minutes. 

That’s how long it used to take me to get out of the house. – 7 minutes flat. That includes bathing, changing and basic make up. With kids, it’s a physical impossibility because their dictionary does not contain the 2 words “HURRY UP”. We need a lead time of at least 45 minutes, and even that’s cutting it close.

3. Buy anything without thinking in terms of how much milk, food and shoes it’s worth. 

I see a gorgeous pair of jeans and I immediately think of how many tins of milk that’s going to cost. A pair of G-Star is 5 tins, a pair of F21 is 3 tins and the tights from the market is 1/2 a tin.

4. Rain curses on horrible, horrible drivers. 

I have since watered down my elaborate curses to a very harmless “UNCLE/AH SOH, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? KNOW HOW TO DRIVE OR NOT??” Now every time I am forced to slam the brakes or swerve to avoid an accident, the kids throw out their hands and recite that line in unison and with much gusto.

5. Do the naughty naughty in the kitchen. Or the sofa. Or basically anywhere at all. 

These kids are like the sex police. One time, we thought we had some alone time for a quick kiss and Kirsten walked right up to us and asked “Mommy what are you doing? You cannot kiss, I want kiss!!” Truett, on the other hand, will just peer at us intently and that’s possibly even more disturbing.

6. Imagine my life without them. 

Ditto.

What’s in your list?

Update: The results the MLM giveaway are out! Congrats to Adeline, you’ve got a lovely new outfit coming your way!

This will be quick, I just needed to write this down. It’s going to part of a series I’m putting together so that when the kids start clawing each others’ eyes out the next round, I’ll read this to them while they cry tears of joy and group hug the life out of each other. I’m calling it the make-up kit (as in make up from a fight, not eyeliner).

All this while, we’ve been teaching Tru that his most important responsibility as the big brother was to look out for his sister and protect her, among others like not sit on her or use her as a trampoline. Even though Kirsten didn’t seem like the sort who needed protecting, we’ve always told Tru that he’s bigger and manlier, therefore equipped to perform his big brotherly duties.

It’s a hard lesson for him because he’s the sensitive soul who’s often overshadowed by his warrior princess sister. Up to this point, Kirsten has proven to be completely fearless. She’s unfazed by (imaginary) giant octopuses or scary-looking uncles and she’ll even offer to protect her brother. Thing is, while I’m sure that she’s got the zest to put up a good fight, she’s small enough to be overpowered rather swiftly.

During a difficult nap session yesterday, I had to physically restrain baby girl to prevent her from climbing everywhere. It basically involves me holding her down in a minute-long strangle hug which was firm enough to prevent motion but not tight to the point of asphyxiation. She yelled like a banshee but her efforts to escape were futile.

6 seconds in, Tru turned to me and said “Mommy, stop, don’t strap mei mei. You strap Truett, then Truett will hug mommy and sleep.”

I couldn’t be more proud.

The amazing thing about parenting is that I learn more from them than they learn from me. Sure, I teach them basic stuff like how to do the poopsie in the toilet and identify different flower species. But in return, they teach me far more important lessons like how to stop and smell those flowers.

Yesterday, we spent some time on the swing set downstairs during our usual playground session. I showed her how to close her eyes and throw back her head while in motion to feel like she was flying.

She practiced a few times, then beamed and said “I’m happy, mommy.”

Momma’s happy too, sweetheart.

This is a little late but Happy Mother’s Day! I would have done this sooner but I was too busy spending my Mother’s Day shark-watching with Truett in KLCC’s Aquarium.

Long story, I decided to tag along with the husband for a work trip to KL and that was how Tru got to go on his first trip out of the country. It was tough having to decide on which kid to bring because it’s like having to choose between my left and right kidney. They’re both mine and I like one just as much as the other.

But there are privileges to being the firstborn, I suppose. This is for all the times he had to suck it up and give in to his sister just because he was the big brother.

For a celebratory dinner, the boys took me to Bubba Gump for for some clam chowder and shrimpin’ dippin’ broth.

Tru was all “Mommy, you need to buy a cake so Truett can eat” and I tried telling him he got the order wrong. He was supposed to do the buying and I, the eating, but the idea of being near cake and not eating it is incomprehensible to him.

He did however see Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates and say “OH, I got a present for you!”

When he finally realized that this present wasn’t really a present he could give me, he improvised and raided the balloon basket to grab one for me.

FYI, most awesomest balloon ever.

On a totally unrelated note, I wrote this Mother’s Day piece for Citynews last week. It was such an honor to speak to these women who kick some serious butt at motherhood and I salute them all.

One of the perks of stay-home mothering is room for spontaneity, a quality often sacrificed in exchange for scheduled routines and regularity.

Yesterday though, was one of those days I decided to play the spontaneity card and be all “ok forget routine, let’s go do something fun just because we can.” Right after they got up from their naps, I told the kids we were going on a field trip to the airport. By bus. Just with mommy.

A year ago, I would have considered something like this to be a suicide mission and not to mention, a physical impossibility. I would have needed to carry 2 kids, a stroller and a diaper bag UP A BUS AND TRAIN. Now I’m not a public transport snob (even though I haven’t been on a bus for 2 years), but the thought of hauling 2 kids and half a mobile home up a bus seems ridiculous. I would have been the mother who dropped a kid while struggling to tap my EZ-link card with my teeth as the rest of the passengers gasped in horror.

Before we left the house, I gave them a pep talk to lay down some ground rules.

1. They were to carry their own bags so I could saunter freely along.

2. They were to hold my hands at all times.

3. No whining or tantrums or meltdowns.

Any violations would result in immediate termination and we would turn right back around, hop into a cab and head straight home (that was my back up plan for when something goes awry).

Long story short, it was a hugely successful field trip, one that will be remembered for all time as THE MOST AWESOME FIELD TRIP ALONE WITH MOMMY. They were on their best behavior the whole time, waiting patiently for the bus, sitting absolutely still on the train and following every instruction I gave (at one point, I made them do the Hot Potato dance just for my own entertainment). The journey to the airport took me an hour and a half and we enjoyed every moment of it.

So then that made me realize that I was guilty of being so destination-driven all the time. We talk about “enjoying the ride” like the overused catchphrase that it is without actually meaning it because the journey is so like meh, totally boring.

But for the kids, the journey was as much a highlight as the destination. Being on the bus and train was as enjoyable as being at the airport. So instead of stoning out and wishing the travelling wasn’t such a pain, I should just stop and enjoy the crap out of the journey.

Looking back at our recent Florida trip, some of the best moments we had was during the journey – waiting for the bus to arrive or being on the tram talking for hours. Sure, the destination was all kinds of fun but those long talks and bonding sessions, we had them on the go.

In short, remember to enjoy the journey, won’t you?

PS. I wanted to take some pictures but being alone on an adventure with both kids, I kind of had my hands full. You’ll just have to use your imagination.

It seems surreal that in about 12 hours, I’ll be on a plane to Florida for the Disney Social Media Moms Celebration. We’re not bringing the kids along this time so it’ll be the first time since they were born that we’ll be apart for 10 days. That’s 240 hours of not being able to snuggle in bed or smell the faint strawberry scent their freshly-washed hair or nibble on their cheeks. Something tells me that I’m not going to make it.

In short, I’m going into severe baby separation anxiety mode. 10 bucks says that I’ll bawl like a baby when I board the plane.

Also, I’m pretty sure these are the symptoms of extreme separation anxiety.

1. I’m becoming schizophrenic. I spent the last 24 hours alternating between “WHOOOO I’M LEAVING!” and “I CAN’T GO I MISS MY BABIES”, sometimes within the span of 5 seconds.

2. I have been squeezing the life out of both my kids. I’m trying to hug them extra to make up for the next 10 days, so they’ve practically been stuck to my hips all day. So much so that Truett is all “ENOUGH MOMMY” and Kirsten joins in with “don’t want mommy to hugggggg.”

3. Which is the point I sigh dramatically and say, “you guys will miss me when I’m gone.”

4. I’m considering stealing their precious duck and blankie for my trip so I can breathe in their smell and imagine they’re there with me. The only thing stopping me is the knowledge that my mom and in-laws will kill me for the 10 sleepless nights ahead of them.

5. I’m making soppy videos of my kids so I can watch them over and over again when I’m there. Like these.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D4jdjsB6Rwg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEAChqdXWC0

PS. I’ll post pictures when I’m there. Stay tuned.

For the first time in my life, I can say with all honesty that I actually love my job. It’s definitely the toughest – I wake up earlier, work longer hours, get yelled at indiscriminately, clean up crap all day and do a lot more for way less pay but I get to do this.

I get to take the kids to the beach in the middle of the afternoon and call it education. I get to dust off the sand from in between her toes and build sand slums (they look nothing like castles). I get to see the look on their faces that can best be described as utter bliss.

I whinge a little about how insane it gets from time to time but really, I’m thankful every single day that I get to do this.

Speaking of, my friend Theresa is working on this Great Woman Pledge to raise funds for the Breast Cancer Foundation. The best part is that you can help without even having to donate a cent, all you need to do is make a pledge and write why you think it’s great to be a woman. If you can’t think of any, you can steal some suggestions from her page or drop me a mail, I’d be happy to give you some ideas.

I’ve made my pledge, go make yours.