Is there no end to his talents?! I had a go myself by the way...
13 October 2010
Krusty the clown strikes again
I cooked dinner tonight while Krusty made some strange noises in the background. As I turned around, I found THIS on the table...
Is there no end to his talents?! I had a go myself by the way...
Is there no end to his talents?! I had a go myself by the way...
09 October 2010
Huggy bear
Today Oscar lay his head on my shoulder, put his arm around my neck and nuzzled his face there while cooing.
His first hug... Five months is officially the best age so far.
His first hug... Five months is officially the best age so far.
06 October 2010
Homegrown
As you know from my whining about how lovely the markets in France are, one of my main complaints about living in Hong Kong is the lack of quality, saliva-producing produce, and in fact the omnipresence of lacklustre, tasteless fruit and vegetables.
And so, in an effort to give my home a second chance, I am foregoing the supermarket for a while (where the tomatoes are hard, orange and taste of water) and am getting my veg delivered to my home.
Homegrown Hong Kong is, as the name suggests, a service that grows fruit, veg and herbs organically somewhere in the farmland near the border (yes, there is farmland in Hong Kong) and then delivers it straight to the door of lazy urbanites like myself.
My first box arrived yesterday, and already I'm loving it. The box, lined with a giant banana leaf, was full of intriguing ingredients such as yams and dragonfruit, and lots of green leaves that I have no clue what to do with. So not only will I eat fresh, but I'll be forced to cook different dishes, too.
I don't care that the home that this food is growing in is overcrowded and polluted, it's still home. And receiving a box full of amaranth (?!) makes it feel that much cosier.
And so, in an effort to give my home a second chance, I am foregoing the supermarket for a while (where the tomatoes are hard, orange and taste of water) and am getting my veg delivered to my home.
Homegrown Hong Kong is, as the name suggests, a service that grows fruit, veg and herbs organically somewhere in the farmland near the border (yes, there is farmland in Hong Kong) and then delivers it straight to the door of lazy urbanites like myself.
My first box arrived yesterday, and already I'm loving it. The box, lined with a giant banana leaf, was full of intriguing ingredients such as yams and dragonfruit, and lots of green leaves that I have no clue what to do with. So not only will I eat fresh, but I'll be forced to cook different dishes, too.
I don't care that the home that this food is growing in is overcrowded and polluted, it's still home. And receiving a box full of amaranth (?!) makes it feel that much cosier.
04 October 2010
Stats
OK, I have just found a section of my blog admin that tracks page views, traffic and so on.
Apparently, one of the most popular keyword searches that have led readers to me is: "my rat escaped and wound up in my bed."
Er... What?!
Apparently, one of the most popular keyword searches that have led readers to me is: "my rat escaped and wound up in my bed."
Er... What?!
Breaking the baby
Today I tried the "cry-to-sleep" method for the first time.
So far Oscar has been a star baby, doing everything we have asked him to and more. Buuuuttt he can't fall asleep on his own. Cut to us rocking him around the bedroom every night, all night since we got back from Europe.
And as if on cue, after a particularly bad night last night, this morning I got a helpful parenting newsletter explaining how to install a sleep routine, including leaving your baby to cry for longer and longer intervals until he learns to soothe himself to sleep.
Soothing had NOTHING to do with what I went through, though.
It took Oscar a whole TWO HOURS to finally settle, and in between I had to witness him squeal, scream, sweat and generally DEMAND to know why this was being inflicted on him. Every time I went in to reassure him that all would be well, he was drenched in sweat and tears and looked at me with such grief in his eyes, it was all I could do not to pick him up and kiss him better.
And then, like a tap turning off, on the second hour almost exactly he went from super squeal one second to fast asleep the next. As if nothing had happened. I ran in, thinking he had choked on his own tears, but no, there he was, snoring away like the cherub that he is.
So I survived, and hopefully he survived, and he won't be scarred for life. They say that it's harder on the parents and that he won't remember any of this anyway. But what if he is grumpy tomorrow, and forever after that? What if I have broken my lovely, smiley, happy baby?!
So far Oscar has been a star baby, doing everything we have asked him to and more. Buuuuttt he can't fall asleep on his own. Cut to us rocking him around the bedroom every night, all night since we got back from Europe.
And as if on cue, after a particularly bad night last night, this morning I got a helpful parenting newsletter explaining how to install a sleep routine, including leaving your baby to cry for longer and longer intervals until he learns to soothe himself to sleep.
Soothing had NOTHING to do with what I went through, though.
It took Oscar a whole TWO HOURS to finally settle, and in between I had to witness him squeal, scream, sweat and generally DEMAND to know why this was being inflicted on him. Every time I went in to reassure him that all would be well, he was drenched in sweat and tears and looked at me with such grief in his eyes, it was all I could do not to pick him up and kiss him better.
And then, like a tap turning off, on the second hour almost exactly he went from super squeal one second to fast asleep the next. As if nothing had happened. I ran in, thinking he had choked on his own tears, but no, there he was, snoring away like the cherub that he is.
So I survived, and hopefully he survived, and he won't be scarred for life. They say that it's harder on the parents and that he won't remember any of this anyway. But what if he is grumpy tomorrow, and forever after that? What if I have broken my lovely, smiley, happy baby?!
What Krusty found
Fine, it's not exactly a vision of Jesus weeping on a rock, but look what appeared on Krusty's plate at lunchtime...
28 September 2010
Honesty
If Oscar was popular in Europe, then in Hong Kong, where there aren't that many babies that look like him, he is a total superstar.
Hong Kong locals don't have their tongues in their pockets, and they have a habit of telling you exactly what they think without holding back. That's how, when in a shoe shop, a saleswoman literally laughed when she saw how big my foot is. That's why, when going through prenatal care, I became an obese alcoholic rather than a plump girl who enjoys a glass of wine...
But finally, thanks to my baby, I can enjoy the positive side of this honesty. I have not yet been outside without at least three people stopping to tell me how beautiful he is. One woman even passed me by and then ran back to take a second look.
Although yesterday I got a strange exchange when one shopkeeper asked me if he was a boy or a girl. I answered, "boy", to which she shook her head and said, "no, girl". I repeated boy, telling her I was pretty sure that I knew if my son was a son and not a daughter. To which she said, "no, he has girl eyes".
Hmmmmm...
Hong Kong locals don't have their tongues in their pockets, and they have a habit of telling you exactly what they think without holding back. That's how, when in a shoe shop, a saleswoman literally laughed when she saw how big my foot is. That's why, when going through prenatal care, I became an obese alcoholic rather than a plump girl who enjoys a glass of wine...
But finally, thanks to my baby, I can enjoy the positive side of this honesty. I have not yet been outside without at least three people stopping to tell me how beautiful he is. One woman even passed me by and then ran back to take a second look.
Although yesterday I got a strange exchange when one shopkeeper asked me if he was a boy or a girl. I answered, "boy", to which she shook her head and said, "no, girl". I repeated boy, telling her I was pretty sure that I knew if my son was a son and not a daughter. To which she said, "no, he has girl eyes".
Hmmmmm...
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