Hello from Singapore!

We are currently stuck in a hotel in Singapore. Dear Hubby's just had his corrective spinal op and has been ordered to remain in Singapore until this Friday to recuperate. He was quite groggy and definitely not himself over the weekend but he seems to have bounced back today. We'll see the doctor tomorrow for his first follow-up check and hope to get the okay to fly back to Jakarta on Friday.

I've been taking Connor out for trips so that Dear Hubby gets time off to himself to rest. Connor is starting to figure out how to crawl and has been practising enthusiastically everywhere he can. So he's become an absolute handful in the hotel room and too much for Dear Hubby to handle. Connor's figured out some time ago that crawling involved getting up on all fours. But he didn't know what the next step was and would rock back and forth on all fours and wail for help. Now he's figured out that a push from his legs would propel him forward but it would make him land splat face-first into the rug. So he's trying to work out the arms bit but he's not quite there yet.

This is a vid of our boy taken a few days ago as he practised on our bed in the hotel room. I usually don't let him do his crawl stunts on the bed as there's a danger he might just push a little too hard and send himself tumbling over but I was watching closely this time and I know just how much he's capable of at this moment.

It made Dear Hubby and I laugh. Think it'll beat Susan Boyle for Britain's Got Talent? ;)

I'm so hurt... *sniffles* Hee...

I was hurt so heart-deep yesterday. *sniff, sniff*

Our car, which has been sitting idle here in KL for a month, wouldn't start. So I got a mechanic to come in and jump-start the car. After driving it around for a bit, I parked it and switched the engine off. When I tried re-starting the car, it still wouldn't start and I knew it was time to change the car battery.

So I got the same mechanic to change the battery. As he worked, I stood nearby cradling Connor in my arms. The mechanic paused in his work to look at my little boy. "Your son very cute hor," he commented. I beamed with pride and was about to thank him for his lovely comment when he continued, "Must be it's his father who's very handsome hor?"

OUCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

:))

Hillsborough 20th anniversary: RIP our 96

20 years ago yesterday, 24,000 Liverpool fans set out to watch their team play vs Notts Forest in Hillsborough. 96 of them never came home, crushed to death in the stands. I've seen the TV broadcast of those moments when fans were screaming for help, climbing over fences to escape being crushed, being pulled up to the higher stands by other fans and the police formed a line across the halfway line of the pitch and stood there doing nothing. The official report later blamed the police for not controlling the situation properly.

Yet UK newspapers and the South Yorkshire police would report that it was the work of drunken fans which caused it. Some newspapers even reported that Liverpool fans stole from the dead and the dying lying on makeshift stretchers on the pitch.

I can only imagine the hurt the families of the 96 must have gone through. And on top of that, instead of hearing an apology and seeing those accountable for that disaster take responsibility and man up, they heard their lost ones being blamed instead for causing their own deaths. There is still no official apology 20 years on nor has any of those named as responsible in the govt report been prosecuted.

Some good has come out of it though. Because of the disaster, the design of stands in football stadiums across UK were reviewed and made safer. No more standing at matches. No more fences penning the fans in like a herd of sheep. All seaters now.

This is the site set up to campaign for justice for the 96: Hillsborough Justice Campaign Have a look if you'd like to read more about the campaign and the story behind the disaster.

The official Liverpool FC site put up a heart-breaking tribute to the 96. It featured letters written from the families to their lost ones, 20 years on. It's called Letters from the Heart and you can read Part I here.

Maybe one day, my little Connor's going to troop off to Anfield with his club jersey on and the club scarf round his neck, absolutely excited he's going to see his beloved team play (and win!) and think about how he's going to celebrate the win later in the pub with his mates. All of our 96 thought the same, I'm sure. Only they never got to the match. Or the pub. They all ended up as names on a memorial outside Anfield.

RIP 96... you'll never walk alone.

My son is a teapot!

I'm a little teapot, short and stout

Here is my handle and here is my spout

When the kettle's boiling, hear me shout

Tip me over and pour me out!

(My little Connor Xian, aged 5 months and sitting on Daddy's lap)

Scenes from a Married (and Harried) Life: Packing for KL

We are flying to KL tomorrow. This afternoon, I take out my now duct-taped red suitcase to pack while Connor is napping. And guess what?

Yep. I can't open it because the combination doesn't work. Neither do the keys. The tiny ones on a red keyring marked "Room No. 7". So I call Dear Hubby and he assures me he can unlock it.

It is 830pm. He is upstairs with his entire toolbox to try and unlock my case.

Maybe I should just go buy a new case...

It's either that or marry a new guy.

Scenes from a Married (and Harried) Life: Packing to come home to Jakarta

It is 10am in Liverpool and we are due to fly back to Jakarta the next morning at 9am. I've packed the bag which Connor and I share and have left some space for my toiletries and some other goodies we're going to buy later in the day to bring home.

Now, this suitcase I use has a lock that pops open. So we've resorted to using the key to lock it instead of the combination. I can't remember if we did lock it (with a key) this time since we made use of the bag-wrapping service at Soekarno-Hatta... you know where the guys wrap your bag up in clingwrap-y stuff so that no one can prise your bags open, key or no key?

Anyway.... Dear Hubby comes running up the stairs. "I can't find the suitcase key. We gotta find it or we can't lock the case!" Sigh. This is getting too damn familiar. "No, I did put it here! I put it here so that it would be safe and now it's missing!"

So we all look for the key. A really tiny suitcase key. Together with other tiny suitcase keys on a red keyring that says "Room No. 7". Drawers are pulled out, containers are emptied, we get on our hands and knees checking the carpet. Nothing. Finally, my brother-in-law makes a suggestion, "Why don't we just tape the case shut... you know, use the duct tape and go round the case?" Brilliant idea. Problem solved. I go downstairs to play with Connor.

When I come back up later, the two men are frantically pressing buttons on my suitcase. "What is it?" I ask. Dear Hubby looks up. "Well... I can't open the case." "What? What did you do?" "Well, we tried to re-set the combination lock to try and lock the case since we don't have the key... and we er.. locked it and now the combination doesn't work."

Boy. I could have exploded there and then. But I knew Dear Hubby was feeling bad enough already so I swallowed my temper. Bro-in-law had quietly and hurriedly sneaked away from Scene of an Impending Domestic Quarrel... smart fella!

The next day, we arrive at Manchester Airport with a roll of black duct tape and sans goodies I'd wanted to get but couldn't since we couldn't open up my case again. Dear Hubby tapes all the locks up in case they pop open and I know he'll have to break open the case later to get our clothes out. What a waste of an otherwise good case.

Some 20 hours and thousands of miles later, we open the front door to our home in Jakarta and what's on the dining table? A bunch of tiny suitcase keys on a red keyring that says "Room No. 7". Dear Hubby splutters in amazement, "But... but... I *did* bring the keys! I unlocked the case with them!"

I'm really too tired to argue.

Scenes from a Married (and Harried) Life: Packing to go to UK

It is 4pm the day before we are to fly to the UK. Dear Hubby starts scrabbling frantically in the safe before his head pops up and he announces, "I can't find my driver's license." Oops. We need it because he'll be driving in the UK. He'd left it at home for safekeeping because he doesn't drive anymore in Jakarta. The problem is it's not where he thinks he's left it.

He checks through the safe once more while I go upstairs and rummage through every drawer in our bedroom. Nada. Eventually he locates his old paper UK license and sighs, "Well, this will have to do... and I'll just have to not get stopped." Pause. "And I can't find my UK credit cards too... all I have are these debit cards from the UK."

At about 8pm, he asks me, "Babe... are our tax cards with you?" See... Indon residents have to pay an exit tax each time we fly out. It's now Rp2.5 million per person (approx RM750+) unless you can show your card proving you're a taxpayer/dependent on a taxpayer. Children <12yo are exempted from this. On our last trip to KL, I'd kept the tax cards. Upon our return, Dear Hubby had insisted he would keep the tax cards. So... why is he asking me this now?

It can only mean... "Erm.. so where are the tax cards?"

I bite back the 1,001 things I would have liked to say to him at the moment and trudge off wearily to check the safe again. But before that, I sat down at our study desk to clear my head. Upon a whim, I pull open the desk drawer and I spy with my little eye a wallet. It's the sort of wallet that people buy to keep their cards in. I open it and guess what's inside?

Yep. His driver's license. Our tax cards. His UK credit cards. All tucked neatly into the wallet. The wallet he'd bought to keep his cards in. How ironic.

Sometimes I wonder if this is the very same man that his company entrusts to manage the Indonesian operations...

Connor in UK and Jakarta

Taken today. I think this can be a good advert for Pigeon Baby Wipes. If anyone from Pigeon Corp is reading this, please contact me and pay up his appearance fee. :))

Anfield's latest signing on his first day of training. "Pass and move, lad... pass and move!"

With his Nana in Liverpool. Nana adored her youngest grandchild and showered him with lots of love and kisses while we were there.

His Kop "baptism". From now on, my son will never walk alone.

"Night fever, night fever... we know how to do it!" Connor in Liverpool... do we all live in a erm.. yellow baby bath?

Mommy Fix-it Ep 1: How to shower in peace

Connor, imprisoned in his baby bath so that Mommy can take a shower (age 5 months)

How to shower in peace without your baby rolling under bathroom cabinets:
1. Line baby bath with rugs and cushion
2. Put baby in
3. Add toy for some amusement
4. Take photo with phone
5. Shower

Reminder to self: *Must* cut baby's hair soon!

My nightmare week

What's worse than a sick baby? A sick baby who's jet-lagged.

We've never had much problems with Connor up till now. He'd settled himself into his little routine and would always nod off at 830pm and sleep through till maybe 3am. He'd then wake for a feed and settle back immediately and snooze on till 6am. In the day, he'd promptly settle down for a nap at 1pm and sleep in one-hour blocks till probably 4pm.

But upon our return from the UK, it was all very different. He'd caught a cold while we were in Scotland, so he would wake up frequently in the night crying because his nose was all clogged up. I tried everything - saline drops in the nose, sucking the mucus out, vapour rubs, elevating his head - none really worked. Poor baby would wake up with a runny nose but it's eased off now. He's still not 100% well so I've kept him away from other babies.

The jet lag meant he was up at odd hours of the night, fussing and wanting to play. ARGH. During the day, he was cranky and refused to be put down for even one second. I'd offered him all sorts of different toys and distractions but no go. All he wanted was for mummy to carry him and walk around and around. I can't do that for hours on end!

Just when he's finally showing signs of settling back into his routine, guess what? We have to be flying off again. Dear Hubby's been told he's got to have his back operated on next week in Sing to correct a spinal disc problem so that's us packing up again and hopping onto a plane.

Can someone remind me why I wanted a baby in the first place? Thank you.