Mummyhood

Two years ago was the year when EVERYBODY got married, all but me of course. I endured multiple "When is your turn?" questions long enough before I hit another stage in the game. Baby-time!! From the middle of last year until now, the same people who got hitched are having kids. They're either pregnant or enjoying/hating motherhood. After all, a baby come with tons of responsibilities.

I caught up with 2 young mums last Saturday. Both of them are first timers in the game and they gave me interesting insights into mummyhood. They're not entirely new to me, but somehow become more real when it's coming from people you know.

• ADULT CONVERSATION can be a struggle when you spend day in and day out with your baby. She actually has to make an effort to not get suck into baby talk. Babies are cute and amazing and adorable, but to have a conversation with other adults about the same thing over and over again does not show intelligence. It is kinda pathetic, but it's hard and you really have to be aware of yourself when you're doing it.
• TOO MUCH ATTENTION to your baby is not necessarily a good thing. You know when there's a cute (or sometimes just new...) baby in some family function and everybody just goes crazy over it? All of a sudden, you hear adults making incomprehensible sounds and behaving like 2 year olds. Babies know when they get attention; and they like it and boy! they can manipulative... They'll make these suckers give them what they want, and after all the frivolities are over, mummy has to reset discipline all over again.
• HAVING NO MAID is the best way to lose those extra preggers-pounds. Lack of sleep, plus taking care of the baby, plus housework, and being somebody's wife show on the body. Don't worry about diets, just don't give in to the great Filipino maid your neighbour has been rambling about. You'll look fabulous in no time!
• MOTHERHOOD is the most selfless thing any woman can do. These mummies complained about not being able to dry their hair properly; not being able to see their friends; not being able to travel too far because a coffee with a friend requires at least a bottle of milk, a bag of toys, and a pram. But at the end of the coffee, babies are amazing little creatures (especiallly if they're yours) and they're the biggest rewards you can ever have in your life.

These points don't mean that I'm into baby and mummyhood and feeling ready to settle down. Ugh! Far from it... I have enough mummy-friends (the non-Egyptian kind) to get a taste, but I'm still looking for my relationship drama, sleep overs, dates, girls-pick-up night and the likes. Yeah, I haven't had enough of them... lousy as they may be.

Reaching Out

Have you heard of the expat-blues syndrome? All expatriates experienced displacement, the roller coaster ride of fun and misery, alienation; a mixture of incorrect dosage of the above is more than potent. It started as a syndrome, then all of a sudden it's a condition.

One expat friend said to me, "You're busy with work, and you get comfortable with the small group of people you have and you don't really put effort into making friends. You hang out with the same people, most of them as foreign to the place as you are, and you just keep to what you know. Now you're all gone... and suddenly, I'm in the same place I was when I first came in this country. I thought I'm done with the blues." She shrugged and let out a long sigh.

Why is that the older we are the harder it is to make new friends? What is about adulthood that prevents us from connecting to other people? Imagine if reaching out to fulfill our need is already that difficult, what about reaching out to help other people? Is true that we lose our innocence as we add years to our lives; and therefore grow more distrust in the human race? Do we fight less for our need to connect with others, because we simply... can't be bothered?
Even if I don't think that I have the condition, I'm determined to shake off the expat-blues syndrome. I'm determined to actively pursuing a remedy.

Tonight, as I walked out of my building, my fingers dialled a number. A new acquaintance who turned out to be free for dinner. There we were; two strangers with little knowledge of each other trying to find a common ground. Tonight I learned that he has family responsibilities, younger siblings. I discovered that he would love to travel someday. I'm not sure what he learned about me, but hopefully he's interested in knowing the bits he didn't get to find out.

No more night like that night

It was that picture again. A shot of her smiling amidst the knick knacks of his work. The same setting where they met a long time ago. She was young, fresh and full of energy. She radiated a positive beam ready to take on the world. He was a little more jaded; lacks direction but somehow her warmth drawn him to her.

That was a long time ago.

They spoke about travels, about moving pictures of tomorrow, about tales of the young and old. She spoke of her passion. He told her about his nightmares. There was electricity in the air that kept them in their own bubble. It was the kind of buzz that kept you on your toes, where its strength charged your battery to keep on going. The moon watched this exchange of fear and love under its stare until the break of day.

That was a long time ago.

Sometimes their path would cross again, but there were no words like that night. It was as if the moment was then and they let it slipped. Words filled the insides of their whole being wanting to be expressed but time swallowed everything without giving them any chance. It was like being on the same narrow bridge with a separator and heavy traffic behind. It only pushed you to go forward. The only sign visible was the no stop sign, until there was nothing more left but silent stares of the moon as distance grew further and the other was out of sight.

On their own, they still whispered their dreams and desires to the night sky, but there were never enough words like that night.

There was no more night like that night.

To be Singaporean

One late night I took a cab home after a few drinks. It was the end of a long day and chatting with a taxi driver is the last thing you wanted to do. As if able to read my mind, the taxi driver started asking the usual questions: where I'm from, how long have I been in Singapore, what I'm doing in Singapore, etc. The taxi driver turned out to be a fellow countryman who has been living in Singapore for more than 20 years. He named a small city of Kendal, in Central Java as his hometown.

The conversation took a different point that point onwards. The below conversation was conducted in a mix of English and Indonesian. Or rather Indonesian spoken with a Malay accent, much like how the locals speak.

TD: Nona (yeah... nobody uses that word anymore these days), are you Chinese?
C: Yeah.
TD: Can you speak Chinese? What dialects?
C: None.
TD: How come? A chinese should be able to speak it. I am Malay, but I can speak Hokkien, Mandarin. I have very good friends who are Chinese. You know, if you want to get ahead in Singapore you have to make friends with the Chinese. I am Malay, but I hang out with the Chinese.
C: Just never learnt it.
TD: You're very pretty.
C: Thanks.
TD: I am Malay but I like Chinese girls. Many Singaporean chinese men go to Indonesia for girls, you know. They go to Batam. I also go to Batam. There are many different women in Batam. They keep mistresses from everywhere in Batam. I have a chinese girlfriend there, too.

My disinterest only kept him going more. It's aggravating to learn that his way to assimilate himself in Singapore is to join in all the 'festivities' all the other 'Singaporeans' do. There was pride that he could speak more dialects that I do; and that he's so well integrated that he gets it with the local Chinese ladies. And he's proud because???

I wonder if he is who he is (as he claimed to be) because he is a sleazebag, or because he's trying to fit in. Living in Singapore is easy enough, but living in all sense may not be as simple as it seems. When shopping is the national sport and everyone is obsessed with their image, one can not help to start feeling self-conscious. Am I not meeting new people because I'm not pretty enough? Am I too fat? To what extent would one compromise to be able to live in another country, in a new place? To be able to feel like they belong?

I will let you know in the near future.