Archive | November 2011

Sexual Position of the Week – Lesson 2

This weeks Sexual Position is The “pleasuring her with my Mouskatool” pose.

Kindly note this pose will only work if you have (a) bendy joints, (b) do lots of Pilates (like me!) or (c) have been drinking shit loads and therefore lost all feeling in your body.

Again, outfits are optional.

Satan at it again…

Someone shoot me now…or lead me to a bar so I can drink until its dry.  Shit…I’m pregnant!!  Ignore my last comment until February.

So, this week, my 21 month old son, AKA. Satan, is at it again. Screaming, crying, spitting his food out, throwing toys, bullying his twin sister, banging on the walls when he’s been put in his cot for time-out and today, he not only threw but then kicked his favourite toy car breaking a wheel off in the process.  It was at this point that I was soo frustrated that I bit my lip really really hard (so as not to slap him!) and its now blue and black in colour (that’s how hard I bit it).

Despite sharing a womb with his twin sister (although separate amniotic sacs/placenta etc), he’s totally different (she’s nice for a start!). Where she’s kind to everyone, friendly and incredibly talkative, hitting every milestone required…he’s becoming worse and worse, not to mention more jealous of her as a result.  I want to split them up at nursery so they can both grow.  PLUS, my son gets waaay more attention than my daughter in any event, due to his despicable behaviour.  We have tried everything from ignoring him to time-outs (which I will pursue) and although he’s better behaved when I’m around, the minute I walk out the room, he’s back to being his new brattish self.

As of today we discovered Satan can now climb out of his cot.  Great. Just fucking great.  The one place we knew we could keep him safe while he was having his meltdown, is now something new for him to climb out of.

On top of that, The Captain is driving me insane.  He has a habit of making huge sweeping statements that make my blood boil ie. “What you will be doing once the Baby comes and we have another Domestic Helper in the house?”  Errrr…. what the fuck??  Just because we have another Helper to help with the kids doesn’t mean anything.  People with Twins in Hong Kong know that most schools, playrooms etc wont allow any child under the age of 2/3 go to anything without ONE ADULT PER CHILD.  This means that, to date, I am one of the only Mums (among a sea of Filipino Helpers) attending all the school/playgroup stuff.

Now we have finally hired someone to join us next year to help ferry the twins back and forth from school etc, I will be stuck in-doors (again) with a newborn baby.  The Captain stating “Soooo….what will you do then when there’s 2 nannies around?” made me want to reach for his ball-sack and pull it as hard as possible!

I mean, what does a newborn baby entail?  Hmmm…. let me think for a minute.  Feeding every 3 hours, no sleep, constant puking, shitty diapers, making up endless bottles of milk, sterilizing, washing and changing about a 100 times a day as poo or sick has got on baby-gros/muslins/bibs bla friggin bla.  Not to mention your hormones are going nuts and (if they have already been fucked while pregnant) will be a zillion times worse once baby comes to not only deprive you of sleep, but you will want to harm your Husband for making such undeniably insensitive comments.

I’m lucky to get a full nights sleep now with twin toddlers and ONE nanny in the house (our current “Nanny” by the way, can’t cook fuck all, bleaches all our clothes, ruins all the furniture and forgets to lock our doors/turn the gas off).  Sure, having two people here to “Help” will ease the burden with our twins but that doesn’t mean I will be handing my newborn over to Helper A who doesn’t have the ability to move quickly on her feet at the best of times.  Nor will I hand Baby over to new Helper B, who hasn’t even started with us yet and nor has she never looked after a newborn child.

Yes…. dear Captain, my life will be soooo easy with our newborn as I’ll be sat here, sipping Cosmos and topping up my suntan while our Satan Son runs amok, our daughter is being bullied senseless by him and the newborn baby (who we will have to watch constantly due to Satan’s reaction to girls) is being fed contaminated Milk as Helper A can’t wash a fucking dish properly let alone a million bottles (I currently re-wash everything and have explained a thousand times you need to wash-up with HOT WATER!!!).

Yes, I cant wait to have not one, but two women in my home doing my head in daily, just so I can have help with our kids.  Ungrateful?  Me?  Tell someone who gives a shit.  I’m all done with apologies here.  Oh, AND The Captain wants a dog.  I told him to go fuck himself, with a pencil sharpener.  What is it I do all day?  Well  apparently I sit on my ever-expanding pregnant arse, eating chocolate and watching E! Hollywood.

Bring on baby number 3 please…. then a plane ticket back to London.  I’m soo over Hong Kong.

ps. On a separate note, the family and I went on an excursion to Hong Kong’s Disney Land for the first time since moving here.  Look what some die-hard Disney fan had piled high in their car …. weirdo.

Sexual position of the week – Lesson 1

I’ve decided to do a weekly post on Sexual Positions for all of you wanting to add some spice to your lives.  I’ll work my way through the Kama Sutra using, Mickey & Minnie Mouse, considered sacrilege by my Daughter whose a HUGE fan of the Mouses…but not to worry, I used Milton Wipes to clean them after.  Outfits are optional.

I don’t think step-by-step instructions will be necessary but feel free to email if you need anything explained.

The “I’m pleasuring him with my nose” pose. 

Naughty toddlers….

So my 20 month old twins have gradually turned into little personalities, with my Daughter (no, not my favourite contrary to popular belief, but great for entertainment value), is considered the bright, funny one (takes after me clearly) and my Son (AKA. Satan), is the naughty one who doesn’t pay attention to anything (takes after his Father).  My dilemma with these two began a few weeks ago when my Son started bullying his twin Sister (whos very gentle and walks around kissing and hugging everyone… adorable really, even if I am bias).  His bullying can vary from pushing her, to biting, shoving, taking all her toys (only to throw them aside the minute he takes them) and basically watching what she does all the time.  They both have his n hers tricycles and instead of just using his one, he has insisted on taking hers (which is pink) and not letting her even get on the damn thing.

He also tries to take her now adopted Blue one and has been seen hiding both just so she can’t play with them.  My daughter, bless her, even asks him if she can “sit” on the bike, patting the seat to see if her brother will say yes.  His normal response is a lot of tears followed by a tantrum, by which point she can’t be bothered with all the drama and walks off.   If she doesn’t like something, he will copy her. If she laughs, he laughs.  OMG…the frustration of not being able to leave them alone for a second in case he hurts her is driving me insane.

Plus, his behaviour at nursery has taken a turn for the worse.  For those of you who have experienced the joys of expensive Play-groups (also the Devils work in my opinion) run at your local school or nursery, will know how the morning pans out. First, theres about 15 minutes for “free play” (ie. play with whatever toy they have there & normally includes a fight between a couple of 17 month olds at some point), followed by arts, crafts, story telling, snacks and music.  If I wasn’t pregnant, I swear I would have my nifty hip flask, filled to the brim with straight Vodka, hidden inside my skinny jeans…just to get through it all.  Now my Son, recently re-named Satan for his charming antics at school, has been seen kicking & screaming (yes, me with my big pregnant belly & him look a right pair) as I’ve carried him down the school hallway, because he wont share a particular Toy Car which has become the bain of my life.  Whenever I turn up for these damn play-groups, I see that green plastic car, that is big enough to fit a toddler in, and he makes a beeline for it.  Once he’s sat inside that thing, NO ONE can get him out without a huge show of tears, screaming and hitting.  He wont share it with any of the other kids and if he climbs out, only to see another child approach it, he runs right back to it and jumps in! When you try to get him out for “floor time” with the Teacher, he has what I can only describe as an emotional breakdown ….plus you can feel all the parents eyes on this little display, thinking, “hmmmm…. that poor cow”, while they smile sympathetically over at me.

Later that same day, while having his compulsory Gina Ford lunchtime nap… I was alerted to him shouting non stop from his cot.  When I walked into his bedroom, what did I witness?  My Son, Satan/I Houdini, had managed to not only get out of his zip up sleeping bag with has popper on the side (he has a habit of climbing out of his old ones so this was one of the stronger ones), and had taken his shitty nappy off, smearing it all over the cot, himself, the walls and pillow, Cuski etc etc etc.  I think I let out something along the lines of “HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!” , then shouting to out Helper to get her arse into our room to witness Hell.  I then handed her my ,now covered in shit son, while I dealt with the sheets…. if I was near him at this point, I think I would have lost it, so while she gave him a hose down, prison-style, I cleaned up his bedroom (gagging at the stench). What did I do that night and every nap time since this episode?  I sellotaped that cheeky monkeys nappy on.  Yes, that right…. I wrapped it round him about 3 times, not tightly of course, just strong enough for him not to rip the damn thing off again.

So, as of last week, I have started reading, not one but three books on how to basically kick your toddlers arse without physically doing it.  Trust me…. the last few times at school, I have carried that boy out with gritted teeth praying I don’t lose my cool and just hand him to someones mother asking her to take him home before I go fucking insane.  As parents are we even allowed to say that about our sometimes annoying little angels?   Therefore, after a few sample tries of books on my trusty Kindle (love that device… fucking genius if like me you read a shit load at night when the whole family are finally asleep), I found a couple I liked.  One book which has the hardline, no bull-shit approach I particularly love, talks about the whole “Time-out” thing.  You know, basically putting your kid in a cot, on a naughty step, or wherever that works, without any toys etc until they stop being little ungrateful punks.

Sooo…. for the past week, my mission has been to break this boys spirit and get him to (a) stop  villainizing his poor sister, (b) stop showing me up at friggin nursery school & upsetting all kids around him in the process, and (c) to learn to share toys (damn it!!).  Today was our first trial run at school, and aside for a couple of moments at the start of the morning (ie, when we first walked into the play-room and both of us clocked that damn Green car), it went ok.  What did I do?  Well, first of all, he can’t put his foot in that car from the moment we arrive because that causes all the crap to begin with.  As we arrived at school early today, I was tempted to run ahead of him, his sister & our Helper (thk fk for her being there) just to cover that damn car in a blanket (or anything I could find) just so he wouldnt see it.  But then I thought, no way.  This boys gonna learn whose the boss (FYI. ME) and plus, its not fair hiding it from the other kids.  He’s gotta learn right?  Plus, me running at this stage in my pregnancy would have looked like a poor imitation Santa Claus going for his morning jog (I was wearing red today … minus the white beard).  Apart from him screaming to high heaven when he realised that his bitch of a mum wasn’t letting him get in his favourite toy car (he lay on the floor screaming), I literally carried him over to the toys on the other side of the room and told him “its this, or your cot. Chose now”.  He stopped crying IMMEDIATELY.  So….the little git does understand me when he wants to.  Thats 15-love to me.  We’ll see who wins this match in the end (I suspect it’ll be him in the long run).

My words of wisdom on how to deal with “strong-willed” toddlers so far is this …. give them one warning and then put them in time-out, for anything from hitting, to screaming for nothing.  Show them that sort of behaviour is not acceptable (until they get to my age in any event).  Every cause has an effect, bla bla bla.  OR, just drink your way through it.  If you’re drunk… you wont even care, thats what nannies are for afterall right?

I’ll see how things pan out at our next group session on Wednesday.  I have to admit I’m dreading it….and not just because the Teacher has a moustache I can’t stop staring at.

ps. I can’t believe the stores are starting to sell Christmas stuff already!?  Where’s the year gone?!

* Top photo taken from the site http://www.laughitout.com/2009/02/parenting-not-for-everyone.html

Easy Spinach, peas & cheese Macaroni … perfect for your toddlers

Level of cooking:

This is sooooo easy. You will only fail if you are not able to (a) read packet instructions on the back of pasta, or (b) you’re a total idiot.  I mainly use Organic for this, simply because my toddlers eat this more than we do.  I started adding Spinach & peas to the kids cheese macaroni as they simply would not eat their greens any other way.

Ingredients:

  • Pasta 500g (or 250g if you have a smaller family) – I use an Organic mutli-coloured Penne or the Twists (you know the green, brown & white pasta combined).
  • Unsalted butter – 50g.
  • Olive Oil – 1x tablespoon.
  • Bread-crumbs – 3 tablespoons.
  • Parmesan cheese – 100g grated.
  • Onion – 1x large onion choped & diced.
  • Garlic – 4 cloves finely chopped & diced.
  • Spinach 400g – I use the organic frozen type that comes in little round balls you can simply take out what you need & return the rest to the freezer.  Its also just as good as fresh Spinach & a LOT less fuss to cook.
  • Peas 350g – again I use the frozen variety available in any supermarket.  ** You can substitute the peas for broccoli (I do this sometimes to make sure the kids get their veggies).
  • Cheese 450g – mild chedder cheese, grated.
  • 3-4 tablespoons ground nutmeg.
  • 2 tablespoons parsley.
  • 3 tablespoons Honey Dijon Mustard.
  • 250 mls full fat milk.
  • 250 mls double cream.
  • Salt & Pepper.
How to cook:
  • Cook the pasta according to the packet instructions and then put aside.  Be sure to add some salt (not too much as its for your toddlers) and olive oil to the water before putting the pasta in the boiling water to cook.  Once cooked, leave in a colander to drain and make the sauce.
  • Now for the sauce, start by frying the chopped onions and garlic in a large, deep saucepan with approx. 50 grams butter and a tablespoon of olive oil (I tend to reuse the one I just cooked the pasta in to save washing-up).
  • Once the onions have turned golden, add the spinach & peas and cook for approx. 5-8 minutes or until they have melted and are cooking.
  • Then turn the heat to low, add the milk, cream & Dijon Mustard and stir everything well.
  • Take the sauce OFF the hob now and puree with a handheld blender until its smooth but not watery.  This makes the sauce creamy and ensures the spinach, peas, onions and garlic are smooth (to ensure your kids eat the damn stuff!).
  • Once everything is pureed,  place the sauce back on the hob, on a low heat, and add your grated cheese, ground nutmeg, parsley and seasoning (not too much salt & pepper though as its for the kids but you can add more to your own portions after).
  • Let this cook on low until all the cheese has melted.  If its too stringy or sticky due to the cheese melting, add more milk (or cream if you want to be naughty… I personally add cream as the calories are fine for my 20 month old toddlers at the moment).  While this is cooking, put your oven on to 170 degrees and get a large baking dish ready (just leave on the side until you need to use it).
  • Now take the sauce off the hob and add your strained pasta which has been sat patiently in a colander.  * Hopefully you have thought to give the pasta a shake every so often while you’ve been cooking so it doesn’t all stick together in a mass lump when you pour it into your sauce.
  • Mix all the pasta with the pureed cheese, spinach and peas sauce, then pour all of it into your baking dish (something large enough to hold everything obviously).
  • Mix the bread-crumbs and Parmesan cheese together and sprinkle on TOP of the pasta which is now sat in your baking dish.  I also like to sprinkle a little ground nutmeg on top of all of this as it tastes delicious.
  • Place the dish into the middle tray of the oven for approx. 10-15 minutes, or until the top of the pasta starts to turn brown but not burn.  If it’s already looking like its about to burn after 5 minutes, loosely place some foil on top of the pasta and continue to cook for an extra 10 minutes.
* The photos included show the pasta bake after its come out of the oven and had a chunk already taken out of it (my Husband is a greedy git & got to the food before I could take a photo).  You can see how the inside has a gorgeous, cheesy/veggie sauce, while the top has a slightly crunchy bread-crumb & Parmesan crust.  Yes, yes…. I’m a friggin genius. Thank me when your kids start eating their veg!
* NB.  You DO NOT have to bake this pasta in the oven once it’s cooked on the hob.  You can simply make the pasta and sauce as stated in detail above, then serve without going into the oven and without adding the topping.  This is much quicker if you only have 15 minutes to make the kids dinner.  This pasta can last up to 3 days in the fridge.

Getting fat…

So for those of you who have experienced the joys of being pregnant, you may recall watching in sheer horror when you got on those bathroom scales, and noted you were officially a FAT COW.  Now, for someone like me, who I have to admit, is slightly obsessed with staying thin after gaining 14 pounds in their FIRST year of University (trust me…. it was not a pretty sight when I’m only 5 ft 3 & usually a size 6-8 UK).  The fear of gaining any weight since I shifted it all, is always there.  I worked out (in between visits to a pub/bar/lunch with an alcoholic friend), I watched what I ate and if necessary, I didn’t eat and simply drank (yes, yes…shoot me).

Ask any fat person whose lost weight and is determined to keep it off what their fear is and they will say you just can’t let it creep back because before you know it, you’re doing midnight runs to MacDonald’s (or any open Petrol station) to get a junk food fix.  I do have to admit my incredible weight gain at University was not because I was about to star in the next Bridget Jones movie, but due to copious amounts of  smoking skunk (oh go judge elsewhere if you’re going to turn your nose up at this now as I LOVE SKUNK, or loved… not had it for a v v v long time now), which was followed by the munchies (usually Chinese takeaway or a greasy Kebab at 3am), and an INCREDIBLE amount of beer.  I actually thought I was one of the guys.  In fact, I still do but as I now have a sensible Husband to keep me in check, this side of my personality gets cut short very quickly when he sees me even attempting to join a drinking competition at any party/bar/pub/wedding.  I just can’t help myself… especially when there’s Vodka, Wine or Champagne.  He just knows I’m like a moth to a flame and tries to steer me away from any potential scenes later that may include dancing on a bar (Coyote Ugly style), getting into a street fight or falling in my 6 inch YSL’s that I only wear on very special occasions.

Therefore when this pregnancy began, I initially walked around all smug (ok, and depressed because I was missing white wine) as I had barely gained any weight and in fact, no one noticed I was pregnant (at first).  Well, fast forward 6.5 months (YES IM ALMOST THERE!!!) and I suddenly felt my arse jiggle as I walked to the shops to buy some ice cream yesterday (it wasn’t for me honest).  ARSE JIGGLE?! What the hell is next?!?!  Turkey chin?  Bingo wings?When I gain weight, my face starts to fill out first and I HATE it, simply because I look like I’ve stuffed 2 ping-pong balls into my mouth and grown an extra tire around my neck, Kimora Lee Simmons stylie (I love her so that’s not me being mean, but I feel like I’ve developed that horrid “sausage neck” effect).  Plus, as the Twins are only now 20 months old, they still don’t seem to get what the hell is going on with Mummy.  I mean…. I’ve gone from being Yummy to Fatty and they havent even batted an eyelash.  Does this mean that (a) There’s something wrong with them? in which case, I’m going to have to start looking for a Specialist pediatrician, or (b) Is this what they mean by “unconditional love”, that they havent even noticed that Mummy has turned into a fat cow?

During all my moaning, where has The Captain been? Well, lucky for him, he’s had loads of travelling to do which means, I’ve been able to sleep in the middle of our bed, with the air con on while it is now considered “winter time in Hong Kong” (this is Summer time in London) and I’m not trying to hammer his ballsack to the wall every time he speaks.  I appreciate that pregnancy hormones make women crazy but I think his lack of “doting” on me this time round (I mean, ok, I’ve had twins so this really should be a breeze…plus its Baby No. 3 so get over it already) but I expected him to be a little more…. I dunno….. pandering to my every whim maybe?  

When that doesn’t happen, I now just beat him verbally/emotionally until I burst into tears screaming “I JUST CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!” while he stands there, in disbelief, unsure what I’m actually talking about.  He just thinks I’ve lost the plot and keeps saying “You were nothing like this last time you were pregnant!?”  which winds me up even more. I mean, purrrrlease!! Last time was planned and clearly controlled with a number of IVF drugs!!  This time was not only a huge shock (we can’t recall when the deed happened but are sure it involved Vodka Jelly shots) but I’ve got toddlers running around (one of which head butted me yesterday right in the middle of my tummy while attempting a hug) and I can’t bloody sleep even if I wanted to.  I was expecting to spend afternoons leisurely watching “E Hollywood” and all the crappy TV one can find (seriously HK has SHIT TV) and yet, nope… none of that’s happening.  I don’t even know what’s happening with The Kardashians for christs sake!!!?!

I guess the lack of alcohol has also made me feel like I’m in my own Chinese version of  “The Priory” (a well-known rehab clinic in SW London).  I’ve had all sorts of comments on my radiant, glowing complexion (now the crazy pregnancy zits/fucking awful boil-type pimples are finally going) and this is all due to a serious lack of, well anything naughty.  I’m bored to tears (literally) but also excited to see this next baby and get back to my old body, my old alcoholic ways and being fun again.  

Right now, when I actually see other people drinking and enjoying themselves over lunch, all I want to do is go take a massive dump  (AKA. shit) in the middle of their table and tell them to piss off.  Yep… pregnancy hormones clearly make you crazy.  

 

Searching… for a new Domestic Helper

As the shit hits the bucket, it turns out, I need not ONE but TWO people to help me run my household.  Did I insist on this bullshit? Of course not. I’m not some arsehole that tells their husband “I NEED HELP RUNNING THIS SHIT HOLE SHIP”.   I like my privacy and anyone who can name and shame me to the Child services Dept in Hong Kong would be long gone.  I actually like being alone (plus you can drink without judgement).  My best friend recently stated (& I love this statement) ” I don’t drink ON my own, only ALONE”. Genius.

Sooo… I’ve been interviewing people and guess what?!  We have had some right characters walk into our house (surprise eh?).  One Helper who intervied told our current (& lovely Helper) “Your Maaam asks ALOT of questions”.  For the record, I asked her why she was leaving her job & where she had last worked.  This was the same person who turned up at ours looking like, well I’m gonna say it “a Lesbian” and then told ME how to cook the kids food (my toddlers are on Annabel Karmels food…although I’ve had it on good authority that she’s actually a bit of a knob), the kids, didn’t eat a shred of her food and then she picked up a clove and asked me (I’m, FYI, the daughter of a Chef) “What is this?”  When I told her it was a Clove, she looked angry and kept cooking.

Once I left the Kitchen and asked our present (and lovely) Helper to speak to her (to see if they get on), this bird turns around and says “Your Maam asks a lot of questions” (ie. why are you leaving your job”). Stupid bitch.  We also have cameras in the lounge, kitchen & nursery.  Yes, I do and  why the fuck not?! Every single place I’ve worked in, there are cameras.  It’s no different.  If you are going to piss, shit or most importantly, beat my kids, this is the main area to do it.  Get over it luv.  She asked our Helper “Why the cameras? What did you do?” I don’t like the cameras”.  Why? Because shes a silly cow.

So… being lazy old me, I have spoken to about a dozen people who advertised themselves on Asiaexpat stating they can “cater for dinner parties”.  A big fat lie as it turns out once you speak to anyone who goes “oh yes, I can cook omelette”.  The bird who showed up at our appartment told me, she had “soooo many interviews” she didn’t now who to choose from, which is why she came to a household with twins and a newborn on the way (full of shit clearly).  The Captain lets me interview people as my past job as a Defendat Litigation Lawyer lets me weedle out the bullshit from the truth pretty quickly.  Plus, I rely on instinct, and who can make a good cuppa tea.

We have found one person who is wonderful BUT she presents new problems…. (a) she will make our current Helper look very bad (b) she will make me look like a lazy cow, and (c) she likes to run the show.  So although this woman is clearly a “super Helper” (her new nick-name when we talk about her), I can’t have this shit going on in my house.  Otherwise, I’m redundant & our current Helper’s flaws will be highlighted (shes terrible at everything but the kids). Today we interviewed her very lovely neice.  She’s nice, kind, polite, good with the kids and states she can cook & “follow recipes”.  Who knows but, I need a happy house.  Why?  I don’t want someone being the boss of me in our own place.

Plus, I’m at home.  A very new thing to me but something incredibly important as its obvious when I’m NOT here.  The kids play up, they start speaking Filippino and no one does what they’re told.  If my job (and I think its one of the most important…and underpaid)  is going to work, I need to be here.  Until the kids can feed themselves and wipes their own arses,.  The thought of being kept “indoors” for another 3 years is killing me though BUT, I was raised in a house where, I, in effect, raised myself.  Therefore, I HAVE to be here.  Drunk or sober. They’re lucky to have me!