The thing(s) about blogging (a.k.a. why my blogs are dead)

It’s been months since I blogged. I keep more than one, but I hardly update them.

The thing about blogging is that it takes commitment and work. And I am terribly lazy.

I realized that the only reason I liked to “blog” in my college years was mostly because I wanted to keep on redesigning my personal website. But once that’s done, the blogging slacks off. So I was more of a web designer than a real content generator (back then, at least).

Content generation takes an awful lot of work. Writing is one thing, photo editing is another. In fact, for my now-defunct travel blog, photo editing was 90% of the work. It was so time consuming, I hated doing it.

Is that why your travel blog is now dead?

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Musicals and I

Recently, my husband and I had our 5th year wedding anniversary. On the day itself, we treated ourselves to a fancy date: a steak dinner at CUT by Wolfgang Puck. A week after that, we had a post-anniversary celebration: we went to see Les Misérables at the Esplanade Theatre.

I was certainly looking forward to seeing the actual musical theatre production, since seeing the movie a few years ago.  I have to say, it didn’t disappoint! All the main cast were amazing, and Patrice Tipoki’s take on Fantine was refreshing.

The stage of Les Miserables, taken during a break.
The stage of Les Misérables show at the Esplanade Theatre, taken during a break.

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Motherhood changed the way I react to a scene

Recently, my husband and I left our child in the care of her nanny while we watched “The Fault In Our Stars” at the nearby cinema.

I have read this book last year, and I pretty much knew what to expect. The movie even retained most lines from the novel, so it wasn’t really new. But I did not expect to cry when I did. I can’t find a clip, so I’m uploading photos of the text instead.
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8 ways that motherhood has changed me

Baby E & me
Bebe (4.5 months) and myself at our family photoshoot

1. I became a light sleeper — but only when it comes to Bebe.

Ask anyone who’s ever spent a night with me, and they’ll tell you the same thing. It’s incredibly difficult to wake me. No alarm clock is ever effective on me.

My husband is a loud snorer (so loud that he can be heard from the living room) yet I can sleep soundly snuggled up beside him.

At the same time, I wake up at my baby’s slightest whimper.

It’s incredible and I don’t know why it’s possible to happen that I can do both (sleep to my husband’s snoring and wake to my baby’s whimpering) but it’s true and I can’t explain it and it’s just so darn amazing to me.

2. I found out that I can survive on so little sleep.

At six months old, my baby still wakes up several times a night. I work full-time. Sometimes I wonder how I’m able to (mostly) function with the little, broken sleep that I get night after night.

There was a time when I was seriously considering sleep training as an option, but I’m back to “I think I can bear with it.” She sleeps in a cot beside our bed, so I still have to get up when she wakes. Sometimes I nurse her to sleep, sometimes a little patting and rubbing is all she needs, and sometimes she’s so wide awake that I need to rock her to get her drowsy. It’s only those moments (once a night, at most) when she just wouldn’t go to sleep, not even after nursing or  rocking her for close to an hour, that sleep training thoughts crawl into my head.

3. I discovered the strength of my arms.

According to the growth chart published by the Singapore government, Bebe is at the 97th percentile in weight. My sister tells me that my 6-month old is heavier than her almost-3-year-old child.

I used to think that I could not possibly rock her when her weight reaches 8kg (~18 lbs). Her weight is now almost 9kg (~20 lbs) and I’m still able to rock her to sleep. The only exception would be these once-a-night incidents where she’d sometimes become sleep-resistant: wouldn’t fall asleep to nursing or rocking. When I’ve rocked her for close to an hour, my arms start to ache. When I reach this point, I cave in, wake my husband up, and ask for help.

4. I found myself caring much about how my baby looks, but I don’t mind going out knowing I look dishevelled.

Her clothes are awesome, thanks to the generosity of my family and friends. When we go out, she’d look so incredibly put together, while I look like I just rolled off of bed. And I don’t care.

5. I’ve become less affectionate towards my husband.

This one is kind of tough to admit, but it’s true. My patience with him has become short. I get snappy. I demand more. I expect more.

It takes a bit of effort to remind myself to keep our relationship healthy. Just because I’m tired doesn’t mean I can snap at him for the little things. I need to learn to take a moment, take a breath, before responding. Sometimes that one intake of air is all it takes to make me react appropriately.

6. I found myself wanting to be home early.

Bebe is an early-to-bed, early-to-rise baby. She’s down by 7pm, and up for the day at 6:30am, with several wakings in between. Sometimes it’s a little inconvenient because you get to say “no” to most dinner invites. But I’m not complaining. This schedule gives us “me” time to unwind at the end of they day — and I think it’s what keeps us sane.

When we do go out with Bebe with us, we’ll definitely be home around 5pm.

When I go to the office, I don’t get to be the one to put her to bed because I don’t make it in time for her bedtime routine. Instead, I try to be home by 9pm.

7. I’ve become one of those parents on your social media feeds.

Yes, all my posts are about my cute baby. I flood your feed with her cuteness.

8. I’ve become to appreciate mothers more. Especially single moms, stay-at-home moms, and nannies included.

Raising a baby is an extremely demanding task, and I am saying this from the point of view of a married woman blessed with a nanny to help me out with a single baby. I don’t know how people cope with a child with special needs, multiple children, and/or with little help.

To anyone who’s ever raised a child: I am amazed by you. You are incredible.

On Identity and the Internet

1. Birth of my online identity

I have carved out a space for myself in the internet world since I was maybe 13 or 14 years old. It was borne out of a fandom. I wrote fan fiction, and submitted it to a website under a pseudonym, an alter-ego. I checked it out recently. The fandom has died down a bit, but the work remains published. Proof of my juvenile writing still exists, and no, I will not tell you how to find it.

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