I’ve been blogging now for six years here at thecattylife. Prior to this, I was on blogspot, and even dabbled in Xanga in the early 00’s. Wow, that makes me feel old. I’ve always blogged for myself – I say this truthfully, I don’t really write with an audience in mind, I don’t think about SEO here and I certainly don’t propogate my posts through all my social channels. Oh wait, maybe Facebook. And Instagram, but only if there’s a really good photo to go with it.
Update 5 Aug: And look who arrived on 2 August? Little Miss Sofia. Both my kids just couldn’t wait to get out of me!
I’m 37 weeks pregnant today. 37 weeks “gestation”, a term that I’m still not used to. I’m sitting in my obstetrician’s office as I type this, a weekly occurrence now between 36 weeks and when-life-goes-cray-cray.
37 weeks may not be all that interesting to anyone else, but it’s significant to me. Because Sam decided to come right on 37 weeks on the dot.
A couple of weeks ago, my mother-in-law loaded us up with lemons from her tree before she headed off on an overseas sojourn. I’m not really a lemon-buyer in general, I just don’t know what to do with them, but when I become a lemon-receiver, I (a) share the lemon love with friends and (b) pretty much forget about the ones I’m left with.
He’s so cute, he’s so cute, he’s so cute, he’s SO CUTE. This is the mantra I have to repeat over and over to myself when it’s 5am and we’ve been up playing for a good five hours and somebody just doesn’t want to go back to sleep. That’s right, we’ve been bitten by the bug, the nasty 18 month sleep regression bug. Before I go on, I should warn you that this post is likely to contain language that is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18, or easily offended by my potty mouth. Proceed with caution!
Today, Sam is 18 months old. In 18 months, the tiny helpless screaming little blob that was thrust onto my chest and deep into my life has not only quadrupled in size, he’s evolved to become a little human being. Our days are now pretty routine, and I feel like I have less to say than when he was 6 months, 9 months and even 12 months old.
po piah (fresh spring rolls with yambean, shredded omelette, tofu, cucumber,
mince, crispy shallots and chilli paste)
Lots of people have blogged about Hawker. I read, I drooled, my eyes fell out of my head. I could not wait to get my face into the apam balik, rojak, po piah and the supposedly amazeballs assam laksa. I mean, I’m Malaysian and all that, but I really love Malaysian food. Despite the fact that I can’t actually cook any of it (oh wait, I did make char kuay teow that one time!) we eat Malaysian at least once a week and really the point is, if there’s a good new place, I wanna know about it.
So with the hype under my belt, we checked out Hawker last weekend… and I was… not blown away.