Answering Gerard's request from last week, here's a photo of me at around 2 (click on photo to enlarge). Yep, I looked like a leg ham with all those layers of clothes.
And so much has changed since 1985... My current hourly income is more than what mum used to make in a month; I would not own my first CD for another 10 years; and I wouldn't have travelled outside of my province for another 5 years.
This week, I'd like to write about some of my most treasured childhood memories that I'll be sure to share with my children and even grandchildren for the many years to come.
Wontons or no wontons
From the age of around 8, I started walking to school by myself. On my way there, I'd always visit my favourite noodle house to get my daily breakfast. Eating out is such a common practice in Guangzhou (my home town) so it wasn't such an extravagance for a little kid to do the same. The most important decision was always 'wontons or no wontons'. Wontons are little dumplings stuffed with pork, prawns and mushrooms, and are usually part of your noodle soup. The dilemma for any 8 year old was whether to spend 1.50 yuan (around 25 cents) to include wontons with your noodles or just go with plain noodles, a thrifty 1 yuan. The saving would mean the difference of an ice-block later that day or no arvo snack. Decisions decisions. If only adult life was so simple!
Snails and swallows
For reasons unknown, I was fascinated by snails as a child. The way they move and leave what looks like snot trails, the way their tentacles shrink when you touch them, and not to mention the way they can fit their whole body into their shell. The apartment we used to live in was behind the main block of street facing buildings and could be reached via many alley ways from all different directions. There was a garden bed on one of the less direct alley ways that seemed to house snails en masse, especially after some rain. I'd always make sure to take that way home on rainy days so I could collect a new selection of snails, big and small. But for the life of me, I can't remember now what I ever did with them once I took them home. Another upside of taking the long way home was a swallows nest sitting on the wooden beam of an old fashion sliding door of one of the houses on that alley way. Even though it was quite high up and hard to see, hearing those little baby swallows chirp was just the best.
Summer holidays
When you're a kid, summer holidays always seemed to last a century. I'd always look forward to having my cousin, Cathy, over to play. We'd spend hours sitting in the plastic bath tub, scooping water in and out of our little pots, pretending to cook up a feast, until our skin would wrinkle up like prunes. Another favourite game was teachers and students. We gave all our dolls names of kids from our school – the naughty kids' names were always given to the boy dolls and the most well behaved dolls were always named after our best friends. We'd get really creative with what little classroom 'facilities' we had – a thin sheet of paper placed in front of the lamp would become the overhead projector, a knitting needle would become our blackboard pointer. Long days of play always ended with a nap on the bamboo weave mat placed on the tiled floor of the living room. I still love my naps till this day.
I know that our baby will have a very different life to mine. But I hope that one day, he/she will look back on their childhood and remember those simple things and moments which sums up 'la dolce vita'.
It's been a while since my last entry. I cannot match Viv's prolific output; you know, busy busy busy, people to meet, places to visit. Last time I talked about nicknames, this time I'll talk about names. Real names. You see, as most of you are probably aware, there will come a time when your baby will have to be given a name. Something that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. This is serious stuff. Viv and I discussed potential baby names years and years ago. It won't surprise you to hear it was always Vivian who started that discussion, but I'm always happy to go along with. Besides, I wouldn't know what else to talk to, and you gotta do something to avoid those awkward silent moments sitting side by side on the couch during ad breaks in Biggest Loser. We collectively changed our minds a couple times (I'm easy with things like that), but for the past 3 years we settled on two names; X and Y. These names were going to be secret until the day the baby was born, but unfortunately that day I forgot to send Vivian a memo advising her of that decision. By week -10 (that's right, negative ten), all of Viv's colleagues with the names X and Y had been informed that that's what our children were going to be named, and that they themselves had nothing to do with that decision, because these names were picked way before we even knew these people. I guess it's still somewhat of an honour, because had those people been annoying or disagreeable in any way, that name would have probably been scrapped. By week 12 Viv informed my brother via email simply because he mentioned names somewhere in the email. The cat was well and truly out of the bag now, but still I asked if we could keep it a surprise to at least a few people (the ones living under rocks). Reluctant to oblige she tried brushing it aside saying, 'It might not even look like an X or Y'. Now, I've heard that one before. In fact, I heard that one so often I lost count. I can't wait to finally understand what that means, because right now, I can't imagine what it's like to look at your newborn, and decide it definitely does/doesn't look like an X or Y. How on earth do you decide whether or not a baby looks like a particular name? Did I look like a David when I was born? Do I look like one now? Personally, I always thought I looked a bit like a Norbert (see photo – aged 6), but hey, what can you do; nobody asked me at the time. If I was to take a hot bath for the next 9 months, fully submerged, will I still look like a Norbert? Probably even more so, and the thought definitely sounds appealing. As long as it doesn't come out looking like a Benjamin Button I don't care, because I will do a runner to the nearest canal; I can't wait for another 40 years before it looks like a Brad Pitt!
On Tuesday we went to have our second ultrasound to check that everything’s developing well with the baby. Again, I didn’t drink enough water (a large bladder pushes the womb upwards so it’s easier for the technician to make all the measurements) so the lady decided to tilt the bed backwards. It was…..interesting………to say the least and a couple of times I felt like I was going to slide off the bed!
Since there is less room this time, our baby wasn’t moving as much as last time. And since it’s bigger, you can't see the whole body in the one shot so it wasn’t as exciting as the last ultrasound. But we did get to see the baby’s hands and feet in great detail, as well as the heart pumping the blood at 153 beats a minute! Look at attached photo of our baby waving to the world.
From head to butt the baby is now a little over 15 centimetres long. And the technician should be able to tell the sex. Although we told her as soon as we walked in that we didn’t want to find out, we couldn’t help but notice when she made a gender specific comment! Even though it was just the once, it did put ideas in our heads.
After the ultrasound we also met our midwife, Alex, for the first time. She was very nice and understanding and I think it’ll be great to have her at the birth. She gave us the option to give birth at the birth centre or the delivery clinic. “What’s the difference?!” I hear you ask. We asked the same question too. Basically, the birth centre offers a setting similar to a home birth. They don’t perform continuous monitoring and provides little intervention. They also don’t offer any hard drugs (e.g. epidural) but will give me a little happy gas to ease the pain. The delivery clinic, just around the corridor, has a more clinical setting. You’ll be hooked up to all the machines monitoring everything and they will intervene and offer drugs when needed. When Alex showed us a room in the birth centre, our minds were easily made up. It looked like a normal bedroom, with a double bed (so dad can also get in) and a huge bathroom with an enormous bath tub (if you want to give water birth a go) and an equally big shower. You also get to have the room by yourself and if you need intervention or drugs at any stage, just say the word and they’ll walk you right into the delivery clinic. So it’s the best of both worlds! I hope I will be strong enough and that the birth will be smooth enough for us to stay in the birth centre the whole time.
Again, the hospital is impressing us with its endless good service and first class facilities. I don't think anyone has been as excited to go stay in a hospital as me! In a few weeks we'll be doing some classes on the birth and breast-feeding, plus a hospital tour. I'm sure there'll be more impressive hospital updates to come.
Bye bye for now......*baby waves good-bye to everyone*
Love,
Viv
