The weather was pleasant this morning.  Not sunny at all.  So we headed to East Coast and rented a twin to ride along the beach for a good hour after our breakfast. 

Gavin sat quietly in front on the child seat throughout the ride, enjoying the breeze and smell of the sea, while the two of us slaved at the pedals behind him. 

There weren’t that many people at the beach today which was a surprise.  A handful of bikers, some roller bladers and a few photographers who were snapping pictures of a bikini-clad model posing in the waters.

However, what started out for us as a leisure cycle became a strenuous ride later when the weather took a turn and the haze came to haunt the beach.  It smelt horrible and we had to pedal really hard back to the bicycle rental station. 

Just as well.  As by the time we returned the bike, not only were our legs worn out, but both our crotches were numbed from sitting too long on the bike.  Haha.  We could hardly walk properly for a while after that!  And Gavin, who was seated comfortably throughout, was of course spared. 

I take you to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part. 

This was the marriage vow I took nine years ago.  We were of course very much dizzy in love at that time.  But now? 

So many things have happened.  Some good.  Some lousy.  Some sad.  But all in all, I still cherish this marriage and hope to fulfill my marriage vows. 

To me, a marriage means we become one.  One heart.  One mind.  One entity.  

To give each other emotional support.  To shoulder each other’s worries and problems.   To be the shadow of the other and move forward together in our life’s journey. 

This is why we took those marriage vows.    

天长地久有那么难吗?

I can safely say many of you have seen more of my feet than my face or my body.  Hurhur.  That’s because I’m a feet-centred person and I like to flaunt what I think are rather pretty feet. 

(Actually the real reason is, there’s not much to show off in terms of my face or bod.)  

Which is why I must always have colours on my toe nails.  It is a taboo for me to leave my house without them nicely painted.  Like not having my clothes on, if you know what I mean.  

I do my own pedicure.  Either weekly or fortnightly.  Sometimes I get lazy and I drag my feet for another week if I don’t need to leave the house that often. Of course I’ll like to have the pedicurist handle the full works if I’m not such an el cheapo.  Plus I got chicken feet after learning that harmful bacterias can accumulate in whirlpool foot baths that are not properly cleansed and thereafter cause problematic leg infections.  However I suspect that these fears will quickly subside if the pedicure was free.

Anway, it’s important for me to take care of my feet because they make good conversation piece at interesting moments.  Like bored nurses in the delivery room who took turns to examine my toe nails like it was some art and commented that the colours matched the hospital robe I was in.  I’m sure admiring my toe nails was far more interesting than peering into my dark hole to check if my cervix was fully dilated for Gavin to pop. 

Speaking of which, I wonder if the colour I used then had anything to do with my whiney son now.  Because the label at the bottom of the bottle reads “STOP WINE-ING”.

Gavin sometimes calls me a hairy monster.  Not because I’m exceptionally hairy but rather, I’ve hair on certain parts of my body that he doesn’t.  Can you guess where?

For someone who usually leaves the bathroom door open when I bathe, I now have to mindfully close the door when my son is around or am at least wrapped in a towel.  I no longer feel at ease changing in front of him. 

In fact, since he turned two, I have become more conscious especially after once when he pointed at a picture of a lady in a magazine and said “same, same as mummy.”  And the lady was clad in underwear. 

This is another reason why I find it difficult to go out with him on my own especially if I have to use the toilet because he’s still too young to be left standing outside the cubicle by himself.  However, if I let him stay inside the cubicle with me when I pee, he’ll scrutinise and then blurt out “eeeew, mummy scary, mummy hairy monster.”

You may say, well, he’s still too young and it doesn’t matter.  But to me, impressions can start very early and have lasting effects.   I’m not a prude but still, I don’t want to encourage my little boy to start early and think that viewing the female anatomy is a most natural thing to do.  Or that he can go round tickling other girls’ bottoms or breasts for fun like he does with mine sometimes.   Essentially, he must turn out to be normal and not warp (and not go round calling women hairy monsters.)

So I do need to be more responsible in terms of my own actions.  But I’m kind of lost as to how best to deal with such matters as a woman.  For example, while I know it’s natural for little boys of his age to be curious about their genitalia,  I actually find it embarrassing when I catch him exploring his own willy sometimes and I don’t really know what to do except to slap his hands.  

Hopefully his dad will be able to teach him about these things in time.  Well, he better do.  After all, he has more first-hand knowledge compared to me.

I visited my mum today and learnt from her that my nephew’s second child was born two weeks ago.  The parents are elated and this time I bet they’re going to celebrate in a much bigger way when the baby turns one month old.  Already their first child, a girl, had quite an elaborate celebration.  So what’s more now that it’s a boy.

Yes, believe it or not, sex of the baby is a big issue for the young couple who are only in their late 20s.  They have all along wanted very much to have a boy.  While they are no Prince Akishino or Princess Kiko of the Japanese imperial family, having a son to ensure the continuation of their family line is still of utmost importance. 

I know some of you are probably shaking your heads in disbelief and dismissing this as regressive views.  But I also believe there are some of you who hold this belief.  In fact, I know of someone like that, who has a daughter and is a lot younger than me.  She actually told me that she prefers boys because she feels that daughters are a liability and in her exact words, 泼出去的水 which literally means “water to be thrown out”.  JUST HOW LAME IS THAT LINE OF THOUGHT?  I almost wanted to choke her then and even now, I still cannot believe she said those words. 

This is Singapore I’m talking about.  Not some third world countries where daughters are associated with a lower value and highly discriminated.  Or some highly populous backward countries with an ongoing history of female infanticide.

I can only imagine it’s because of the conditioning that she, and many women like her, lived with.  Perhaps their parents have been biased and had favoured their brothers.  Or perhaps their in-laws have shown a clear preference for sons.  And for a mother-to-be or a pregnant woman, can you imagine how stressful it is to have to constantly worry about the sex of the baby?  On top of having to worry if the baby is healthy?

Personally, I prefer girls if I had a choice.  But having said that, I’m still grateful for having Gavin.  Because he’s my saviour and has spared me any unnecessary nagging from my MIL.  And that’s the real reason why I love him.  Not just because he’s my…boy.