Games, or apps for that matter, usually get updated by the developers. Either to add in new features, bug fixes, to be more updated; in particular with games, new scenes or characters would be added. With the zoo game that Caitlin plays, I have seen new animals and rangers being added when they are updated.

So now that I am away from home I have removed most of the games that were on the iPhone. For that matter I have also removed some of the security features- there were a few times when Caleb had unintentionally deleted my apps and info; he didn’t know better, of course.

So now when I check for updates of my apps, some of these installed games would indicate that there are updates available.

I don’t update them now.

And I kinda feel guilty, and sad.

Guilty because, even though they are games- I only install educational games or at least non-violent games; they do teach something to the kids. Hand-eye coordination, math games, basic strategies (the zoo management game), or simply interacting with “tools” that will become even bigger parts of their adult lives compared to us now. Guilty because I have taken away this opportunity/”toy” away from them.

And sad. I miss them.

In my dream I could recall real-life memories of skyping with my kids. I could recall the blurry image of them in the chat window, how I could still make out Caitlin’s missing two front teeth.

Then, still in that dream and with that “knowledge” or memory, I approached the Caitlin in my dream.

She was already a grown teenager, my height, bearing a full set of adult teeth. She was also dressed in her school uniform. She didn’t speak, just smiled lots.

Typical of my dreams (that I could at least remember) I was running around a lot, asking what’s-this/what’s-going-on questions. Particularly (mainly because I didn’t see anyone else) asking Hot Mummee this. She nonchalantly ignored me/my questions, went about her usual staring at her laptop. I recall I kept saying “But she was always only this tall”, holding my hand to my sternum, palm down. In the dream I even asked HM if Caitlin had even gone through puberty yet.

Cut to another scene; you know how dreams are.

There was me, the current-sized Caleb, and one other character in the foreground. We were near an open window.

Caleb proceeded to swiftly walk-climb to the open window, and fell out!

I peered out over the ledge; it was only a ground floor window, and he was faced down in a drain.

Cut to the next scene I was already outside. I picked him up, and sat him on the ledge of a flowerbox wall next to the drain. He was sobbing quietly. “Where ouch-ouch?” I asked, brushing dirt off his body. He points to a few joints here and there.

Then I woke up.

They say you can really only remember the last dream you had just before waking, forgetting the earlier dreams you have had from your whole sleep.

I think there are obvious underlying themes here, in my current conscious state of mind.. :-/

Hope you enjoy this bit of a rant. It is to do with my well-being, especially in the context of having (enough?) energy as a father chasing around demanding 6- and 3-year olds

I’m into social media and twitter, and I was whining about my bad knee, and how I was putting on the pounds with the lack of (conventional) exercise. This is my left knee, which I damaged years ago when I went back to the gym after some time off and went straight for the same weight I used before, for squatting. Dumbass. I should have, and do know better. That’s how I had stayed injury free, till then.

Either that or it was the time when I curled my leg to pull myself closer to the office desk on the wheeled-chair, and my knee popped.

Either way, it hurts like hell now at the point of the common angle of climbing up a stair- 45 degrees from straight; which means I can’t play tennis anymore (since one has to be bent-kneed to be ready to pounce towards where the ball is going).

So, a mutual friend on twitter read the whine. She happens to be a qualified trainer, just returning from Vegas then. “Why not come give Bikram yoga a try?”

My mum used to teach yoga to her friends at home, in the early 80′s. She had started practising at home in the late 70′s when my older brother bought her a book titled “Yoga for health”. Me being the youngest and already starting high school, she had more time and thought to teach it. I think she was proud of how many had commented how young she looks for her age; she’s always attributed it to yoga. Whenever she was teaching upstairs I’d be downstairs watching either The A-team, Airwolf or MacGyver, to give you an idea when this was.

Whenever she was practising, I’d use to join her. Not for all the poses, only what I thought was challenging for someone my age then. The Bat was one I would always try- where one sits on the floor with legs straight and wide open, and chin to the floor, finger grabbing the toes. If I recall, the advanced version would involve proceeding to a complete side-split, stomach on the floor and roll forward and end up on the stomach with legs behind and flat on the floor.

Years after that whilst growing up, I’d still do that for fun- on the floor while watching TV, or reading the newspapers. I always felt better after a stretch. It also helped with the karate and kung-fu classes I would take short years after that. Boarding school bullies who try to challenge me would think twice when I “show off” warming up for the “duel”. Okay- news about giving the karate instructor a bloody nose during sparring also helped.

Since those years ago, I took up the usual sports like tennis and gym, etc. Never at all giving “real” complete yoga classes any thought. I was in all ways, a typical bloke.

So I accepted this invitation to give Bikram class a try this past April. I was not happy with my weight and, truthfully, my image, my puffy face. I could only wear my 2 largest pants in my wardrobe. I had also just done a medical and my cholesterol levels were frightening.

At the first class, I could do most of the stretch-related poses, but no way till today could I keep my endurance up for all the pose-holding. In May there was a 3 week work-related travel away from home. Being the first time in the US I tried mostly all of the foods presented to the delegation and also US-sized fast food. Upon returning I was even more motivated.

I have been trying to go 3 times a week since then. Most times when I couldn’t was due to my daughter’s whining- due to my fulltime job I could only go after work, which means no time for her/them and our trips to the playground, dinners together, or simply just hanging out. During periods of lull in the office, I have gone for the early morning classes to improvise. I have been lucky with this arrangement this year.

Around July or August during a family dinner my older sister, whom I don’t see regularly, commented that I have lost weight “and look better this way”. Her teenage daughters and other nieces, being something of activity-junkies themselves, were asking which studio I attend. I had even brought one of them along once for her to try. And as expected, it is too slow for her. Though she could do everything and had enjoyed it, she is back to her usual bouldering and cheer-leading activities; “for now”, this late-teenager added.

So, I’m still attending as regularly as I can. I do feel more energetic, noticeably able to keep up with the kids. I am getting back some definition, an image which I wasn’t so conscious anymore at our recent family trip to a water park. I am sure the wife has also had some secret thoughts though she hasn’t shared much (!) but I do know she is happy for me too.

These days I can chomp down the nieces-made cheesecakes and rebut the wife when she warns that I would put on weight. “Don’t worry, I now know the formula!”

Thanks to Bikram instructor Mei Ng, http://twitter.com/MeiNg, for the invitation

After all, it is about time she learns how to manage her own time and implications of otherwise. I have already gotten her a desk clock which she out-of-blue asked for a few weeks ago, which I gladly did. I think she saw it in some tv show and thought it’d be cool (from a 6 year old’s perspective of “cool”) to also have one of her own.

She was quite specific about it too. She insisted that it had to “be pink, have hands, and also ears”. I wasn’t sure if she had seen it in a cartoon and thus unlikely to exist in real life. So I had drawn it to be sure we had the same understanding.

We did.

It’s not exactly a very precise alarm clock; it does ring, plus/minus 20 minutes either way of the alarm setting hand! I also couldn’t find one with all the numbers of the clock, for a clock that (smallish) size.

But back to the topic at hand.

Now that she is “orientating” for standard 1, a timely opportunity for her to start getting into some kinda independence in terms of getting things done in time, and being on time.

So I didn’t disagree with Grandma getting her a wrist watch.

It is just that if it were me; and I did think it would be me, that I would get her one with hands. Admittedly we didn’t consult each other on this purchase, or even the intention of the purchase.

For “all his life” Caleb has been used to coming along to the ride for dropping off Caitlin at her school every schoolday morning (Caleb is 3, and Caitlin has been at preschool for the last 3 years).

He is used to the route (yes he recognises the roads), the scenery on the way and of the front of the school, the teachers who help/walk the kids into the school, and the whole routine of Daddee then taking his time dropping him off at Grandma’s and then only to work.

Now that she is done with preschool, and with Daddee trying still to figure out the optimum way to ferry them around, he will have to stop calling her preschool “my school too”. For strange funny reasons, he does call her preschool his.

Quite adamantly. And for that, I for one have been using that to teach him to stop peeing in his pants. “PEE IN YOUR PANTS AGAIN? You can’t go to school yet then! Children who pee in their pants cannot go to school”, which of course isn’t true from what Caitlin tells me about her classmates!

Anyway, now that we are told to not walk the kids into the school, this may be my answer: Drop off jie-jie first, watch/ensure she does get in safely, then only drive off and drop Caleb at Grandma’s.

This may also allow the kids to sleep even-if-it’s-only 10 minutes longer, seeing as the new route/routine has to cater to longer commute time and traffic challenges.

I went to pick her up today from school; grand parents are away on overseas holiday and I was the logical choice for this privilege. Before Caitlin came out one of the teachers greeted me with “Caitlin was good in gym today”. Oh yeah? I thought, not really sure what she meant. Out came Caitlin accompanied by her class teacher, who immediately started saying words like “I had wanted to call you”, “But Caitlin said no need; Daddee is picking me up today..”

I wasn’t really paying attention to her cos I had just seen Caitlin. My immediate thought was: That looks like dried nosebleed, between her nose and bottom lip. Why hasn’t anyone wiped it away?? But soon, it became clearer what had happened, when more teacher-words were heard.

“Gym class”, “spider-walk”, “Caitlin was looking sideways at a friend”, “slipped”, “hit the pavement with face”.

I kneeled down for better look. My baby looked so pitiful; she had certainly been crying- gym class is quite early in her day and it was already end of school now. I looked closer, it all looked superficial. I couldn’t tell what had happened to her lower lip- there was dried peeled skin at both corners but the middle didn’t really looked chaffed. What was dried-blood-coloured I guessed is abrasion-bruising.

More teacher-words: “Lucky didn’t hit her teeth..” which I confirmed was so, upon closer inspection and talking to Caitlin.

We then proceeded with the plans for the day. I was held up at a meeting and was late to get lunch first before picking her, so she had to tag along while I did that. Poor kid just wasn’t in the mood for anything. When I eventually found a park near the shops, she asked if she could play some iPhone games in the car. Trusting her from previous experience, I agreed and she locked the doors promising not to touch the gearstick.

I should have known better to get something other than what she asked for: Soupy noodles. Hot soupy noodles that would only aggravate her bruised lips.

At home I made sure I threw away most of the soup, leaving only enough that it is still a soupy noodle. Had the ceiling fan on high, and at least she still enjoyed it, slowly.

In all, things were back on schedule despite my mad rush back from KLIA to pick her and lunch. The tuition teacher came, and they proceeded as planned.

After class she lazed around. I had planned on going to exchange the window contact sheet I bought yesterday from Ace hardware for another design (my parents’ new place has glazed shower windows that are still quite SEE THROUGH, especially at night) and insisted she completed whatever homework she has first. That wasn’t a bad experience; luckily her mood had somewhat improved. Probably cos she knew we were gonna go out soon. She loves malls!

Back at my parents’, before dinner she had wanted to cycle for a little while. This being the only time she could cos the ‘cycles are at my parents’ because of the bigger space they have. When dinner was ready, I went out to call the kids back in. Turned my back and I hear a yelp following by crying. Caitlin’s bicycle was toppled over and she was hands and knees over it. Apparently she had fallen cheek-to-handle contact, close to the gym-class bruise site.

I checked, I think it may bruise a little too.

After dinner she helped to unwrap the contact sheet packaging. Instead of just splitting the end and pulling out the roll at the top, she slide her finger along the length of the hard plastic. Yup, she got an equivalent of a papercut.

Now I think that teacher was trying to play down the extent of the “damage”.

Certainly not a good day at all. Throughout, she was exhibiting a sigh-roll-eyes body language, as close as what a 6 year old could muster.

The bloodwork came back all good news. The Dr, whom had presumably a few minutes ago rummaged through the pages before calling me in, was flicking through the four-page report, pencil-pointing to me the different categories and the corresponding figures and how each were within acceptable range etc.

And then we came to the last page, where he used the word “awful” to describe my cholesterol levels.

I kinda already expected bad news in this area. My family, no- my siblings & my mum, have always had high levels. The last time I checked was in the mid-90′s. Yes I know I have been slack about this. Back then, it was already at 6.3, if I remember correctly.

So, couple with these histories and how I have not really been watching what I eat, I was already prepared to hear the “awful” news.

7.3.

Alright, I wasn’t prepared to learn that it was that high.

I don’t eat shellfish foods; the only seafood I eat is fish, and the occasional prawn already prepared, like in dim sum, stir-fries, etc. I won’t go out of my way to order huge prawns or crabs or anything like that. Never was into them since young. I think it all started with “what an effort just to get that little bit of meat, when it’s not all that tasty to me anyway” attitude that kinda stuck as I grew up. I do like meat though, like steaks and lamb (shanks) etc. That’s probably why I knew that it would still be on the high side.

But again, never expected it that high.

Was it a wake-up call? Kinda.

Upon seeing another Dr (the panel doctor, to get the medication) he was saying that since my family history is already such, and that my last check was already so high, there is no point changing diet just to see how low it falls- to go straight to starting medication as well as changing my diet.

Kinda tough considering I already don’t eat much seafood, if at all. So I started looking into where else I could modify.

With my understanding, exercise also helps in some ways: Along with “flushing” away fats, the act of exercising also makes the liver produce less bad cholesterols. It has also been a while since I got back into that regime.

Some of you would know that I had started attending Bikram yoga since April/May. I ramped up my frequencies after this wake-up. I had also started going for walks at the Kiara trek whenever I was able to finish work early.

But I think it was also that I really started watching what I eat, and more importantly, how big/small the portions are, in my every meal, that had made the difference.

I won’t bother trying to identify which of these factors helped, but these days I do feel more energetic, and able to chase my 2 little monkeys around a little more

Since it is pretty evident that this is a congenital characteristic that’s literally in the blood (genes), I am also starting to coach Caitlin to avoid high cholesterol foods.

Taught her about good fats and bad fats, by borrowing my own experience when I first learn about cholesterol in my teens. This was my brother in law’s analogy of how to remember them. There are HDLs and LDLs, high and low density lipids. The way to remember which one to reduce, if you spoke Hokkien, is H is for “ho”, as in “good”; and L stands for “lousy”

The human liver produces these lipids. In our case ours basically produce too much of it; and consuming them in foods doesn’t help my/our cause. These drugs basically blocks the liver from producing so much, and it is hoped that coupled with reduced intake in foods, that my levels would be brought down to more favourable levels.

But that doesn’t discount the fact that, since my levels have been so high for so long, I’d probably already have some levels of deposits in my internal blood-tubes…..

Now Daddee has to start taking medications every night, “forever” :-\

I had just hooked up the PS2 this morning, after promising Caitlin I would this weekend; since her uncle had given her the Bee Movie game. She’s been bugging me to hook it up for a while now.

Now, you know that iDevices are much newer technology than the PS2, and even then the PS3, given the more advanced console the controls are still the same.

After I hooked up the PS2, Caleb had a go.

He couldn’t get it to work- he was physically tilting the controller left and right to get Barry Benson to move around.

Why? Because he’s so used to the iPhone’s accelerometer to steer!

Okay you had to be there!

They said I have a good swing, only it lacked the whip of the wrist, that my swing is too rounded and even. Otherwise, I do “feel” it too that the swing is not-bad

I think I can now justifiable use that on Caleb.

Earlier this year, probably not long after his 2nd birthday, we were already kicking a miniature basketball around inside the house. Caitlin, by comparison, sometimes still misses kicking the stationary ball, let alone decide which direction the ball will roll!

Caleb has always been able to center the ball, in terms of placing it squarely infront of him, and then actually kicking it straight to me. Not a bad feat for a kid his age; even my older brother (who is quite athletic himself during his day!) says so.

This morning, while waiting for lunch to be ready, we were again kicking the ball around in the living room. I decided instead of the usual to-and-froing, that I’d mark him soccer style.

Ball steals left and right, getting him to dodge in the same directions half a second later only to find the ball missing, and chasing after Daddee who is dribbling the ball away. Mind you for a 2.5 year old this is all new tricks for him to see and observe. At least it was all giggles and not cries of having the ball marked and stolen from him.

A short 10 minutes or so later old-man Daddee already had to sit down. But what does he find Caleb doing?

He is actually dribbling soccer-style behind the ball! The kid’s actually picked it up from just 10 minutes before!

Granted the living room isn’t very big, but he’s managed consistently to maintain just behind the ball, toe-tapping it 2-3 times as he ran after it before reaching the end of the living room, reposition, and start again the opposite direction!

Maybe I should expose him to golf next, and let him turn pro! Nothing wrong with soccer, just that as a professional career golf is a lot longer! This Daddee can be his manager and go on tour with him!

Oh, and yes- those are still his water-proof training pants!

This morning in the car ride she’s reminded me that a couple of her teeth now feel wobbly..

I am happy that she is growing, but at the same time I don’t want her to!

I have said before that I envy Caleb’s head-shape: Cos this Daddee can never pull off getting a crew cut like this and still look “normal”, instead, likely to even get a chuckle from people at first sight.

This shot was taken under 30min of him having it cut. As you can guess, it was in a major shopping centre. Here we are taking some snaps of the Chinese New Year decor.

Despite minor protests from Hot Mummee, I stand by my decision for this crew cut… And no, this is not a sign of things to come, insofar as fathers imposing their wishes onto their kids! IT’S ONLY A HAIRCUT!

Everyone has their styles. Some hold their groins scurrying and yelling “I gotta go I GOTTA GO” while others do so subtly, yet while others (still) don’t tell you AT ALL that they have done it.

As far as a number 1 goes, Caleb won’t tell you. At all. Until you carry him and feel the wet diaper on your forearm, or when you discover the puddle of pee on the floor, while he is still running around being his 2year old self discovering and/or copying what his older sister does.

For his number 2′s however, is something I haven’t seen “done” before.

I understand everyone needs their privacy, whether it’s cos the poop is gonna stink, or that it’s simply because it’s the action of pooping. But for a 2 year old, what’s “privacy”? So it is with a lot of laughter of adorableness when we hear about, and then get to see, how my boy does it.

In private.

When you kinda suddenly discover him missing, you start to wonder whether he’s okay- but more often than not it’s because he has run to some corner of the room/house; preferably behind something, and pushing. It doesn’t matter if the pusher is 2 or 20 years old, I believe all humans push the same way. It becomes a lot more “funny” when it’s on a 2 year old boy. The same slight-squirm, the same red-face. Only standing up, hiding in some corner.

When we discover him “midway” he is somewhat apprehensive, don’t-come-any-closer kinda gesture. Dunno why. Perhaps at (only?) 2 he is starting to feel shame and embarrassment already. This idea is emphasised when I tease him (yes this Daddee teases his kids)- at any “usual” moment I’d look at him and say “Ngg ngg? Ngg ngg??” (the local baby talk for pooping; I think you can imagine how that term came about!) where he’d quite vehemently declare “Mai! MAI!” (which till today we are wondering whether he is trying to speak Hokkien dialect when most of what he hears is Cantonese where “no” is “moi”, not the Hokkien “mai”) as if the act of it is shameful.

Not that we make fun of him, maybe he is starting to develop his own self awareness and image (self respect?)

For now, I will still laugh at him. It’s okay if he develops a complex surrounding pooping. Having a complex surrounding pooping is okay compared to “performance anxiety” surrounding peeing, at the men’s room urinal.

Heh.

One day she came up to me all serious and asked “Daddee, am I tall?”

“Yes darling, you are considered tall for your age. Why?”

“I heard Grandma and Mummee telling their friends and say that I am tall.. and I don’t like when they laugh at me..”

“They are not laughing at you; why would you think that?”

“….”

“It’s ok, maybe even good, that you are tall for your age. You know how you are in Pre-3 class where your friends are at least more than a year older than you?”

Nods.

“Well, even though you may be the youngest there at least you are not the shortest.”

“I guess… but I don’t like it when they laugh at me..”

“They are not laughing at you, they are just saying that you are. Well, now that you are tall, don’t you think that it’s good, that you can reach for things by yourself now? You can almost touch the light switches now when you jump, wash your hands now without a stool, you feet now being able to reach the ground when you cycle?”

“I guess…”

~~~~

Years ago when I was an adolescent I remember a conversation my parents had with Dr Pixie. I can’t recall how the topic was brought up, but it revolved around someone who was still quite short for his/her age, and Dr Pixie said there was something- either a shot or taken orally (hormones?) that can assist this kid in a growth spurt.

“Wouldn’t that just make him grow faster, rather than taller (eventually)?” I asked.

Dr Pixie looked at me, almost looking glad that someone asked that. “Good question” she said readily, “that could very well be the case- yes”- to which my brother gave me a thumbs-up “Can be a doctor!”

Dr Pixie proceeded to offer that ultimately it was still one’s genetics that determined a person’s height.

I am happy that Caitlin is tall for her age- she is not too tall, just that she therefore appears older than her age. Call me discriminating, but I’d prefer her to ultimately be an average height woman. I have seen really tall ladies and I do know they have trouble finding men!

Would I personally be intimidated about dating a taller woman? Possibly. I say this because I suppose I’d never approached and chat up anyone taller than I!

There’s something I just revealed about myself; well we also know that I am not a doctor, as much as I’d like to be

Since Caleb’s arrival, and since we are unsure about our medium-term plans, we have not invested in re-arrangements of rooms and sleeping plans; or even continued looking for places to buy – Caleb had simply taken over Caitlin’s bed turned (back) into a cot, and Caitlin started sleeping in our bed with us- between us! We have a super-king-sized bed so it’s actually not that crowded.

Obviously this isn’t the ideal nor near-term solution, so we had to do the hard thing of starting Caitlin to sleep by herself in the other room (harder for me!)- there is another double bed there from my previous life

The other main reason is also that our room is air-conditioned. We’ve found that it is that that’s causing Caitlin’s recurring and persistent coughs; and if you’ve been reading here lots, you’d know that when she gets into a coughing fit, puking is usually “followed through”. It’s never a friendly household when there’s puke on our super king sized bed.

And honestly, since she’s started sleeping there, her coughs are few and far between.

So, being so attached to me has its big downside. It’s been just over a month now that Caitlin’s been sleeping there at nights. Most nights she’s been waking in the middle of the night asking for me, on the real pretext of needing to pee. Sometimes she’d also wake from screaming, requiring some Daddee comforts to go back to sleep. When there happen it’s somewhat laborious- we insist she locks her room, and we lock ours too (we have the key to her room). So she’d have to knock and wake us when she does this.

“Good nights” are when she is dead tired from the days’ activities; either we were out doing something physically active, and/or that she’d missed her daytime naps and just knocks off into deep sleep quickly.

Lately, we’ve been coaching her to make her own toilet breaks. A main “obstacle” from before was that she wasn’t tall enough to reach the toilet light switch. This week I’d noted that she is just tall enough now, with the aid of a step-stool. I made a positive hoo-ha about it, and so far she seemed quite proud of that ability.

From a personal Daddee perspective, this is a bittersweet milestone. Hot Mummee is keen for them to quickly be independent, whilst I am one to indulge in their natural stages of growth. I don’t/didn’t look forward to Caitlin’s flailing limbs smacking me/us in the middle of my sleep, but I sought comfort from her being next to me, from a parent’s perspective as well as knowing she is okay, safe, and that she feels the same too.

Yes, Caleb is now sleeping in the cot in our room. So far, as far as I can tell, there is no jealousy from his jie-jie. We’ve been advocating that this is a grown(ing) up thing to go through.