Many thanks to all the friends who smsed/ called me, apparently worried by my uncanny online silence. Not to worry, I have not been abducted by the gahmen gremlins or chopped up into cha siew bao by fugly women, no thanks to my potty mouth.

What could have torn me away from my usual diet of verbal acerbism, you wonder? Well, the little munchkin had been taken ill. She had persistently high fever for two days despite my frenzied efforts at sponging and nurofen/ paracetamol and had to be warded for tests to probe further. It transpired that she had upper respiratory infection, brought by some nasty virus. And some other kiddo at her school also had it so I am assuming that either one passed it to the other.

It was a real scare for me because she was like, never that ill before. Yeah, a little sniffling here and there but nothing major. Guess it might have been due to my *ahem* still breastfeeding her despite her grand old age of 33 months. And I must say, she had been pretty active despite her high temperature of 39-40 degrees. Even the paediatrician was rather surprised. He mentioned that normally kids with high fever tend to look rather stoned (in his words! haha!) and fatigued. And my baby also didn’t morph into a horrible spoilt monster that sick kids normally evolve into. So proud of my baby. But still, overnighters at hospitals are never fun, especially with nurses popping in and out, with temperature checks and medicine feeds.

So alrighty the little munchkin is up and bouncing now, thank God. She is back to her incorrigibly cute munchkin ways and even entertained me with a line from “Don’t Cha” just now. Hmm, don’t ask.

More shocking news.

I have quitted. I just knew I couldn’t hold out. It’s like, I am just not cut out to work for others, and besides, I have always been afflicted with this chronic niggling guilt whenever it comes to my kids. I just don’t have it in me to be a career woman, neither do I have blazing ambitions of any kind. (Bimbo, remember?) Neither do I despise or condemn working mums. It’s just that they have different priorities and outlook in life, and hey, I think the same old tired debate of working mums versus stay home mums is just well, tired. If you want to work, work. If you want to do the kiddo thing, do it. And anyone who verge on the point of being judgmental or mentally constipated……….. well, let’s just say I have had enough of these people and I choose to stay away from their negativity.

So…….. that means I am putting the word out that I am doing freelance writing again, reviving old contacts and doing the bohemian juggling once again. And God is always good to me, and I have been blessed with an account with a monthly retainer, for starters. And if you have anything to pass on/ recommend/ refer, please do. Yes, I am thick skinned, but you all know me. *peals of laughter*

Homewise, what will happen is this: Germaine goes to school in the morning and that means five hours of “Geanyne” time for us to chill out and do kiddo stuff. When Germaine comes home from school, we will walk Geanyne to school together, where she can do her “socializing with other kids and proper pre-school curriculum” thing. Which means Germaine can spend a few hours doing her home assignments and I can do my thang. Thereafter, we can do our girlfriend routine of movies/ swimming/ shopping/ whatever.

Technically it sounds great but implementation might cough up glitches. Ah well, we’ll see.

On another note, Germaine has also been transferred to another class, where the pace is faster, so the teacher is hoping that it is more in line with her academic development. Apparently, her form teacher has found 0ut that she had been wildly bored (!) as, accordingly to her, the pace in her class is too slow. The smug little mug. I hope that she will be shocked out of her wits when she is placed in a class where everyone is as smart, if not smarter than her. Humph. I know that sounds wicked, especially when coming from her mother, but hey, this is me, and not some fawning self deluded mother blind to all their children’s faults.