I punched the wall

Just when I start to relax, something else happens.


Yesterday doctor's appointment (for James) had an entourage.  Today it was just for me* (Dad drove). 

I return home to find mom's used her time here to start throwing things out again -- my things.  Yes, they were dead plants.  Yes, I was planning on doing it anyway.  But it was to be ON MY OWN TERMS!  

Me: I am so ANGRY!  I could start breaking things! ARG!  

Mom: Have you gone crazy?! 

Me: Yes, I am crazy!  Crazy enough to show up at your house and start throwing things out and rearranging your life!  

And then I hit the wall.  

Which of course accomplished nothing. 

One nice thing: all this adrenaline is making me feel more awake and alive than I have in ages.  But the energy is mostly fueling these thoughts: If I don't do some thing, things are going to happen to me (again and again).  More vigilance.  I can't rest, or everything will be turned upside down again. 

My things are the only tangible things I have control over (since eating, sleeping, things I do in the house, going out -- are all monitored, supervised). And, I don't even have that. 

I don't know how to prove that this isn't crazy.  I want to cry.

I know I wouldn't hurt James.  But it seems I can't guarantee the same for myself (i.e. my hand hurts).

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*My (approximately) six week checkup.  It's funny my last obstetrician appointment would actually be the first with the doctor assigned to me.  Dr. Sacks was just covering for her mat leave.

Some people are jerks

Two of our sunflowers have been decapitated!  All that hard work and potential gone!

I'm angry and sad.

"They" also took / vandalised Erica's.

She tells me how as kids, she and her sister did that once too (cut off other people's sunflowers).  But they felt so guilty she went back and tried to duct tape them back on.

Well, I hope whoever did it to us feels guilty too.  Hrmph!

I can't think of a way to protect the other two.  :(

Returning Home: The Quest

"What happened?  Did hurt your foot kicking someone's butt?"

I surprised myself by laughing at the bus driver's joke.  Actually, I'd managed to kick my own butt, several times in my "quest" to get home.

My first day back at work (end of last week) actually went pretty well.  I'd timed things reasonably, got (and probably missed some) buses, and waited patiently for the connections while others waited patiently for me. It took longer, but I did get home at a reasonable time.  Basically, I managed.

Today, however, was all a mess. 

The long version: I arrived at Colesium transit centre, saw Bus A waiting at its stop (located at the far end from the LRT entrance), hobbled toward it, covered more than half the distance before it drove away.  I go back to the LRT station entrance to check the schedules and wasn't too worried, Bus B would come soon enough (and was right at the LRT station entrance).  But Bus B didn't appear.  A little later, I see another Bus A.  Again, I dash for it, but again, before I actually make it to its stop, it drives away.  Not much time to think on it, for I see the late Bus B pass me to get to its stop, and as I raced for it, it drove away too.  ARGH! 

The short version: I criss-crossed the transit station multiple times, missed a lot of buses, got really frustrated, and just wanted to cry. 

Then, thankfully, I caught Bus C*'s driver's eye and he waited for me to get to his stop and get on.  He also let me off at intersection between bus stops so that I'd have a shorter walk home. 

At last, more than an hour and half later than expected, I was at home.  I didn't feel triumphant.  I was just exhausted, hungry, and in pain.  And then annoyed... and then guilty: I'd answered the phone and it was Mom saying how I had made her worry because I wasn't home and hadn't called... and I snapped at her. 

I guess the positive from all this is that at least I didn't cause a car accident like last Friday**. 

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* Only to find out afterwards I was really lucky: Paul had never taken Bus C to get home, I'd mixed up the bus numbers of another he'd recommended.

** I was waiting to cross a four lane street to get to my parents' house, when Car 1 in the near lane stopped to let me cross.  I started crossing, but cars in the far lane were just zooming by.  Cars behind Car 1 were changing lanes to pass too.  Car 1 started honking until Car 2 in the far lane stopped.  But Car 3 in the far lane didn't, and rear ended Car 2.  Thankfully, no one was hurt.  This is definitely not the way I want to stop traffic. 

Like an Onion

I guess I should be glad that Aunt Linda cares. 

Showed up at Uncle Gary's birthday dinner last night on Mom's arm - this time she was providing support for me rather than the other way around.  A bit embarrassing, but the big snow storm outside meant it was difficult to see, very slippery, and, yes, I admit I needed some help. 

Aunt Linda did the whole "What happened?!"  followed by a "Why so clumsy?"  I laughed it off.  But then she started on Mom.  Not that many words, but enough to speak volumes.  "Why aren't you making her take better care of herself?" and "You should make her X to eat so she'll get better quicker."  The big message seemed to be: "You aren't being a good mom." 

Mom smiled and nodded.  I was not taking it so gracefully and it required force to get myself to sit down and be quiet. 

Great!  Mom's feeling bad.  And I'm feeling bad / guilty about for making Mom worried about me, and (now) for making Mom feel bad because other people think she's not a good mom because of me.  ARGH! 

It was a good thing Paul showed up then.  

Mom wanted us to mingle with my cousins (to build some connections and be more like a family), but the tables were against us.  The prearranged seating had us at different tables.  Not bad, we were still with Celina and Kevin (and we sort of played some games with them), but definitely something was left to be desired.  With the arrangement being, roughly, my Dad's family all together with Uncle Gary and Aunt Linda, and Linda and Gary's children and their families all at another table, I didn't seem that different from a regular dinner out with just our family. 

The ten minute break between dinner and birthday cake was our window to talk to the people at the other table.  Quickly: Introduced Paul to Nora and Joshua (who weren't able to make it to our wedding), found out Donald started a Masters degree in math, 20 seconds of photos of Kathy's new baby girl... And, that was the end of the window. 

Ugh.  I'm such a grump.

Home: Where One Can Choose to be Alone

I am grumpy. I should be grateful and appreciative that people are so nice and they want my vacation to be interesting. But as Mom puts it: We're being herded around like ducks.

After our busy day out yesterday, we were rushed back to Moon Mountain to have dinner with Aunt 5 and more family.  This was a repeat of the wedding banquet (i.e. not as many people who were invited actually came the night before, and so, their meals had been saved for us). 

Half expecting a relaxing day where I can actually check email, write postcards, take a shower... etc, I wake up and start laundry (as usual), but then find out Cousin Ian is picking us up to see some more beautiful sights.  Ugh! 

I don't doubt they'd be beautiful, but I am completely tired and frustrated by my lack of autonomy here:
1. I can't leave the house without a chaperone.
2. Our schedules and activities are determined by others.
3. Mom dictates what I wear.

The last two items culminate to a fuming peak this morning: I am wearing a pair of Mom pants -- uncomfortable and unflattering pants that I know I'll be photographed in. How did this come to be? Well, wherever it is we're going, pants are required, and I, not even knowing we were going out today, had dunked mine into the wash.

Not going is not an option.  Cousin Ian and YingYing are using their precious newly-wed time-off to do this for us (for me - since everyone's apparently already been to one of the sites). 

I'm thinking it was easier when everyone was too busy with the wedding and wasn't trying to be extra nice to me.  At least with that I wouldn't have to feel like I'm a spoiled ingrate or guilty that I just want to be alone and do my own thing. 

Also, Mom continues to complain that I move too slowly, but (as it's been for the most of the trip) I end up waiting for her... And now we're both waiting for the car to come... I could have finished laundry.

Firecrackers, Coconuts, and a Bit of Bubbly Red

"How big is it?  Oh, that's just a small one." 

Did it really matter how big it was?!  There's a cockroach in my nightguard holder! 

After what was actually a pretty pleasant evening catching up with Cousin Ngaw and Cousin Yut*, I was jolted back into the reality of living in an upper level appartment in Moon Mountain - there are plenty of bugs!  Before going to bed, I made sure all my luggage was securely zipped and took extra care in arranging the mosquito netting. 

Still, it was not a restful night. 

(Right: Our restaurant neighbour has a grand re-opening.)

(Below: Posters on the appartment's garage advertise for STI cures.)

It's another auspicious day in a string of auspicious days (apparently it's a good month for weddings).  I've been awaken by firecrackers really early in the morning, but I'd lightly doze until a more reasonable hour to get up.  This past evening / morning was the same... until the doorbell got into the game.  Somehow, somewhere, a string of firecrackers created just the right vibration frequency to make the doorbell ring (an annoying, alarming, high pitched "Eeeeeeeeeee...!") continuously.  Aunt 5 took a broom handle to it, with no effect.  I put plugs in my ears and was almost able to drown it out...

Not sure how Aunt 5 managed to be so chipper after such a night, but she was eneregetic as ever (does she usually get no sleep after 4 a.m.?).  After breakfast, we followed her to the market. 

There we bumped into Aunt 3 with a bunch of coconuts (right).  I asked about them and she told me they were part of tomorrow's gifts to Ying Ying's family.  I thought, maybe, like the lotus seed, they were to appear symbolically (for fertility / many children), but she said "There must be coconuts - without them you can't get married!"  I couldn't tell if she was joking. 





There were certainly a lot of things at the market, but Aunt 5 seemed to know exactly what she wanted (and was in a rush), we didn't really explore. 

As the only two people who didn't really have duties or things to prepare for, Mom and I just tried to stay out of the way.  I took this as my chance to catch up on sleep. 

Late afternoon, Mom and I headed out again.  This time it was just the two of us to a restaurant about 15 minutes walk away. Only a few days in town, Mom's already been invited to a party.  This time, it was a celebration held by a purse factory owner (a family friend?) who was expanding operations and purchased a new building. 

I smiled and responded as Mom told me to.  A few people I recognised from Law Village, but we didn't sit at the same table.  After a few words of greeting, a long string of firecrackers were set off outside - what a dinner bell! 

During dinner, I dove into each dish as it arrived on the table, hoping to pick off a portion before any of the flies in the air contaminated it (just in case, I also swished it in hot water). 

Since no one talked to me, I was able to do a little more observation.  From the talk, it seemed the level of "grandness" of the meal was measured by the different bottles available on the table.  The four being offered included a coconut drink called "Coconut Cow", Sprite, beer, and wine. 

The wine (right) was a not-really-that-dry red most people were cutting with a lot of Sprite.  I was told "this was the way people outside like it".  (Hm... nope... atleast not this outsider.)

There were quite a number of tasty things, but I appreciated dessert the most: Fresh mantou with condensed milk! 

When it came time to leave, I was pleased and amused.  People requested plastic bags from the wait-staff, saying the leftovers shouldn't go to waste - they'd feed it to their dogs.  Along with all the scrappings of the platters, I saw bottles of beer go into these bags.  Maybe their dogs do like beer, but methinks it's all really for the people.  (Agreed, it's not so different from a doggie bag, but it's still somehow funny.) 

Tomorrow is supposed to be another busy day.  Fingers crossed there are no crazy firecrackers and bells, and that I'm not coming down with a cold. 

Sold?!

I was not interested in buying my neighbour's house (could you imagine moving in next door to my parents at this stage in my life?), but I'm still felt disappointed and frustrated when it sold. 

Here's how it went:

Tuesday
I get home from work.  There is a huge "For Sale" sign in my neighbour's lawn (which they got at by digging a big hole in the snowbank)

Wednesday
I get home from work.  A big "SOLD" sticker is on the sign. 

Sure, almost every house I've been interested so far has gone pending by the weekend - but this was less than 48 hours!  This is nuts. 

Garden Vandalism

I had thought it was because of the storm.  But a closer look showed exactly what had happened.  Someone, maybe more than one, had come into our back yard and trampled and pulled out Dad's vegetables.  Auntie Ada and Uncle Johnny were pretty upset too, as whoever it was also went into their garden.  Auntie Ada kept saying "Young people these days have not respect for other people's property...", which I mildly objected. 

In the alley we saw dirt and other uprooted vegetation.  What ever the vandal(s) was looking for it didn't seem to be broccoli or onions - what was the point then in going into a garden?  I guess I would have some sort of sympathy (or feel better) if I thought it was someone who needed and taken food, then there would be some reason behind it.  But it certainly doesn't look like it.  All that was done was damage. 

Dad got me to call the police station.  The person on the line said they really can't do anything.  I could come in to make an official report with the photos, but it wasn't likely that they'd be able to catch anyone.

A footprint doesn't seem to be helpful outside of detective novels and television. 

Speaking too Soon

En route to work I received a frantic phone call: Mom thought I had been kidnapped.

This seems vaguely funny (in a disturbing way), but I have trouble laughing it off. Instead, I was curt, and I feel annoyed. To be fair, it would be very shocking and distressing to find your child missing, and certainly it is unusual for me to not be home at 9:18 a.m. on a Sunday morning,

BUT

Would this be the first thought you have when your child is a mostly-functioning adult?

Also, I did tell her I had to work overtime today and would be home for Father's Day dinner. This was yesterday. Was that too early, too far away, and thus too easy to forget?

I'm trying to see this series of events as

a) Positive: She obviously cares for me very much.

b) Neutral: Misunderstandings happen all the time, things are forgotten all the time; she is no longer distressed, therefore no harm done.

But, I'm veering to the negative: She doesn't think I'm a mostly-functioning adult. This is added proof that she doesn't listen to me... I know I'm doubly-reacting, to this and all the times she's told me to do things exactly as I'm doing them (this is terribly annoying and makes me wonder if I'm invisible), and yelling would be completely out of proportion, being this worked up would be out of proportion.

Regardless, right now, I feel like Cathy, who knows what to do (per self-help books and magazine articles), but by the third panel has to admit defeat again because some little thing Mom does or says makes her blow up. And then come the feelings of guilt (I should treat Mom better). UGG.

I'm sure I'll be just like her when I have kids. And my kids will probably react just like me.

... Being at work is, thus, very nice sometimes. I can look at pretty graphs of things I've done, the progress of I've made (even if it's a drop in the bucket mostly, and will probably be forgotten). And even if there is over time work (UAT) on a Sunday, it will be over soon.