Herworld blog

Give 'em real food

2011-04-11T00:52:00.000-07:00

Guest blogger Heidi Shamsuddin is a mum of three and founder of Gourmet Goo Baby Food and Dish Deli Cafe (http://www.blogger.com/www.dish.com.my) which serves up wholesome food for the whole family. (http://dishdeli.blogspot.com/)

To be honest, getting my kids to eat healthy food has never been a problem for me simply because I’ve always cooked for my kids and they’re used to eating natural, real, non-processed food. Ok, maybe veggies are a challenge and salad? Just forget about it. According to my daughter Layla, “I’m not a rabbit and I refuse to eat leaves thank you!” (Such sarcasm in one so young….).

What my kids do love to eat is what I call REAL food; meals which are homemade using ingredients in their true-est form (if there is such a word). So today I decided to make my Lemon Roast Chicken – a family favourite. I prefer to bake things as it’s so much healthier (not to mention cleaner) than frying. All to often people take the easy route and fry food for the kids and the effect is that the kids get addicted and used to the taste of fried foods. You could add extra flavours by marinating or even use breadcrumbs to coat the chicken so that you still get that crispy, crunchy texture.

I kind of accidentally stumbled on this recipe when I went through a lemon phase and bought too many lemons. Johan and Layla love to spoon the gravy from the roast chicken over their rice until it threatens to turn into a soupy concoction and my hubby enjoys it too. In fact, the adults usually add a little chopped birds’ eye chilli for that extra kick! Baby Haris who is not even 2 yet also loves this dish although for some strange reason today he refuses to eat it from his own plate and only wants it from my hubby’s plate!

Another thing about getting kids to eat real food is that the whole family must absolutely eat together at the table at least for 1 meal a day. And don’t bother with different meals for the kids and for the adults – who has the time to make 2 different meals eh? When the kids see us enjoying the same food as them, they are more likely to eat it and to try new things.

So here’s the recipe for my Easy Peasy Lemon Roast Chicken. Feeds 2 adults, 2 hungry kids and 1 baby.

1 Whole Medium Sized Chicken – washed and dried

Garlic- 6 cloves unpeeled and left whole

Lemon zest from 1 lemon

Lemon – 1 cut in half Salt and pepper - 1 teaspoon

Dried Thyme – 1 teaspoon (optional)

Yellow onion – Cut up in rings

Potatoes – 2 medium size, quartered

Carrots – 2 medium size, chopped in chunks

For the Gravy:

Water – 1- 2 cups

Flour – 1 tablespoon

Salt and pepper – to taste

Preheat the oven to 200 C. Rub the chicken (inside and out) with salt, pepper, lemon zest and dried thyme. Cut the lemon in half and rub the lemon all over the chicken. Put the lemon and 3 cloves of garlic inside the chicken. Actually you can use as many garlic cloves as you like – because it’s roasted whole in it’s skin, the garlic cooks down into a beautifully mellow flavour. I can easily eat a mountain of roasted garlic just like that but a word of warning, it is not the most sociable thing to do…

Rub some olive oil all over the chicken and place on a bed of onions in a roasting tray. Season the chopped up potato, carrots and remaining garlic with a bit of salt pepper and olive oil and place around the chicken in the tray.
Put the tray in a preheated oven and bake for 10 minutes at 200 C. After 10 minutes, turn the temperature down to 180 C and bake for a further 45 minutes until the chicken is golden brown. There is no need to turn the chicken.
Once cooked, place the chicken on a chopping board and cover with some aluminium foil to rest the bird. This is important because it makes the meat moist. Place the potatoes, carrots and garlic in a serving dish.
To make the gravy place the roasting tin (with the cooked onions) directly on your cooker hob on medium fire and add some water. Use a whisk to scrape up all the juicy chicken-ny bits and add the flour to thicken. Taste for seasoning. I like a smooth gravy so I usually strain the gravy but you can leave as it is if you want. Cut the chicken and serve with the vegetables and gravy with some nice bread or hot fluffy rice.

Unplugged, unwired, disconnect

2011-03-17T18:24:00.001-07:00

I’m not so Amish that I have never used the TV, laptop or phone to entertain E – especially in a time crunch emergency. Let’s be honest: a lot can be done during the half hour that Manny mends something.

But I’m not comfortable with how essential these gadgets and gizmos have become on kids’ play list. So I’m always looking for ways to occupy E with toys that don’t require a plug point or batteries. Blocks, Play Doh, finger painting, colouring, drawing, reading, running around, playing in his plastic pool, chasing birds, picking up leaves...honestly, I’m running out of ideas and Manny is still winning by a mile!

My latest discovery is a plastic version of a Japanese fishing game. The original net is actually made with paper that will disintegrate in the water so kids race against time to scoop out as many live fish as possible.( I know this because they did this once on Amazing Race Asia. It’s ok; my mom is fine with me watching TV.)

I found this in Daiso, and E and I spent the better half of Saturday morning fishing, creating mini whirlpools in the basin and getting wet. For some educational value, I tried to get him to fish by colours, shapes and numbers, but mostly, we just fished for fun.

He managed a half hour on the game and probably could have gone on longer if I didn’t pull him away because he was thoroughly soaked!

Did he learn anything? I don’t know. Is there any use in knowing how to fish floating plastic bits? But I’d like to think manipulating the net helped develop his motor skills and because there was so much risk of mayhem, I was forced to stay put and play with him instead of checking Facebook or reading the papers.

Tomorrow he’ll probably be asking for ‘Hot Dog!’ (that’s code for Mickey Mouse) but today, it’s 1 for me, 0 for the wired world.

It’s the big 2!

2011-03-10T16:09:00.000-08:00

Where did the time go? It seemed like it wasn’t too long ago that I was desperately trying to pacify a wailing baby who had cried for 3 hours non-stop.

And now, look at him! He loves running around aimlessly with mad exuberance, chatters non-stop (albeit in baby language still), knows the alphabets and numbers 1 to 10, and is a super bossy little fellow.

I went into party planning frenzy for his first birthday. 3D cake, cupcakes, party packs, booked up a restaurant, the works! And afterwards, I wondered why I invited so many people, many of whom made the invite list only because they had kids – not because we were even that close! And why all the fuss? E didn’t even know what was going on.

This year, more practical heads will prevail. Forget the sugar-loaded 3D cake that nearly gave me diabetes. Forget a restaurant-based party with proper food; he can only sit still for an hour anyway and I’m still rather strict about his diet. And forget the guest list! He only has 5 friends, 4 of whom are at the babysitter’s – and 1 always bites him (maybe she’s not his friend, hmm....).

But there will still be some fanfare, just at a much smaller scale. We’ll bring cupcakes to the babysitter’s house, let the kids run around in the garden like mad elves for a bit, split the goodies (and let their parents deal with the sugar high later that night) and go home. For a 2-year old, I think that’s equal to the party of the year.

Here, have a look at my ‘mood board’. Well, yeah, I couldn’t resist some level of frenzy.

Choi! Don’t say that

2011-02-23T01:51:00.000-08:00

There is a universal rule that you must never draw attention to something good ‘lest you attract bad luck (or the gods or whatever). I call it the Choi rule.

Here’s how it works:
•Someone says your son is clever. Tomorrow he fails his class test.
•You get a new car and your friends coo over it. It gets scrapped in the car park that night.
•You boast you have a stomach of steel. You get the cirit birit.

You get the picture.

Last month, in a fit of enthusiasm any direct selling agent would be proud of, I start telling my mommy friends my son has not been sick for a while since taking an olive leaf extract supplement (sharing is caring mah). He promptly fell sick for the next two weeks.

Still I persist in my crowing. I’m not very smart that way. I casually mentioned to my husband that for the first time since our son was born I actually met my deadlines! Finally, I didn’t have to creep into the Ed’s room to ask for another extension! Three new assignments landed on my desk the next day.

Don't mess with the choi rule I tell you.

Things I never thought I would say

2011-02-21T15:30:00.000-08:00

More accurately, things my Mom used to say that I never thought I would say:
1.“Because I said so”: This used to drive my sisters and I nuts! Whenever Mom was losing an argument with us, she would shut us out by laying this line. End of discussion.
2. “I’m doing this for your own good”: I always wondered why the things that were for my good often didn’t feel very good. Like tuition classes and piano lessons.
3. “Someday you will thank me”: Really? Someday I will thank you for making me spend two miserable weeks in this camp with horrible kids? B (my sister) will be grateful that you grounded her from her own prom?
4. “I know better”: Even when she didn’t, she did...if you know what I mean.
5. “Too bad”: Nobody could accuse my Mother of trying too hard to please us. She’s unapologetic in her parenting. Don’t like it? Tough. Deal with it.

Romance? Bah, humbug

2011-02-11T22:43:00.000-08:00

The first Valentine’s I celebrated with my husband after we started dating, he took me back to the restaurant where we had our first date. It wasn’t fancy but it was a lovely Valentine’s meal. Well, anything is lovely when in the first flushes of love, isn’t it?

The second year, he cooked me a candlelight dinner complete with a heart-shaped “gourmet burger” (his words, not mine). Totally cheesy but so sweet, right? The third year, he went to the hawker centre near my house to tapau. And so began the downward slide.

At the time, with my eye on the prize – diamond engagement ring, wedding and house – I willingly went along with it. The less he spent on those blood-sucking, opportunistic establishments, the bigger and more scintillating the ring. Or so I thought.

Of course, once you lower your standards, there is no way a smart man will let you go back. And so every successive Valentine’s since have been spent without fanfare. One year we even forgot it was Valentine’s and ended up caught out in the mall with nowhere to eat because there were surprisingly enough suckers to jam up every restaurant and the carpark in One U.

This year, we’re not even going to be together! I made plans to have dinner with a group of friends, three of whom are also married with kids proving the point that marriage and kids really do kill off all any semblance of romance.

So excuse me if I’m a bit of a Scrooge about the whole celebration of love. I hope you have a real romantic one – at least someone is getting some of that Cupid action.

Crazy Asian moms rock!

2011-01-20T15:35:00.000-08:00

By now you must have read Amy Chua’s controversial Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior article in Wall Street Journal. You know, the one in which the Yale Law School professor proudly boasts about calling one daughter garbage for being disrespectful and forcing another to master a piano piece by means that bother on child abuse.

Chua has reportedly received death threats for her extreme views! To be honest though, I found her hilarious and somewhat inspiring. In fact, I’m becoming a bit of a groupie.

Sure the article was a stereotypical piece exaggerated to get a response. But I think we can all see shades of our own mothers in Chua – and we turned out fine.

My mom was a milder version of Chua but nonetheless, a formidable Chinese mother who had her brood well under her control. The cane was wielded not as an empty threat but to make an impression and teach a lesson. Any challenge to her authority was neither appreciated nor acknowledged. Hurtful, so-called self-esteem damaging words were not spared. And yes, she thinks we owe her everything and she knows best.

Was any damage done? Maybe. Do I think it was a good way to raise a child? Not then since I was said child! But now that I’m a parent, I’m not so sure anymore.

It’s a flawed system, I’ll give you that, but underlying this so-called tyranny is love, really. The fact is our parents did right by us when they taught us that life is unfair, that things don’t always go your work, and if you want something bad enough, you should work for it.

I think today’s young parents could learn a thing or two from Chua about getting our balls back and showing our kids who’s the boss!

Welcome to sucker-dom!

2011-01-09T21:28:00.000-08:00

Parenthood is really spelt s-u-c-k-e-r. Because we want the best for our kids, we are easier targets than a bull’s eye on a hippo’s side.

Do you have a stroller Bugaboo, McLaren or Peg Perego? Did you buy a Baby Bjorn or similar type branded baby carrier instead of a sarong? Were you listening to Mozart during your pregnancy so as to stimulate your child’s development in-vitro and unleash the genius in her?

How many ‘developmental toys’ are in your nursery? Do you own at least one set of flash cards? Are Baby IQ, Baby Einstein, Word’s World or such educational programmes in your DVD drawer? Did you read books on teaching your child how to read or mind map?

I’m not mocking you. I’m just as guilty of most of the above. In E’s first year, I racked up a sizeable credit card bill buying things I thought were essential to his health including an obscenely expensive air-cum-mattress-cum-vacuum cleaner (but I totally love it; no regrets there), an air filter and humidifier.

I could have bought the latest Gucci bag and some with what I spent on these three. But I sacrificially ‘invested’ the money into ensuring E would sleep comfortably in a room with clean air, was sufficiently cooled by the air conditioner but not too drying thanks to the humidifier. Yes, seriously!

At the time, these purchases together with a lot more others all made so much sense! Now, of course, they are my dirty little secrets.

I’d like to think I’m a smarter cookie now; that they won’t be able to get to me so easily because I know their tricks.

But, erm, I’m holding onto an art and craft set that’s supposed to help stimulate E’s creativity and imagination, and improve his motor skills – which he absolutely needs if he’s to invent the next Facebook, right?

Auld Lang Syne

2011-01-04T06:00:00.000-08:00

I used to spend weeks agonising about New Year’s Eve plans. This was of course back in the day...much, much younger days. Perhaps it was because I wasn’t particularly happening all year round that’s why I needed to be found doing something happening on the most happening party night of the year!

Clubbing and private parties gradually morphed into BBQ pool parties and then sit-down dinner parties. Much like the slow appearance of wrinkles and southward pull of everything else, this is a sure sign of the ageing process.

Eventually nobody wanted to be cleaning at 2am on the first day of a New Year so it was fuss-free, low-frills tapau meals (even McDonald’s and pizza some years, tsk tsk) and just friends chilling out together – for want of being able to say, “Yeah, I did something on New Year’s Eve.”

But as of 2009, all New Year’s Eve plans had to be canned because just how fun is it to lug a cranky, sleepy baby and a baby bag stuffed with all manners of ‘just in case’ stuff to a party? And spend the whole time either patting said baby to sleep, wondering if he had fallen off the guest room bed or worrying the sound will awaken the slumbering monster who will then become even crankier?

So the last two New Year’s Eve passed as uneventfully as every other night. My state of un-happening-ness (and no, there is no such word) has reached its all-time high with no hope of ever making a U-turn.

But wait! I did do something this New Year’s Eve. My husband and I watched Social Network on DVD, stuffed our face with junk food and then fell asleep before the first strains of Auld Lang Syne started.

Wow wee...not. But hey, at least I can say “I did something on New Year’s Eve.”

My baby is THE cutest baby. No, really.

2010-12-02T19:21:00.000-08:00

All parents are delusional when it comes to their kids. We think they are the cutest, smartest, prettiest, most adorable...fill in your superlative of choice here.

Like all you totally biased moms out there, I think my son is the bee’s knees. I secretly believe he could be part genius. The kid can recognise his alphabets and numbers at 22 months! Surely that must be sign of high levels of intelligence? And he does the dardnest things and says the funniest things! Ok, sorry, I am gushing and showing off under the guise of blogging.

But I’m also a realist. I think my kid is pretty darn cute but in all honesty, he’s not going to win any ‘cutest baby in the world’ contest. Have you seen some of the competition out there? It’s brutal!

Besides, everyone can’t be the cutest baby. Someone has to fill up the middle range. And as long as he’s not scraping the bottom of the barrel, I’m cool.

As far as I’m concerned, all kids and babies are cute. How can something below 3-feet and speaks with a squeak not be cute?? But that’s just me.

The people at babyGap and GapKids are probably a better judge of who are the Miss Universe equivalents in the baby/kids world. And as it happens, they are having a casting call for the new faces of babyGap and GapKids.

So if you believe absolutely, positively that your child is definitely, unreservedly the top baby/kid then I’d say you should hot foot over to The Gardens or One Utama this month for a chance at fame and bragging rights. Click on the postcard for more details or go to the Gap Malaysia Facebook page.

Psst! I must warn you though that Z, my friend’s daughter, and R, another friend’s son, are really the cutest kid and baby around, and they are going for the casting.

Morning mayhem and madness

2010-11-17T19:44:00.000-08:00

Since the arrival of His Eminent Highness, order in the morning has become a thing of the past. And of course when it comes down to his needs versus mine, I lose hands down.

But one can only pull the disheveled chic look so much before the boss starts noticing. So I have had to be very clever about how to cut down the morning beauty routine yet still make it out the door looking reasonably put-together.

There is absolutely no science to this, I warn you. And it might come back and bite me in my wrinkled ass some day but here they are:
• I stick to basics in the morning – wash, moisturise, go. No toner, no exfoliation, no special serums or eye creams. The frills can be saved for the night when there’s time to lovingly pat in the anti-whatever creams and let them do their miracle work.
• Develop a 5-minute makeup routine. It’s not impossible, just takes lots of practice to get things down to a pat. Foundation that blends well, a good set of brushes and cheek powder are my best friends.
• Get bangs. Seriously. I’ve managed to shave another minute of my morning routine since I got bangs simply because they hide hastily plucked and drawn brows. Alternatively – and I’m seriously considering this – get eyebrow tattoos. Just think of the time savings!
• Skip the blow dry. It makes my hair frizzy anyway. I just towel dry, comb and smooth on some leave-in conditioner. Done. If your hairstyle doesn’t allow for this no-fuss routine then maybe you need a new style.

For better and probably more well-researched tips on beauty time savers, check out our November 2011 beauty spread on how to look beautiful on the go, Beauty in a Jiffy; get a sneak peek of this story on our website.

Playing SAHM

2010-11-11T14:26:00.000-08:00

The house went into complete lock down last week because the little one caught the chicken pox bug that’s been going round. That means Mommy – and it’s almost always the Mommy’s job isn’t it? – had to take time off to play nurse-cum-slave.

Like most working moms, I’m always lamenting about how little time I have with my son. But this enforced week of playing stay-at-home-mom (SAHM) has been most revealing. In particular, the revelation is that I can’t be one – a SAHM.

The Prince isn’t angelic by any standards but he’s ok. And thank God, even when afflicted with chicken pox he was mostly manageable. In fact, he probably had more energy and enthusiasm than he normally does – and that’s already a lot!

All in all, I would say we survived the whole ordeal pretty well. We read, we played, we bonded and took naps together. It’s what I always imagined I wanted since he was born. It was a great week but every day? I honestly don’t know where I will find the strength, ingenuity, patience and all those other saintly qualities needed when dealing with a strong-willed 20-month old boy!

So while I envy the league of SAHMs for the quality time they have with their little ones, I’m equally glad to hang on to my job – with a death grip, might I add.

The curse of the working mommy is...

2010-10-28T15:10:00.000-07:00

...a tummy. That unsightly blubbery bulge you have to suck in every time you wear Lycra.

I know officially we tell people it’s a war scar to be proud of. I bore a child/children. “Pregnancy was the most incredible experience I’ve ever had. So I’ll take the stretch marks. I’ll take the sagging boobs. I’ll take the cellulite I can never get rid of,” said Jessica Alba in Self magazine. Sure Jess. And where are those stretch marks and cellulite pray tell? Those? Please!

I love being a mom as much as Jess does but the truth is I would much rather be one without a lower tummy that walks ahead of the rest of me.

My mom was a svelte 48kg with a 23-inch waist line when she married my dad. Then kids happened to her. With each successive child, she kept more of her post-baby weight until she was a 20kg heavier than when she started. I think after that she just thought ‘Screw it’ and gave up.

Now, I swore I wouldn’t let that happen to me. I want to be a yummy mummy – or at least one that looked reasonably palatable.

But 19 months on, I am still looking down at my squishy bits. A desk job and toddler do nothing for your figure, I tell you.

My butt is glued to the chair most days (that’s another body part that is growing its own zip code!). I eat at my desk so I can finish up early to rush home to my son. Dinners are usually after 9pm when the prince has gone to bed. And then it’s bedtime for me too. Which part of this spells weight loss and tight abs?

So I’m resigned to the fact that these bits are here to stay. In fact, I’ve grown quite fond of them. Maybe when the boy goes to college. Then I’ll lipo myself into shape and go on a cruise.

Stop already!

2010-10-18T03:14:00.000-07:00

If I wrote the rules on Facebook, you know what I would ban? Parents – specifically parents who go on and on about their kids.

I can accept it if Junior achieved a significant milestone and you want to share it with the world. First steps, first words, first tooth, graduation from kindergarten (though I totally don’t get that...but ask me again when my son gets to that stage and I may feel differently), passing exams with flying colours, made school prefect...

A period of illness followed by news of recovery are acceptable as are funny anecdotes of the dardnest things she said (a chuckle is always good). The occasional mundane but heart warming post about how much you love the princess is also ok lah – occasional being the operative word here.

Not so ok are daily blow-by-blow accounts of the little bub’s every move. “Oh, he pooped. Oh, he’s turning left and now right. Oh, he smiled.” The painful but honest truth is that NOBODY cares.

If you got nothing interesting to say, don’t say it! Just post up photos or videos and let the pictures do the talking. I promise you, you will get more ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ than all that nonsense rambling. And people will like you more...and maybe even unblock you.

Night out with Estee Lauder

2010-10-12T05:46:00.000-07:00

I've always found The Sultan Abdul Samad building to be beautiful. But last Tuesday it was positively breathtaking as Estee Lauder pulled off an incredible stunt that saw the KL landmark bathed in pink in conjunction with the brand's 2010 breast cancer awareness campaign.

Pretty in pink

Mr. Airique Soo (Managing Director, Hwa Tai Industries Berhad), Mr. Michael Liew (Chairman, Estee Lauder Companies Breast Cancer Awareness Campaign Committee 2010), Mr. Loo Kai Nan (Managing Director, Suria Meriang Sdn Bhd), Yang Berhormat Senator Datuk Maglin D’Cruz (Deputy Minister II of Information, Communication and Culture) and Puan Zuraidah Mohd Said (Chief Executive Officer, Menara Kuala Lumpur)

Dato' Yasmin Yusoff in matching pink

Guests and media (try to spot the Her World team!)

Lovey dovey

2010-09-30T23:30:00.000-07:00

I’ve been married for all of five years so I don’t consider myself much of an expert. Practical person that I am, I’ve never bought into the romance song-and-dance much anyway. I would, in all honesty, be ecstatic if my husband bought me a vacuum cleaner for Christmas instead of diamond earrings! Really!

The greatest love stories for me are those that survive the mundane and dull, the rigours of day-to-day living, the gradual softening of the middle and slackening of everything else. And when life is done with them, they still say it’s been the best ride.

We would be so lucky if my husband and I could have a story like Danny and Annie’s. Standby the tissues before you click here to watch it (http://vimeo.com/12562270).

Fashion victim

2010-09-16T18:53:00.000-07:00

The other day I was caught in traffic behind a woman on a motorbike flashing her b**t crack. And since I was driving, I had no choice but to keep my eyes on the road – and the unintentional flasher. It was a long, long drive.

I’m sure she had woken up that morning, pulled on her jeans, looked herself in the mirror and thought she looked pretty darn good. I’m sure she didn’t realise that her bits and bobs were a mere half inch away from being a public figure. And I’m sure those jeans (a low slung hipster, if I’m not mistaken) were either a size too small or just not the right fit for someone with her...a-hem...assets.

See, but she’s not alone in playing fashion victim is she? Come on, admit it! At some point you’ve been guilty of unwitting indecent exposure like VPL (visible panty line), peeping underwear, too-tight, too-sheer, too-whatever clothes, etc.

Now, I’m no shoe girl. I could get by with five pairs, I think. But I stubbornly wobble around in wedges even though I’ve to carry my 12kg son simply because my calves look fat in flats and sandals. I can’t even begin to tell you the strain this puts on my back but I have refused to give in to the voice of reason.

So really, the best of us fall prey to fashion’s whims and fancies. While I pray b**t crack girl burns those jeans, I shouldn’t be too judgemental – less I trip over my wedges.

Much ado about lists

2010-09-13T19:59:00.000-07:00

I love lists. Well, more accurately, I love ticking things off lists when I’ve done them. Packing lists, to-do lists, shopping lists, things-to-do-before-I-die lists...Scratching something off makes me feel in control, competent, serene. It borders on exhilaration!

It’s sad, I know, that I get my kicks from something so mundane. But with so much to do and each day ending with more things being piled onto my to-do list, completing even the smallest task puts some power back in my hands. For that spilt moment, the overwhelming demands of life seem manageable.

Plus lists make life organised. If you can list it, you can do/fix it. Doesn’t that just ring with hope? Give it a shot. I might have a list addict out of you yet.

Tick Tock

2010-08-04T20:33:00.000-07:00

Is it just me or is there too little hours in a day? I live in a perpetual state of conflict because of the lack of time.

When I’m at the office, I’m missing my son back home. When I’m with him, my mind keeps wandering to mental checklists. At nights I lay awake thinking about things still outstanding on my to-do list. In the morning, I dream of sweet sleep.

I wish I had more time for long, meaningful conversations with my husband, take Mom out for lunch, gossip with my BFF and finally get started on that first season of Glee.

I look at other composed Moms with two in tow and not a hair out of place and can’t help but wonder enviously, how does she do it?

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Just say thanks

2010-07-30T03:18:00.000-07:00

Have you noticed that Asians, and particularly women, are hopelessly incapable of accepting compliments graciously?

“You look great in that dress!”
“This old thing? No lah. I think it my arms look fat.”

“That was a good report.”
“No lah. It could have been better.”

“Your son is so cute!”
“No lah, he’s very naughty one.” (What has being cute got to do with being well-behaved?!)

When my cousin scored a whooping 9 out of 10As in her SPM, I said to my grades-obsessed aunt, “You must be so proud of her. 10As! So smart!” She replied, “No lah, she was just lucky.”

It’s silly, isn’t it? But it is so strongly ingrained in our culture and being that at the first chance of a compliment, we snap into self-deprecating mode. My resolve is to smile or say ‘Thank you’ the next time someone tells me I’ve lost weight (but really I haven’t) or have done a good job (although I know there’s a better story in me).

Don’t break up with your moisturisers yet

2010-07-30T03:13:00.000-07:00

About a month ago, I decided to call things off with my trusty skincare brand of the last five years. Like a relationship that has gone sour, I woke up one morning and found my skin dry and taut. Hoping to literally save my face, I tried a repair serum from the same brand. My skin retaliated by turning hyper sensitive.

In a panicked state, I cleared the bathroom shelves and rushed out to get a new range of products. And when that didn’t work either, I got another brand and for good measure, oral skincare. A few hundred ringgit and about five moisturising essence later, my temperamental dermis finally settled down to its usual self.

Retrospectively, I realise I had committed carnal beauty sins. Like expecting a product to work in three days or produce miracle results immediately. The fact is there are lots of great products but no miracle workers, as Dr. Schultz puts it so succinctly and clearly in this video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQ4rduiq-7I). Take a listen before you break up with your moisturiser or date a new one.

To test or not?

2010-07-30T03:07:00.000-07:00

I remember when I collected my SPM results. I was crushed. I was a couple of As short of my target. But that despondency lasted all of 10 minutes because I had a first date with this guy I had a hugest crush on! What’s my point? That a couple of tests and exams won’t kill our kids.

Instead of abolishing UPSR, PMR and SPM, we should be looking at the education system and perhaps, our own attitude on the chase for As. My Mom had only one requirement of us – do your best. Ok, and maybe, don’t fail. Apart from that, there was no pressure to collect As and outdo Mrs Lee’s daughter. That made taking exams a manageable part of student life.

Besides, if you have read Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers: The Story of Success you’ll discover that success has a lot to do with discipline and rigours of practice and repetition. So if it’s geniuses you want to raise, stick with public examinations. It’ll do him/her good.

Older...and loving it!

2010-06-30T02:29:00.000-07:00

Lately, I’m noticing my conversations with friends are filled with lamentations about getting old. “I used to be able to stay up all night. But now I’m a wreck the next day if I don’t hit the sack by 12am. Getting old lah.” “Went for a jog at the TTDI hill yesterday. I’m getting old! I thought I was going to have a heart attack right there on the hill.”

At 30 plus (and some plus-plus!), we’re no spring chickens. Taut tummies have given way to blubbery mid-drifts. Child birth and/or long hours at the desk with fast food do not help. Cellulite has mysteriously appeared overnight and refused to budge. More wrinkle busting and skin firming potions are taking up residence on the bathroom shelves. And don’t get me started about ‘wings’! (You know, the flabby bits at the back of your arm.)

But 30-something is hardly over the hill (unless you’re 15). In fact, some would say life is just starting. Something about hitting the 3-0 makes you more confident and at peace with life and the world. Things settle down. You learn to let go – or just ignore. Emotionally and spiritually, this side of 30 trumps the other.

Honestly, I’m going to ever be crazy about ageing but I’m learning to view it through zen-tinted glasses. Besides, if Desperate Housewives, Sex and the City and my handful of fabulously 40 friends are to be believed, women are indeed like wine – the older, the better.

That’s just not very me

2010-06-30T02:25:00.000-07:00

I’m sporting sparkling blue toenails at the moment. I’m really more of the conventional red, pink or brown type of girl. But my sister, B, pooh-poohed at them. And against my better judgement, I listened.

You see for the longest time, I took my style cues from B and I guess old habits are hard to shake. She basically coordinated my wardrobe from the time I was 15 to my early working days. I had experimented on my own, of course, but whatever she chose always looked better and garnered more praise. So why rock the boat right?

Then one day we were standing in a changing room, staring at the mirror and I suddenly realised, B’s fashion direction just wasn’t working out. B is a Carrie meets Samantha. I’m a cross-between Miranda and Charlotte. It was never meant to have a happy ending.

I left my guru on her hill and for better or worse, fumbled about until I found my own style. Sometimes I feel I’m still fumbling but at least I’m discovering my own voice. Besides, B got married and moved away. I couldn’t possibly ring her at 7am in the morning to discuss wardrobe options (she would be busy picking out her husband’s tie and shirt combo anyway).

I suppose I could remove the blue polish but then again, they are a reminder that while it’s ok to ask for opinions, one should always know what works – and doesn’t – for one’s self. Besides, it’s kind of cute.

The parenting divide

2010-06-30T02:21:00.000-07:00

There is a gross misconception that parents are snobby elitist. That we go around purposely excluding non-parents with our ‘war’ stories about breastfeeding, sleepless nights, teething woes, diarrhoea dramas and what-have-yous.

The truth is it’s the non-parents who are cutting us out. My friends make plans to catch the latest movie – at midnight. Or they say we should do a girls get together – in Bali. “They don’t get that everything we do is four times the cost and hassle,” laments Chrissy, a mother of two, about her non-parents friends.

It’s not we parents except our non-parents friends to stop having fun just because we are now saddled with strollers and diaper bags. But hey, once it a while, couldn’t we lunch at a kid-friendly place where they give out crayons and activity sheets? That would be nice.

And trust us; we don’t always want to talk about school, discipline problems and where to score the cheapest milk powder or diapers. It’s just that you non-parents won’t let us get a foot into your fabulous, fun and free lives.

So cut us some slack won’t you? Lunch at Marmalade this Sunday? I’ll bring my own crayons.

City slicker

2010-06-30T02:13:00.000-07:00

Last week, I discovered my quotient for the great outdoors is zero. The epiphany came to me in the middle of a durian orchard where my husband was undergoing his durian pilgrimage (non-religious and entirely self-imposed). We stayed in situ because he wanted to be enveloped by the scent of durian at all times and stuff his face with the King of Fruit all day. It’s a thin line between torture and pleasure.

I should have been invigorated by the fresh air, breathtaking view and wholesome living. But my every waking moment was spent obsessing about...bugs. I swear an entire colony of ants was living in the room with us! No matter how diligently I swept, I would still wake up to find ants busy going about their ant day.

“It’s an orchard. What did you expect?” said hubby in between designer durians with names as peculiar as their scent.

I wasn’t always like that. I used to be quite the nature lover. My ‘Things to do before I die’ list includes climbing Mount Kinabalu, snorkelling in the Great Barrier Reef, rock climbing and several other clearly outdoorsy pursuits. Heck, I was even excitedly planning on taking my son for a home-stay programme when he’s old enough.

But as the durian orchard experience shows, I’m a hopeless city slicker too accustomed to the comforts of convenience. When on holiday, I want buffet breakfast with five different types of breads, in-room wifi, plush blankets, room service and all the usual trappings of hotel/resort living.

The home-stay is definitely out. But maybe Mount Kinabalu and the Great Barrier Reef are still possible – as long as there is a Hilton I can crawl to at the end of the day!

Me, a kiasu parent?

2010-06-11T03:35:00.000-07:00

I’m a kiasu parent. There. I’ve admitted it.

I always imagined myself to be a relaxed, what-ever-will-be type. The one who gives her child plenty of room to grow, explore and discover at his own pace. The one who wouldn’t sit through homework with him, pack his school bag and read up his curriculum before he does. No, I would be too cool for that.

But I’m not. My son is just 14 months and I’m already comparing him to his peers. “Joshua can count, you know,” I tell my husband. “And Pei Sze is doodling. How come our son isn’t doing these things yet?” I fret. Am I doing something wrong? Not giving him the right milk? Not spending enough time teaching him the finer things of toddlerhood?

Who is this crazy Mom-zilla? And when did I become her? Help!

To your hair stylist be true

2010-06-11T03:33:00.000-07:00

For me, fidelity to my hair stylist is right up there with the Golden Rule. Admittedly, it is not always easy to find the one stylist you want to give your hair to forever. I’m one of the lucky ones. I have my Danny. We have such a secure relationship that I don’t even need to tell him

what I want done. I just sit, grab a magazine, sip on my cup of Chamomile tea and let him work his magic. I never know what to expect – Danny loves to experiment – but I always leave looking and feeling like a kabillion.

It wasn’t always like that though. I spent many years ‘dating’ all kinds of frogs in the hair world. My fault. I met my prince back when we were both free of greys and weighed quite a few pounds less. But the folly of youth led me to wander. I flirted with many but none knew my hair the way Danny did. After enduring yet another ghastly hair cut, I decided to go back to Danny with my roots showing. Danny, God bless his soul, took me back without fuss even though we both knew I had cheated.

My cheating days are behind me now. To my Danny I will be true because the right hair stylist is like the right man or a best friend – irreplaceable.

Mr. Right Now will do too

2010-06-11T03:29:00.000-07:00

Sara called last night to tell me that things are off with what’s-his-face. Technically, they were not dating so it isn’t a break up per se. But functionally, it might as well have been a six-month relationship – the dates, the fights and make ups, the long conversations late into the night. But what’s-his-face claimed he only thought of her “as a very good friend.” Whatever.

There are definitely more misses than hits when you date in your 30s. The men are either commitment-phobic or bogged down with issues and baggage (that you don’t want to deal with). Or there’s just no chemistry even though he is an absolute sweetheart. Or there are sparks aplenty...but he only wants to be your ‘sister’ not your soul mate. (Ok, sometimes it’s the women’s fault too.)

Are all the good ones really taken? I am sometimes tempted to think so. But then a wedding invitation will come from someone who had found love later in life – and in a most unexpected, romantic way that it makes you want to believe in love again. So maybe there is hope yet, Sara.

I peep over at my slumbering husband. The shining armour has long been traded in for the most unsightly T-shirts. Instead of taking me out for dates, he offers to check in on our son at 3am so I don’t have to. The flowers and gifts? They stopped even before we got married. But I’m still glad we had the last 10 years together. And that we didn’t have to sift through the complexities of dating in our 30s to find each other.

Now, excuse me while I go wipe the drool before it stains the pillow cases, again.

New kid on the blog

2010-06-11T02:18:00.000-07:00

“Eva, do you want to take over the magazine’s online mediums – blog, FB and website?” the boss asked a month back.

What? On top of my current work load?! How do I feign gratitude for this “tremendous opportunity” but really, no thanks? Mind reader that she is, the boss beats me to it. “It will be a new position. You’ll be the new Online Editor for Her World.”

Of course, I said yes! So here I am. Paid to trawl Facebook (and spy on others!), pass of idle Internet surfing time as ‘research’ and ramble, rant and rave. Don’t hate me because I’ve got a great job.

Love For Luxury

2010-04-01T02:08:00.000-07:00

I can hardly deny that I myself have fallen victim to the obsession with designer goods, especially when it comes to bags and shoes. We can’t help it if our hearts skip a beat when we step into these luxury brands like Chanel, Fendi, Louis Vuitton, Gucci, or Ferragamo, just to name a few. You would think that even during these hard times and bad economy, brands like Hermes would be making losses. But instead, just last year, their sales moved up by almost nine percent! The power of a Birkin still lives on I say! What is it that still makes women cut back on groceries and other expenditures, just so they can save on designer goods? Are these ‘investment pieces’ women splurge on really for self satisfaction or to get noticed?

Doing things that make you happy

2010-04-01T02:07:00.001-07:00

There are certain things about life that evoke happy childhood memories. How far would you go to relive these memories, even if it meant doing things like eating cotton candy in public at a bus stop, and you’re already 50?

Making Time For Me

2010-04-01T02:03:00.000-07:00

Try to put exercise into the average person’s schedule and they’ll say, “I don’t have enough time.” Try to put ‘me time’ into the average person’s schedule, and they’ll say, “What’s me time?” ‘Me time’ refers to time for oneself to participate in activities that you enjoy, that provide you with peace and happiness, and awaken your senses. “No, I don’t think I have time for that.” Do you think ‘me’ time is necessary or is it a waste of, well, time? Share your thoughts.

Coming To Terms With Aging.

2010-04-01T02:01:00.001-07:00

A while back I bumped into a former uni mate. He had gained quite a bit around the middle, and his hair was thinning. My first thought was, wow, we're getting old. I don't feel like I look very old yet, but I do have some gray hairs, and wrinkles around my eyes. I've also noticed that it takes cuts and scrapes (and mosquito bites) longer to heal than it used to. Are you comfortable with growing older or are you doing something to preserve your youth?

Is organic food really organic?

2010-03-18T02:08:00.000-07:00

Most of us assume that organic food is the healthier choice with all the hype and things you read. But do you really know what organic means? A growing number of people are willing to pay premium price to eat what they consider to be superior products, especially when it comes to providing healthier alternatives for their babies. But take a closer look at the ingredients of a bottle of baby food in an organic store and you’ll be surprised to find even those contain preservatives and additives that are clearly known to have negative long-term effects on our body. So how much healthier are organics foods really are for you? And how many percent of it really is so called organic?

Age Appropriate Dressing…Boring?

2010-03-18T02:05:00.000-07:00

Just because you are getting older does not mean that you have to dress in drab and boring clothing. But, you are getting older and it is no longer appropriate to dress in the same clothes as students in high school. You can still be fashion forward while dressing age appropriate. What are you comfortable dressing in at your age?

Saying ‘No’ Is Great!

2010-03-18T02:02:00.000-07:00

Great organisations are defined by what they say no to. The same is true for great individual careers. A great career is one where the individual made the type of contribution he or she believed was the optimal use of his or her talents, passions, and values and generated the types of desired outcomes that he or she wanted. In other words, the person generated both the desired input and output. Manifesting such a career requires saying yes to a few key opportunities and saying no to a huge number of good, and possibly great, opportunities. What are your thoughts on the matter?

Does your ring tone really reflect your professionalism?

2010-03-18T01:57:00.000-07:00

You’re in a meeting with the big shots of a corporate company. Then suddenly someone’s hand phone starts to ring. What’s worse about having to put up with an annoying ringing hand phone, is having to put up with an annoying ringing hand phone that has a Doraemon/ Akon’s I Wanna Love You OR Smack That song blasting out from its speakers. Would you say that hand phone ring tones reflect your professional value?

Danger On The Escalator

2010-02-01T19:42:00.001-08:00

A young relative of mine had his left foot caught in an escalator last Saturday. He’s only three but had to endure excruciating pain for an entire 40 minutes before paramedics managed to release his foot. This happened at Centerpoint in Bandar Utama as his mother held his hand, ascending the escalator. His tiny foot had stood too close to the back of the escalator wall, that it was pulled ankle-first into and crushed in between the horizontal and diagonal surface of the mechanics. He was rushed in an ambulance to the Damansara Specialist Hospital where doctors performed surgery to stitch skin and flesh, and align his foot back into place. Three bones had been broken. Young and feisty Abdullah was lucky no tendon was damaged. Doctors say he will walk again in three to four weeks. What could have caused the accident and what could have prevented it? Do we ban young children on escalators or do we review the shoe model to see if the fabric had indeed caused the accident to happen? Hundreds of cases of have been reported in the US and Japan about young children experiencing escalator mishaps. And they all had one thing in common: they were wearing the same shoe brand. Reason to question style and brand name over safety and regulations? It’s about time.

Young At Heart

2010-01-27T19:42:00.001-08:00

How far should you go to look younger, feel younger? Or should we embrace aging gracefully and face come what may? Share with us your thoughts and personal experiences about having to act your age (or not) with regards fashion, beauty and general outlook on life!

My Bit For The Community

2010-01-27T18:47:00.000-08:00

We all try to give back to society but in what way? Is it about giving donations or more about giving time and effort? Is it about being chairman of a shelter home committee or about getting your hands dirty dishing out food at soup kitchens? Do share with us your views and experience where charitable deeds are concerned.

Her Say or His?

2010-01-27T18:35:00.000-08:00

Decision-making in a relationship: To watch Oprah or ESPN? Whose hometown are we going back to this festive season? Who’s car to sell off in order to get a bigger car? How do you arrive at a decision when there are differing tastes/opinions/commitments in a relationship? Share with us your views and tell us how you find a compromise.

In The Name Of My Career

2010-01-27T18:16:00.000-08:00

What would you compromise as you’re climbing up that corporate ladder? Family roots, relationship, house and home, lifestyle etc. What would be your priorities and where do you draw the line when you’re just about to break through that glass ceiling? Let us hear your opinion.