Eating Fugu

The children have a favourite episode of The Simpsons.  Namely, when Homer eats a Blowfish at a Japanese restaurant that has been cooked by someone not trained in the dangerous art of cooking Fugu.  Anyway, he has 24 hours to live and Dr Hibbert runs through the four emotional stages of coming to terms with this news.  It was something along the lines of 1.Anger.  2.Denial.  3.Desperation  4.Grief  quickly followed by paralysis and death.

After the last couple of blogspots guffawing about life in Singapore,  I think I am honestly at stage 1 if not 3.  I am hoping I don't get to paralysis and death before the kids start school otherwise life for my family could become tricky, logistically speaking.

One discovers a great deal about oneself when out of the usual routine.  I think I have learned very quickly that I am not so good with endless amounts of free time and nothing to do.  Not that I am crazy to fill that time as I am inherently lazy and the humidity here makes my laziness tenfold.

Summer breaks were not so difficult back home.  Mainly because there were activities for the children that stayed constant and you simply built all your free fun time around those constants with trips out, time spent with friends and of course throw a family holiday in there somewhere along the way.

I think I am having a full day circadian dip having been out and about over three consecutive days with the children which is very tiring in this climate.  We have had good fun, although I think exhaustion was setting in yesterday when my husband started shouting at the staff about the lack of chips on our plates at Jurong Bird Park.  Fair enough I say, after spending $50.00 on three burgers.  We didn't actually feel like eating all the chips when we were given extra after all the yelling, but had to on a matter of principle.

We are in week four of our time in Singapore and following last week's rudeness, I am at Stage 1 of death by fugu poisoning: Symptoms of anger.

Yesterday, we decided after all the stress of this year we needed a short break.  Just a long weekend escape from Singapore where we can relax, swim, vegetate on a beach while the kids paddle and we can snorkel.  The choices around here are endless.  Bali, Thailand, Malaysia and countless little islands that are a short plane or boat ride away.  I spent about three hours trying to find somewhere for us to go and by the end of my search I was ready to throw the laptop over the balcony and decided I didn't want to go anywhere on this damn continent because I hate beaches. (This is not true as we have spent our last two holidays in the Caribbean) and my wanderlust is at fugu poisoning stage 6.  Dead!  This might be true but should be recoverable.

Anway after losing control of my laptop and my senses we decided perhaps to wait and not go anywhere until the October half term holidays.  This does make sense as travelling in August is pretty stupid given it's peak season and we can go to any of these islands at anytime.  Also, I think trying to organise holidays when we still have not found our routine in Singapore is probably a bit foolish and is the main reason I am feeling so frustrated.

It is amazing how little a home is a home until your crap is in it.  And how I long for all my crap, which is literally on a slow boat to China and should be arriving at the spooky container ports in Singapore at the beginning of August.

I am no Delia but without my pots, pans and essential Le Creuset I have no idea what in the heck to cook.  The wet markets are wonderful but other than 50 Shades of Pak Choi and some vegetable that I can only describe as a snozzcumber, I am struggling with my greens.  Fruit is easy peasy lemon squeezy.  Fish is simple and cheap but cooking anything from back home, just to have a bit of a break from the wonderful local cuisine takes a lot of effort and expense.  All of these small trivialities are getting my panties in a bunch. 

Furthermore, until the children are in school I am really not going to find my mojo and when I say mojo I mean that strut in your step that you have as you walk to the shops while the soundtrack of your life plays in your head.  Most likely "Stayin' Alive".

My annoyance is really compounded by the fact I have the children in tow.  Sadly for them, they are having to get dragged around every wet market, supermarket, shop and foodhall and being 4 and 6 they complain incessantly, that everything is "stinky".

I was an outstanding Mum in that I spared the kids any trips to the supermarket or shops with me in the UK. Never did they have to trail behind me as I squeezed avocado's and sniffed mangoes, a decision that I now regret as they are making every shopping trip out rather trying.  As a result, I am not shopping at the wet markets or supermarket very often and our fridge only contains two jars of jam, some potatoes, olive spread and milk.  Not a great improvement  from our first week in Singapore!

All our eating is done at the hawker centres locally which are fantastic but still a fifteen minute walk up and down a big hill which they of course do not enjoy because the end of the journey does not end with lego but instead some pontian noodles that I force them to eat in exchange for some melted moam stripes.

My short term misery reminds me of a conversation I had with the admissions lady at the children's school two weeks ago.  We discussed the fact that we would not have a car in Singapore and she said, "It is hard without a car because you do feel like your wings have been clipped".  When I think back to that comment I think she was trying to make me cry as it reminds me of the freedom I had back home being able to drive.  That said, we will not be getting a car so I will just have to suck it up and public transport around here is excellent and cheap.  I think I am still in my Brit mindset that it is far too la-di-bloody-dah to be taking taxi's everywhere.   

Anyway, I am sorry to use this blog as therapy but I am having a bit of a dip.  I am really confident that I will be back to my old positive self once our shipment arrives and the kids start school so I have a routine and a purpose again.  I think in fairness, by the end of three weeks, even in the UK most parents are ready to see the back of their little darlings. 

Trying to find more positives, I have just eaten some amazing black pepper beef hor fun noodles and that seems to have temporarily fixed my mood.  Of course, all this public moaning could be due to the fact it is Monday.

We are having a nothing day today and I will take the kids off somewhere again tomorrow.  I don't think kids should have to be entertained all the time but it is hard for them to entertain themselves without very many of their things with which to play.

My little boy has spent this morning asking me to smell his feet every few minutes and my daughter I know is sneakily using my precious double sided sticky tape in her room.  I am so lacking in energy I don't even have the will to tell her off for stealing my tape and as for my little boy I am just smelling his feet because it is quicker and easier than not smelling them.

I am hoping that I do not progress past the first stage of dying from Fugu eating.  After all, Homer survived.