DNA Tan

Fruit tarts and Baileys Banana Cake

Mummy wanted to bake something to welcome Daddy back from his jungle night stay so this was it. Using the same recipe from the egg tarts, Mummy replaced the egg pudding with mixed fruits instead. Donovan was really keen on the canned longans and he finished almost half a can of them before Mummy could make use of any in her tarts. Daddy always fancies banana cake above anything else but Mummy had baked quite a few of that already. This time, Mummy added Baileys, the coffee wine to make it taste a little different.

While Daddy's away...

Mummy had been feeling jittery these few days. There were contractions-like cramps, severe backache, intensifying lethargy and the fear that labour may start anytime when Daddy isn't around. Daddy had to serve his reservist for his country for the Nth time and therefore couldnt be around most of the time to attend to Mummy and the boys' needs so Mummy had to play both roles.

What was challenging to Mummy was the task to bring Donovan to and fro school everyday via public transport. Mrt and buses were a novelty when we bring him once in a while. However, to vie for standing space with the morning office crowd is really a test of Donovan's patience. Never mind the fact that hardly anyone ever offered a seat to a pregnant Mummy with a hyper tot, but it was actually Donovan who was making Mummy's life miserable by throwing tantrums over little things. He would get upset if there are too many passengers on board thereby blocking his window view, or obstructing his circumference of free space to swing in circles while holding the pole, or simply when the sun's rays are shining at his face.

There were also days when we got to school peacefully but Donovan would request for breakfast at a nearby coffeeshop before reporting to school. The problem starts when he ordered something then refusing to eat it. Does this sound familiar to most parents? Or am I the targeted loser Mummy here? Then he'll start complaining that he doesn't want to eat this and that, leaving me in a pendulum state thrown from anger to desperation.

Sometimes when I look at my boys, especially after I have scolded them, I felt a twinge of guilt. They are young and curious, bold and adventurous, naughty and demanding. But shouldn't all kids be like that? Why should I deprive them them of a rightful childhood just because they have done something out of my expectations? It should have been MY FAULT for not including those behaviour under my expectations and therefore conveniently blaring at them everyday.

But I'm glad I have boys. Cause at the end of the day, they will still remember to tell me that they love me, especially Donovan, who will ask me,"Mummy do you love me?" Then he'll spontaneously reply,"I also love you." That's what makes me melt.