Turning 35

35.

I am now officially for more than a month 3-and-a-half-decades old.

In Rockstar’s words, “Can you remember things Mum? You’re even older than Daddy.” 

“Uh, yeah, by like, a month and 3 days. Why does that even count? Oh, but when you’re ‘3-and-3-quarters’ (in his words – the extra quarter’s really important to the Rockstar) I guess a month is a long time.”

Surly silence. The Rockstar is mildly annoyed.

Before I turned 30...

When I turned 30, as a kind of milestone, I wanted…….. a tattoo. For me, that’s a huge thing. Because when I first started work in Singapore after graduation, someone told me if I got a tattoo it might show up on record somewhere when I did job applications, if HR was annoying enough to dig it up. You have to understand that back then I had just discovered that after changing dorm rooms 3 times in Uni til my Mum couldn’t remember what room I was in, Singapore Immigration still efficiently sent my PR application forms to the right dorm room.

So not that much of a stretch to me back then if they had a record of erm, “identifiable marks” a.k.a. tattoos somewhere on file with immigration too, that could be accessed in the same way your credit record might suffer if you miss credit card payments. Also, a friend once drove across the JB-Singapore border only to be immediately pulled aside because of a parking offence on file that, being away when the letter was sent to his apartment in Singapore, he hadn’t settled. It was unfortunate at the time he had his new inlaws in the car.

Not wanting to further nix my chances (graduating from NTU in what I guess was a “preferable” course, I had also gotten one of those letters from Singapore Immigration that assures you a PR as long as you find a job, and a suggestion to include said letter in job applications – but it was still not easy to get a job in Singapore initially so I could get the PR to begin with, and no I didn’t apply to Mc Donald’s), I thought I’d wait a couple years when uh, my “career” was less tied to the presence or not of a tattoo. If it ever was, I mean.

(I was young ok… I’d lived an adolescence filled with tuition classes, max number of SPM subjects and extra-curricular activities, then straight on to Singapore dorms and lotsa studying and a point system on top of that in Uni to secure a fairly good dorm room (never been a good sleeper, needed to get a quiet room) on campus at the height of “ECA Point Inflation” in NTU before they fixed it – I had like, 188 ECA points in Hall 6 back when they barely had 11 Halls and I’m aware only the Singaporeans who attended local uni have any idea what I’m blathering on about sorry… Basically when I first came out to work I was probably the widest-eyed eagerest beaver of a gofer.)

At my 30th however, I was in Hong Kong. I remember mentioning to one of my RMs’ really cool assistants in Taiwan that I was thinking of celebrating with a tattoo, and getting an email, “Oh, my (senior RM) boss thinks you should get —–.” (Uh, your boss is now in on our tattoo discussion? Huh. What does he know.)

Haircuts were easier. Competing for trades with other private banks, I remember distracting nervous RMs, “If I lose you this deal, I will chop (what’s left of) my hair off into a crew cut. If you get the deal, you will chop what’s left of your hair off into a crew cut.” They laughed. I didn’t let my (has been in Taiwan army, wayyy older than me long, wavy-haired RM) live it down that he never got the crew cut he owed me. (A drink is not fair trade for the crewcut. Not even when it’s an unopened bottle of Rioja I have til today. Speaking of alcohol, one IA team gave me Baileys and a fondue boat as a goodbye gift. Except I didn’t know what it was til I started receiving emailed fondue recipes.)

Darn, sometimes I miss my RMs and IAs. I did love my job so.

But anyway, tattoo. I remember Johnny Two Thumbs in Far East Plaza (not sure if it’s still there), which as a Catholic JC student in Singapore I have been guiltily scoping out for like, forever, and think Ah, Finally I Can Get This Done. But then the inexorable happens. Kings tells me he has a problem with needles so I have to stay tattoo-free because it is a major turnoff.

You know, they should really tell you these things before they ask you to marry them.

Yup This Old Pic of our Vegas wedding when Elvis walked me down the aisle (He is not dead, he is touring in Taiwan)

That was my turning-30 post, lite. Because that was when I didn’t have a blog or a child. Just a husband who didn’t think it was important enough information to share with me, that he doesn’t like ink. I mean if you can get down on one knee somewhere along the highway between Singapore and KL and go, “Will-you-marry-me-btw-this-isn’t-the-real-ring” you can surely fit it in, how you feel about tattoos. But we’ll call it even. It’s possible I forgot to tell him I had a black belt. He is also squeamish non-violence person except for what’s on tv. Then he can watch all kinds of blood and gore and crap.

So here we are at 35.

I thought I would’ve gotten any child-bearing out of the way and be firmly back on the Pill by then. I was prescribed the Pill maybe a decade ago for reasons-other-than-contraception, and have been in and out of gynea clinics since I was about 14.

See how I lightly led you up to here? There is method to the blathering on.

(Oh yeah to play catch up – I was extremely run-down from over work between jobs, had gotten off the Pill to “detox” after maybe 5 years on it consistently. I was waiting to complete a cycle so I could resume my Pill regimen… Except I waited… and waited… but would not restart for 2 years – because I had gotten pregnant with Rockstar.)

The reason I can talk openly about this is because it forms a large part of how we feel about a second child. And our belief that it is up to the Lord, a belief that it was up to Him from the start, it’s just that we don’t know what His will is yet. But that prayer and reflection help us learn, grow and arrive at the places He wants us to be before we are ready for the next step in His plan. Children. Career. Anything. I still fear. But then prayer makes fear of the unknown more bearable.

It is when things come too easy, that we don’t learn to appreciate the wonder of our blessings. Or I believe, enjoy them as much.

Very Young Baby Rockstar Meeting Dog - Note Dog's Slightly Freaked Out Expression, she just wants to scoot away from the noise but we made her stay for a pic

And then sometimes when what you wanted was your next due promotion and to impress at work (seriously, there was a time when my early prayers were things like “Lord, please let me kick butt at work”) and instead He answers your prayers with what you need, not what you want because you thought that was what you needed. 

Well 35 was one of the benchmarks I set years ago. Idly, I figured I would (conveniently) have twins or triplets like, when I was 34, and that would be that. Then back to work. Been there, done that. Well m-aybe a little help from a fertility clinic, just to make sure I have more than one at a time, since I hadn’t budgeted downtime from work for a second maternity period. And since neither Kings nor I have a history of twins or triplets in the family. Oh stopit, I said IDLE thought. I thought very little about family back then. Work plans consumed me. Can you imagine what a giant detour from my “plan” it’s been, to have Rockstar and in the way that I did.

I got pregnant at 30. (You see why it wasn’t in The Plan? 4 years early. As a kind of “coming of age in my career” thing, I was supposed to be having the tattoo at 30. Not the child.)

It’s like you have all these plans and ideas about what you really need for your life, please God, and then as you reach various stages in your life, learn what He wants you to learn/ arrive where He intended, He reveals the weaving little by little.

Next on the list: By 35 – Finish With Any Baby Plans. _________ (Insert check box here.) Except when I actually hit 35, after the unexpected journey of the past few years, I couldn’t bring myself to actively close the door on having another. Because the first has been such a joy.

“Mu-um!!! JD is so fickle! Every time she changes balls! She wants the Tennis Ball. She wants the Yellow Smiley Ball. She wants the Ball For (our friends’) Dogs. It’s – Not- Her – Ball! JD! No, JD! This… Ball!!”

<sound of (I don’t know which) ball bouncing off living room floor and walls>

<sound of dog nails clattering across the floor and occasional exasperated growl>

“JD! Jay….. DEE!!!”

Repeat after me: A joy.