The Ambition that Sleeps

I found my favourite lecturer on FB after years of wondering if he was still alive. He was the person who motivated me to specialise in marketing. With his help, we'd concocted many out-of-this-world-creative-and-outrageous marketing plans. With his help, I'd had the passion and drive to graduate within the top ten percent of the class.

He told me I must check my FB more often (amongst many other things that he was right about). He also told me that he couldn't believe that I was a full-time homemaker. He'd pictured me as a successful career woman who'd be at the top of my game. Then he reminded me of all the talents that I have and how I shouldn't waste it all.

It's always like a sharp stab in the stomach (to put it mildly) everytime someone reminds me of things like that.

So much had happened since those undergrad years. I'd had two life-changing spinal surgeries. One of my oldest friends had passed on shockingly in a car accident. I'd gotten married and had a kid. Life's mortality had come brushingly close many, many times.

So sadly I am no longer the person he once knew.

I met Meen (a classmate of mine during undergrad) a few weeks ago at Kiara Park with her hub and two kids. We competed neck-to-neck for good grades. We were so much the same. Driven, motivated, focused. She'd graduated top ten percent of the class too. And she's also a full-time homemaker now.

I remember the expression on her face when I'd asked her where she was working. It's the expression that comes to my face everytime I am asked the same question. Guilt. Confusion. Defensiveness. Frustration... and Disappointment.

She'd said.. "Ah... hmm.. I'm not working anymore. Ermm, at the moment, that is."

Her husband (who was also a classmate of ours, but not so crazily competitive as we were) had firmly stepped in and stated; "She works. She works 24/7. She works at home."

Once in a while when the last dish of the day was done and the sink's been scrubbed .. and the ironing's stacked up, ready to be brought upstairs.. and the floor's been swept and mopped clean.. and I'm sitting there in the kitchen while the rest of the world is sleeping, while having a drink of water before going up to bed.. I stare out at the empty streets and yearn for mornings filled with coffee, endless emails in my inbox, meetings lined up for the day and deadlines to meet everyday on end.

Even despite all the self-pep talks I give myself everyday, I still yearn for it. What hold it has on me, I don't know. Ambition is a funny thing. It drives you, frustrates you. It can even tear you apart inside.

But when I crawl into bed with aching muscles and I smell those curls on that curly-top boy right next to me, and then I realised that if I didn't do this.. who'd take care of him...? And a different kind of shame and guilt would come to me.

Meen and I would do ourselves good if we could find a way to put those ambitions on hold for now. May this choice be the right choice. InsyaAllah.

Shocking Moments With The Kids

When H tried to snap a picture of Sarah and Nabeel playing PSP side by side, Sarah suddenly realised that she was being eternalised in her all-sloppy-glory (muka belum mandi)..

Sarah: "Don't!!!"
H: "What? Noone's gonna look at this picture."
Sarah: "Whatever Major Looser!" (while making the W-M-L signs with her fingers)

Reminds me of those days when Clueless was the in-movie back when we were teens and we'd end all of our sentences with "Whateverrr...." while making that W-finger-sign. Now we kena in return. Pfft!

When looking at a picture of a girl hugging a girl in the newspaper (not an ad picture), Sarah suddenly asked..

Sarah: "Hey Mummy, diorang ni lesbians eh?"
Me: "Whaaa....?? Where on earth did you get that idea?"
Sarah: "Lesbians are girls who like to touch each other, you know."
Me: "Yeah I know, but in this case I don't think it's a lesbian case. Besides, you do know lesbianism is Haram, right?" (can you see that I got speechless?)
Sarah: "Of course la Haram. But that doesn't seem to stop people from being lesbians, kan?"
Me: *utterly speechless*

When talking to Shazwan, I told him..

Me: "Shazwan, I think your suara dah pecah." (when a boy's voice breaks and matures/deepens)
Shazwan: "Ye ke, Mummy? But you tau tak I tak pernah mimpi or anything like that. So that means I'm not baligh yet, right?" (matured boys have those dreams, that's what he was referring to!)
Me: *speechless once again*

What on earth am I gonna do when the time to deal with a pre-teen or teenage Gibran comes???

I am so ill-equipt!

Too Jaded for Love

I have a bunch of never-been-watched DVDs, so today H and I thought we'd watch one while Gib sat captivated by Ultraman Nebius in front of my laptop. We chose "Twilight" simply because I hate watching fangsy shows at night and we've had that DVD for ages.



I first saw Bit (my friend's daughter in Australia) reading the book a few years back in Melbourne and she raved about how cool Stephenie Meyer's books were. Books in Australia weren't actually cheap, and the local Stonnington Library which I used to go to was always out of it. Too much demand for it. Pfft. So, no, I never actually read the book. Although after today.... I wish I did.

With Gibran watching Ultraman at full volume on the laptop while making Karate moves and rolling around pretending to fight monsters.. it was kinda hard to focus on our show. Then my Dad came over and insisted to take us out for dinner, and so we put the show on hold until wayyyy after dinner, when Dad had left and Gib was once again rolling around captivated by his Ultraman show. So a two-hour movie took us a whole day to finish. Hehhh.

The worse part was the fact we had to put on the subtitles because we couldn't hear most of the dialogues due to the jabbering japanese dialogue emitting from the laptop speakers. Everytime any sort of music came on, the subtitle would describe them as... "DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYING".... "EERY MUSIC PLAYING".... "TENSION MUSIC PLAYING"..... which never failed to crack H and me up in some sort of weird way.

So there we were, watching a so-calledly romantic movie while expelling loud cracked-up laughters every so often.

And whenever the two main characters (the vampire fella and the girl-goo-goo-gaa-gaa-over-him) got into a romantic mood, we'd both groan over how long they were taking to get down to their smoochy-woochies. Soooo lah overly dramatic if you asked me. And it didn't help that H started making his lame dirty jokes for sheer entertainment's sake. And then there's that nearly-three-year-old fella who kept shouting at me; "Mummy!! Tengok ni Ultraman buat macam ni tauuuuuuuu!!"

So.... NO. I wasn't very impressed with "Twilight" simply because it wasn't very easy to appreciate the concept of love that one could feel at the age of 17 (because when you're 30-plus and you're married and been through a lot of high and lows together, the concept of being high on love when you're merely 17 is just so.... bleahhh...), and simply because it wasn't easy to feel any sense of romance with your toddler rolling around doing karate chops on carpets and sofas, and simply because..

Just maybe as we get older, we're just too jaded for fictional love stories.

Don't get me wrong. Our love story turned out just fine, thank you ;)

But seriously. I don't think you'll catch us watching another love story for our leisurely weekend watch anytime soon. It's thrillers and sci-fi all the way from here baby...

If I feel like some lovey story, I'll stick to books.

Emotions of Hajj

Last Sunday night, my Aunty Sham (Mom's only sister) left for Haji. It was a whirlwind week for all of us, helping her prepare for Hajj, plus Sister also had a li'l get-together for Nabeel's birthday on Saturday.

Sunday came and everyone gathered at our humble home in DU. All of Mom's siblings and half of my cousins were there. My parents' maid, Bibik M cooked a whole lot of meehoon and stayed the day at our place to help me out with the serving and clean-up. For the most, we sat and chatted happily about the coming of Hajj for Aunty Sham.

Maghrib came, and the moment came for us to leave for Tabung Haji to send Aunty off. One of Mom's cousins said a little do'a and it dawned on me what a precious thing this is. This opportunity, this golden golden golden opportunity given by God for us to be able to go to Hajj.

As family members sniffed happily and nostalgically waved us off, I know it was a sight that I would never forget. It is wonderful when going-on-Hajj brings us together. I was 9 years old when my parents left for Hajj, and I never forgot the feelings I felt when we waved them off.

How can I ever explain it? Hajj is indeed beyond words. It is an overwhelmingly weird mixture of happiness and sadness that you feel as you watch your loved ones go on their religious journey. This journey where the sole purpose is to serve God. Indeed our whole lives should be lived for the sole purpose to serve God, but it is on Hajj (and Umrah) that this is so very magnified.

When your loved ones go on Hajj, you're faced with this feeling of complete surrender. Of berserah and tawakkal. Because you're faced with the possibility of not seeing your loved ones alive again. In the old days, people go on Hajj by sea, and the travel was hard and many do not survive the journey. In the holy land of Makkah, anything can happen, and indeed you must face the reality that you cannot do anything to protect your loved ones except through prayers and tawakkal.

The wait at Tabung Haji was as I remember as a child. Long and tiring. The place was crowded, full of tired and irritable people. Emotional men and women and children gathering to send their loved ones off on their fateful journeys of the Hajj.

And as I hugged Aunty goodbye and the Talbiyah recordings came on, I swear my heart felt so full and emotional that it got really hard to keep all my insides from falling out (I can't describe this any other way). So overwhelmed that I prayed hard right there and then for God to please let my time for Hajj come too one day. Insyaallah.

Waiting for the day when I too would be given the chance to join the throngs of people calling out the Talbiyah.

"Here I am at Your service O Allah, here I am. Here I am at Your service and You have no partners. You alone are All Praise and All Bounty, and You alone are The Sovereignty. You have no partners."

* Picture is of Makkah as I remember as a 7 year-old child.

On "Housewives"

"Housework is what a woman does that nobody notices unless she hasn't done it."

Ain't that true?

H isn't the typical sort of man who never helps with the housechores. He vacuums, he cleans, he washes (everything including Gib's bum bum), and his latest obsession is hunting for ants all over the house. I wouldn't know what I'd do without him.

But I still get bothered sometimes by that age-old question. That li'l question that must've crossed any woman's mind at some point of time. Perhaps for some, the question would never be said, and would be thought of in different ways. But for me it's really simple.

Is this really worth it?

A woman is called a "housewife", which always sounds (to me at least) like she does nothing but sits, at home. Sort of like a house cat.. or a house dog. Any kind of house pet. And you know what housepets do. Imagine a "housecat". A housecat eats, lazes, plays, poos and pees in the house. A housecat seldom roams outside. So, really, it makes you wonder. Who on earth came up with the term "housewife" lah..?

You know why I can't help but ask myself that question up there sometimes..?

Coz you know you run the house (ok ok so in this paragraph the word "you" means "me" lah okayyy). Without you, without your hands, your efforts, and your obsession with organising and managing the house.. you know the house'll fall apart. Sure, people will survive, life will go on. After all, noone is indispensable. But as the days go by and you do ALL the little things that needs to be done in the house, you start to wonder if anyone notices all these things you do. Your hands get sore and your back starts aching. And then ultimately you'll definitely start wondering if the pains and efforts are all worth it because.. does anyone even notice all these things you're doing..?

So little do people know.. what a "housewife" really wishes for is appreciation. Appreciation and love and respect for her needs sometimes. Maybe once in a while the housewife could go out with the girls and have a fun little shopping trip. Or maybe have that much needed pedicure. Or even 20 minutes all to herself to work out and feel good about herself and her body. That'd be nice.

It's different for men. However helpful the men are, it'll always be different. The men get to go to work. The men get paid to go to work. The men can have lunches with colleagues and friends. The men get personal time to work out or fun activities like recreational sports.

It might sound so petty and whiny, but I never really thought about this until I became a full-fledged, maid-less housewife myself. And no, sorry ladies.. you won't totally get this if you've got a maid at hand to help you out. My Mom, for instance, always had help at hand. It's a different kind of game plan if you are the sole person responsible for your home, and everyone in it, and all of their individual needs. For the first time in my life, I'm seeing things from the perspectives of a honest-to-goodness-fulltime-housewife.

I somehow stumbled into this piece of writing as I was surfing the net. And it made me wonder why people often give so little thought to needs of a fulltime "housewife". I'll come to the conclusion now. Below is the thing that I need to say. This is the thing that needs to be said because I finally understand what being a "housewife" is all about. And it needs to be said because these people get so little credit. I never gave them much thought before this as well. So now that I've been forced to join their ranks, I have to say this. As cheesy as it sounds.

Being a "Housewife" is definitely a JOB.

You don't get paid. You often don't even get noticed. You'd hardly ever get promoted. In fact sometimes you'd get demoted. There're no KPIs to fulfill. But IT'S A JOB. No holidays. No breaks. Just an ongoing, unstopping, demanding sort of JOB.

And I absolutely salute you ladies out there who proudly call yourself "Housewives". Those who've gone through this, those who are going through it as we speak, and especially those who do it from the sincerest depths of their hearts.

People can think and say whatever they want when they read this. But this person's point of view pertaining "Housewives" would never again be askewed.

Giving in to Feel-Good-Cravings

As I finished hanging the laundry (yes I do my washing at all hours of the day), I had a sudden craving for something salty. Salty and crunchy and utterly fattening. It's that time of the month again when you can see Aunt Flo waving from around the corner, shrieking; "Yoohoooo! I'm coming there!".. and so you just suddenly feel like eating the weirdest things at the weirdest hours of the day (or night).

So I went into the pantry (ooh how I love our pantry) and started rummaging through the shelves. I mentally clicked my heels together in merriment the minute I unearthed the Super Ring that H bought for me from our new-crazy-roti-man (the fella's a new roti-man who follows after his predecessor's need to keep honking throughout the neighbourhood), and settled down in front of the forever-cheesy Crossing Jordan (cheesy Super Ring for a cheesy show.. good eh?).

I'm seriously not a dainty eater. You wouldn't catch me eating my pizzas with forks and knifes. Or KFC and Nando's with cuttleries. When H and I started dating, he was surprised at how I was when I ate. Tak heran at all about impressing the man sitting in front of me. Hehhh. And don't get me started on how fast I've trained myself to eat ever since we've had Gibran. I can finish a whole plate of food in under 5 minutes, I kid you not. So.. anyway, there I was happily stuffing my mouth full of Super Ring and savouring its artificial tastes in every corner of my mouth when the Biggest Loser ads started coming on.

Gahhh. Talk about spoilt sports. Kacauuuuuu betol. Ruin the good feeling that I was feeling. Sheesh.

Grasping and struggling to get out of my very comfortable vegging-out position on the couch to reach over the remote.. I quickly changed to Asian Food Channel.

Ooooh. Nigella making prawn fritters. Or was it some sort of prawn cakes. Who cares??? I'm not a hugee fan of Nigella's cooking techniques, but I like her just fine. All I know was that the good feeling was coming back real fast. Now just look at that Nigella stuffing her face with that oily and yummy-looking fried prawns. And you gotta admire that woman for looking so darn beautiful although it's obvious that those clothes are definitely not anywhere close to a size 10. Heyy.. I can cook that prawn thingy too tomorrow. Yeah why not? Definitely feeling good now.

Crossing Jordan might be starting again. Go back to Hallmark channel. Hurry hurry. You might miss the ending.

And there's that blasted Biggest Loser ad again!!!!!

Change change change the channel!

And there's Nigella doing her routine nightly raid of her refrigerator, dipping her nachos into some sort of really fattening-looking dip (woah... cheesy.. just like these Super Rings..)... And she scoops right in and took the whole bowl out for her to feast on.

Now that's what I call Feel Good TV.

*Broad smile* Burp..

Imagining The Morbid

I'm morbid. I'm the "harbinger of doom" whenever the subject of death comes up, as dubbed by a close friend of ours. I can't help it. Growing up, death was on my mind a lot. The ill treatments I got in school due to my ugly spinal braces (lets not go into that in detail) made me think that there must be a better place than this place we're in right now. As time went by and life got better, I often forgot death. Then Ninie passed away, and death is never really far away from my mind since then. But in a morbid sort of way, I wish I could treat death as a closer friend. For the truth is.. death is one thing in life that all of us can never avoid.

On days when the boys are singing their joyful songs and do something silly that makes me laugh, or when H hugs and kisses me and I feel like a true beautiful queen, and when I feel Gibran's body warm against mine while I sniff his boyish scent at bedtime.. death sometimes seems like it can never touch us.

Then H got into the accident last week and brings Ninie into my mind again. The split second of shock she must've felt at that last moment of awakeness, before her head slammed into the wheel and shattered everything that was Ninie, sending her deep into a comma. Then she left her mortal self behind for us to weep over. Thousands of times I often wondered, and still do; what on earth was it like for her at that split second... when the car slammed into the lorry.. her last moments of living. The truth is I cannot vividly imagine what she must've gone through. Because the scenes I imagine are so vividly frightening. Full of pain. So hideous.

Is death really all that? I don't know. Wallahualam.

All I know is that I cannot say how syukur I am that H didn't experience that during that split second when his car was hit, and he went into that skid, and when the car banged into the tree and broke the tree into half.

Ultimately noone can cheat death.

But for now, Allah, thank You for H's life. For our lives.

Studying With Kids Around

I really respect women who're still studying (undergrad.. postgrad.. whatever) after they've had kids. I am so lousy at studying around kids. Honestly. I thank my lucky stars that I finished my masters before we had Gibran.

Today we were supposed to have an Arabic Exam for Level One. Hyuk hyukk.. yupp.. still in level one lah! So all of yesterday and today, I spent at my parents' house. After baths and breakfasts, Gib and I drove to KD two days in a row. While Gib played with his cousins, I studied.

Don't even get me started on the distractions and disturbances. Every other minute they'd be fighting or crying or demanding for something. Pffftt. But I managed to close one eye and just let the boys be boys. They climbed, they shrieked, they yelled, fought, wrestled, laughed, cried. Some blood was spilled every once in a while (Nabeel got kicked in the mouth by Shamel, Shamel got scratched on the face by Nabeel, Gib kicked Nabeel in the stomach... you get the idea).. and yet I managed to finish studying by late evening today. Woot woot, ladies, let me angkat bakul and feel pleased with myself la huhhh...

The exam was supposed to start at 8.30. At 7 p.m. our Ustaz called to say he was still stuck in UIA Gombak. So in the end, the exam has been postponed to Monday.

Talk about bad timing. Gahhhh.

Bad enough that the otak is already semi-karat. Bad enough that Gib sticks to me like a leech whenever we're in our own home so the only way I can study is if I bring him to see his cousins. Bad enough that the boys play in insane ways, enough to drive a sane Mum crazy (good thing I ain't that sane...??). The worst thing is... I gotta go through this again next week when I revise through the lessons again..!!!

Now folks, you better have some damn good respect for those ladies who did it all with their kids in tow.

On a Rainy Evening

I often nap with Gib when he naps in the evenings nowadays. Especially since the runaway maid thingy happened, evenings are our resting time. But thanks to Kanna's Curry House's 3 layer tea, I find myself wide awake while laying in bed resting the good ol' spine.

On rainy evenings like this my thoughts go back to my postgraduate friends who are now in different parts of the world. Friends that used to share and count on each other when living in a foreign land. Friends who you think you'd never lose touch with but eventually do. Now I sit here wondering where they are and what they do and whether every one of them is living the dream(s) that we used to dream of.

And that got me thinking of my dreams. How life works in mysterious ways and sometimes what you dream and plan to do never happens quite the way you wish it would.

Who'd thought that I'd be here today raising a kid and handling the house on my own? Five years ago I'd pictured me as a manager in some big company for sure. And yes I was damn sure that that picture would've happened if I'd set my mind to it and if I'd stick to the path that I'd chosen.

But fate is funny that way. The manager part did happen albeit fleetingly. Then the paths twisted and before I knew it, I'd followed this particular curve and end up here.

I was doing ironing while watching "Crossing Jordan" a few nights ago and thinking of Ria, Maddy, Nat, Miho, Kat, Susan, Eileen.. my partners in crime, then aspiring marketing-managers just like I was. Last I heard, Ria became a successful market researcher and then finally got married in her late 30s. Last I heard, Maddy was a manager with Microsoft Indonesia. Last I heard, Miho finally got the sponsorship she needed from Honda Australia. Last I heard, Nat was with a major advertising company in Thailand and doing wonders for the accounts she handled. Last I heard, Eileen got hitched and was promoted twice in one year in Hewlard Packard. Last I heard, Kat got a sought after job with Thai Air. Last I heard, Susan finally got promoted to senior management level that she so aimed for.

Then one by one, everyone disappeared from the big picture.

Life's funny that way. You can care for one another so much but life has a way of taking you away from your past. Sometimes (if you're lucky or unlucky) the past catches up with you. But sometimes, the past chooses to stay where it is; in the past.

On a rainy evening such as this, I hope they're all healthy, happy and I hope they know somehow that they're still in this small corner of my thoughts and my affection for them will never cease.

So what's my excuse for not writing?

There're plenty of them, I assure you.

First there was Ramadhan. Although not the easiest of Ramadhans, it was a wonderful, wonderful Ramadhan. Alhamdulillah.

Then there was the Raya celebration. This Raya we managed to jalan-jalan A LOT. Gibran is a wonderful toddler who handles himself well. Boleh bawak kiri, boleh bawak kanan. So we managed to visit quite a number of relatives. It was good.

Now, there's this little issue of the runaway maid. Hooboy. While my heart sings in joy over the fact that I do not have to constantly doa and zikir for patience in handling a hopeless case of a maid, my body is achy with all the work to be done around the house. Thankfully today the cleaning lady is here, relieving me off many chores. And leaving me with time to blog. Nyehhh ;)

The maid was a test I fear I failed, or with God's rahmat, very nearly failed while barely scraping through. Never have I had a more trying time trying to keep my patience and goodwill. Perhaps this is the way my prayers were answered. I prayed to be strong to go through what time was left with the maid in our home, and even to be relieved off the problem. And that's been done for me.

Who'd have thought that not having a maid can be so spiritually relaxing? Alhamdulillah, Subhanallah!

Now on to the next day.

As Ramadhan Ends

It has been a wonderful, trying but memorable Ramadhan. I'd looked forward to this month for months, and was tested by being given two "holidays" (Aunt Flo came for her visits) in one month! Never had this happened before. Wallahualam. God knows best.

Today during Sahur, I was chatting to H and Aunt (who'd spent the night at our house) about teenage years. So as this wonderful month comes to an end.. memories are coming at me in a flood. Only God knows why.

Sneaking to try out smoking for the first time in the bilik wudhu' at school, with dear friend Man on the lookout (in case teachers came along) for us girls who were in the bilik wudhu' (yes I was no angel). We got caught anyway and I got away with the crime only because of academic reputation and the special priviledges that came along with people with such a fortunate gift. Man is now residing in Dublin with his wife and son, and at times I miss his friendship so much that my eyes would swell and water.

Sneaking to have a meal at Paradise Cafe in One Utama during those days that we couldn't fast (the Aunt-Flo-Days), our dear friends who worked behind the counter sneaking us dish after dish while we sat huddled in a corner away from prying eyes. Said friends are all over the world now, at various top jobs and facing different personal trivials. Some married, some single, some even divorced. Partners in crime who've all gone separate ways.

Come this Raya, I wish we could turn back time for just one minute. Just one minute so that I could tell them all how much they'd meant to me at certain points of my life, and to thank them for all they'd done, and to plead for their forgiveness for all that I'd done wrong.

I wish this often, especially at this time of the year.

We cannot turn back time though I wish we could. But the next best thing that I can do is to try to appreciate the NOW more. And to tell those around me right now, how much they mean to me and how I am sorry for all the wrongs I've done.

To those special old friends.. my heart is with you, as it always is especially so at this time of the year. Though you may not even know it. May Allah lead us away from wrongs and gather us again together in Jannah one day. Where all the jaded-ness of time will fade away and I can once again tell you how much you've meant to me. InsyaAllah.

And to those of you reading this, Selamat Hari Raya and please forgive me for all my wrongdoings. In many ways, you've touched my life as well in special ways. Thank you :)

What The Mind Needs

H was up late writing out the course outline of a new subject module he is handling next semester. Since it was advertising-related, he asked for some advise from the so-called-marketing-specialist in the house. Yours truly lah, who else. Kah kah kah.

Then yours truly realised that.... ohmigosh!...

OTAK KARAT ALREADY!!

I thought I was doing a good job (obviously so perasan and angkat bakul!) of keeping the mind sharp. I make sure I read a lot (any subject will do, but in the past year it's been heavy on the religious and spiritual side, Alhamdulillah), I have Arabic classes twice a week and make sure that I revise whenever I can and I undertake personal projects that are of significance to myself and my family (e.g. create books for Gibran, various notebooks for myself, sewing, cooking, trying new things..). All for the sake of keeping the mind and soul sharp. But obviously it hasn't been good enough!

So there I was, trying to help H out with his subject module.. and slowly I felt that part of my brain waking up once again. After that I did my night-time readings and Arabic revision, and found it somewhat easier than usual.

Which made me wonder if I should go back to part-time work again. Just to get rid of that KARAT-ness from the mind and soul.

Then there is that small part of me that is afraid that work would consume me again (I am a person of extremes.. I kid you not. I do everything too obsessively..) and leave me with little time for the spiritual side of life.

Some people can do it all. I have come to accept the fact that attempting to do-it-all made me a grumpy person. Which in turn affected my family in negative ways.

So there. The dilemma stays. For now.



Note to self: Must look for ways to exercise the brain further!

Why I Don't Like Having a Maid

The main reason I don't like having a maid is because they're a test to the heart and soul. In other words; "mencabar keimanan". At least that's how I feel.

Having a maid is suppose to simplify your life. But this is not usually the case. In the mornings our maid cleans the house and does the laundry. You might think this means that the employer's worries about cleanliness and clothes are non-existent, but this isn't so. There is the constant worry and need to check whether the maid's using the washing machine correctly (many a machines have been destroyed at various maids' hands), and whether the clothes are hung correctly. Clothes would be hung peg-less and many a piece of clothing would be scattered all over the garden if checking isn't done. Clothes would also stink and stain if they are not cleaned and washed properly, which is often the case in our house. And there's the ironing issue. Many clothes have been burnt and scarred by poor usage of the iron and so the ironing is also another chore requiring constant check-ups.

So those are the worries one has concerning the maid and the laundry. Lets get down to the next issue of cleaning and cleanliness.

Using the vacuum cleaner requires constant guidance and monitoring as well. Although taught to use the vacuum many times, our maid still uses it wrongly. Vacuum is left switched on for too long until the motor feels like it's about to explode. Dust isn't emptied correctly and servicing would be required soon after. Yet another machine with a history of many ill-treatments at the hand of various maids. Washing the toilet needs constant spot-checks too. Brushes meant for usage on the toilet floor would be used for the sinks and tubs if not checked on. Whatever that has been taught ten times would have to be repeated constantly over the weeks just in case the maid claims; "Saya dah lupa.." about what you teach.

And then there're the hygiene issues.

Repeatedly told not to rub her nose or play with her toenails and such (yes the maid does this) while feeding the kid... the maid would still do it if one doesn't keep an eagle eye on her. How'd you feel about a hair or (worse still) a booger in your kid's food?

Then there're all the other small things that you've taught but are constantly done wrong because... "Saya lupa.." ("I forgot") or "Saya ingatkan boleh buat begitu.." ("I thought it could be done this way"). Want examples? Using the sponge to wash plates to wash sinks and stovetops is one such example. Or "forgetting" to clean the brown stains and scums in various parts of the toilets when asked to wash the toilet. Or even forgetting to take her own mid-day shower which results in a really stinky body odour by early evening (errr.. God forgive me for saying this).

So if you still think having a maid simplifies life, think again. If you're one of the blessed people who have good maids, good on you! But if you're right here in the same boat as I am in...

May God give us strength and patience indeed!

I need a maid because God gave me the test of the spine. I cannot do a lot of housework and am not allowed to lift Gib when necessary. At every mealtime the maid lifts Gib into his high-chair and during car rides, the maid lifts him into his carseat. When / If Gib is unwell and needs cuddling, the maid lifts him up and puts him on my lap because I am not allowed to do this myself. So yes.. having a maid is a necessity to me. And as Allah is my witness, the maid is also one of life's biggest trials that God has sent me. Wallahualam. I should be glad that my life's trials are not bigger than mere maid-issues.

But as usual there is one last thing that needs to be said.

To those without maids, I envy you and respect you for making that choice.

And one day when the child(ren) are grown up and there isn't a need to have a stay-in maid, I'm sure there are other things to complain about. Hehh. C'est la vie!

Ramadhan's Challenges

Already some personal challenges have come my way. I am quite sad at the turn of events. But alas, there is still time and hope to ponder and improve in this wonderful month. InsyaAllah. May God guide me to a better path here onwards.

Some people have been "carrying their mouths" ("bawak mulut" ..) and saying untrue things which could get in the way of one of the oldest relationships I've had in my life. No, not with H lah. I'm talking about one of oldest, most treasured friends. One of the few I still hold on to and have hopes to one day share stories about our grandchildren.

I must write about this because it is something we can and must learn from.

Don't exaggerate or make-up stories about non-existent issues. Your seemingly harmless lies may harm people in ways you cannot imagine and unknown to you.

Although we say we don't do this.. in reality we all do. In some way or another. In little ways or in big ways. Whatever it is, now that the hurt is right here in my field, I say we should all strive to always be aware of what we say or do. For in doing and saying things that we think are harmless, we could possibly bring hurt into other people's lives.

We could and should strive to be better people, friends. Maybe we can improve together.

Quick Wantan Mee

With the H1N1 rampantly spreading, we seldom eat out nowadays. We recently had a yearning for Wantan Mee, so I decided to make it myself. It is soooo easy to make, I doubt we'll be having wantan mee in restaurants anymore (unless the Lazy Bug comes and infects us in the future!).

I didn't make any actual wantans/wantons because H and I are both allergic to prawns. I know! What is wantan mee without the wantans, right?! Well, if you wish to have the mee with wantan, I'd say go and buy those ready-made ones in supermarkets (available at the frozen section) and give em a quick fry. Or boil em in chicken stock. There's one brand that's particularly good but I'd forgotten the name. Will go looksie the next time I'm at the supermarket.

So here's the recipe...

QUICK WANTAN MEE


1 pack wantan noodle (approximately 200 grams; available at the chilled noodle and tauhu section in supermarkets)
2 small bunches of Pak Choy (you can use normal sawi but we love baby Pak Choy)
2 pieces chicken fillet (I use 2 pieces of boneless chicken maryland because they're juicier than chicken breasts)
Salt and white pepper

Sauce ingredients (which can be adjusted as you like):
4 tablespoons oyster sauce
1 tablespoon kicap manis (we use Habhal)
1 tablespoon kicap masin (we use Tamin)
2 teaspoons sesame oil
a pinch of salt

Method:

1. For the chicken; season well with salt and white pepper, steam in a steamer until cooked (about 20 minutes). Once cooked, cut into bite pieces.
2. For the pak choy; cut into bite pieces and throw them into a pot of boiling and well-salted water, boil until cooked. Drain and set aside. You can sprinkle a little of sesame oil and salt on it if you want, but we like it as is.
3. Mix all the sauce ingredients in a large bowl. Set aside.
4. For the noodles; take noodles out of packet, unravel the tightly bunched noodles until all of it loosens. Boil a pot of water, put the noodles in the boiling water. Do not leave noodles in hot water too long. A mere 10-15 seconds in the boiling water would do. If you like softer noodles, boil it until it floats. But I like chewy noodles, so my noodles took a really short dip in the boiling water. The next step is IMPORTANT. If you want springy and chewy noodles (not mushy!), you must prepare a big bowl of iced, cold water on the side. Drain the noodles from the pot, shake off all excess water. Then quickly dunk the noodle into the bowl of iced, cold water. Some people advise to dunk them into hot water again after that, but I don't do this. I just dunk mine in the cold water (for about 5 seconds or so), then took them out while they're still warm. The idea here is to let the noodles stop cooking.
5. Shake off all excess water and put the noodles into the sauce we'd mixed in step 3. Toss until the noodles are evenly coated by the sauce.
6. Serve immediately, with chicken slices and pak choy on top.

Note: Many people like their chicken roasted for this dish. I used steamed chicken because we like steamed chicken. Sometimes we'd marinate the chicken pieces with barbeque sauce (the hickory smoke sauce from Life is good and goes well with this dish, so we marinate the chicken in this), and cooked them in a skillet, on the stove with just a light spray of oil.

Cobaan...

Remember in Pendekar Bujang Lapok when the three jokers were chanting the "Hey Mambang kuning, mambang whatever.." mantra, whenever they were disrupted they'd say.. "COBAAN...!"
(i.e. cubaan @ dugaan @ a test).

I don't know if it was too much P. Ramlee movies as a kid, but I say that a lot whenever I'm disturbed or perturbed. In all seriousness or as a joke. "COBAAN..." always seems to be the one-word phase that covers pretty much how I feel about the situation at hand.

And on the first day of Ramadhan, one was sent down to me.

Right after breaking fast and praying Maghrib.. I got my period.

COBAAN....

I'm really sad about this this time around because this is the first time I'm fasting in five years. I've waited for this Ramadhan with such anticipation, only to have it flail on the very first night.

But, Allah knows best.

Even with Aunt Flo's visit, there're ways to still reap the benefits of Ramadhan, I'm sure.

Do zikirs, do doas. Read the Quran and its terjemahans. Jauhkan from all negativities and sikap buruk. I can't seem to do this as well as I wish I could, but in trying to control our nafsu, there is Ibadah there. Insyaallah.

Anybody else has any tips to share for those of us who can't fast at the moment? I know Sarah's in the same boat as I am right now.

"Saya budak baru belajar, kalau salah tolong tunjukkan.."

Happy fasting to those who can :)

A Good Start to Ramadhan

The doc declared the foot healed! Praise Allah! Yippee yeahh yayy!

Still, no walking or jogging exercise sessions for one more month. The soft tissue and tendon are healed but still tender.

And Ramadhan is here!

Lollies sent me a package containing books and reads which I totally love because they're so suitable for those free moments in Ramadhan. Thank you so much, Lolls, you're a constant inspiration to me. So sorry that we couldn't meet :( Sungguh menyedihkan tak dapat jumpa you. My sincerest apologies. These past few weeks have been a whirlwind. I want to take pictures of the books you sent but my Mom and H have started reading them and now they're in various rooms in the house! Thank you again, Lollies.

On another note, Alhamdulillah, I am amazed at the fact that I am once again fasting. After years of suffering from severe gastric, the illness has miraculously left me (even if this is a temporary situation, I am indeed thankful). In my book, miracles do happen indeed. This month is such a great month and I am hopeful and excited to reap benefits from it. Benefits which are good for the spirit and soul, Insyaallah.

Hope the start of Ramadhan is as amazing for you as it is for me :)

The Foot Issue

So anyways, remember that foot I bumped into the dining table leg (kaki meja lah) the other day? Errr... more like weeks and weeks ago.

I've been going to this clinic to get the foot treated, and although it is slowgoing, Alhamdulillah and Insyaallah (Praise God and God willing) the foot is getting better.

It's been lookin' like a lepat pisang, all wrapped up nice and tight with Acustop bandages..



Eh sorry la.. my foot ain't very pretty, folks. But nevermind la, picture for memory's sake (untuk kenang-kenangan). Huhuhuu.

Dr. Mark, the podiatrist who's treating me, is South African but looks like a Malay+Arab or something akin to that. Then he opens his mouth and out comes the South African accent, which (embarrassingly!!) made my Australian accent come out in torrents and there I was, chatting away in my sho-sheng-sho-sheng karat Aussie accent.

There're only two podiatrists in Malaysia, y'all. Want your kids to become super-loaded, tell em to become podiatrists. Seriously. I think the amount of money I've given that clinic alone is enough for the doctor to makan-makan luxuriously for at least two weeks.

But if you've got health problems that need fixing, it's always money well-spent, isn't it.

Meeting Tun Mahathir and Jamal Abdillah

This is a backdated post but something was wrong with our lovely Streamyx so I haven't been able to put it up.

On Sunday night (09/08/2009), we went to see this..

As a child I'd always liked Jamal Abdillah. Hooooboy, who doesn't remember the movie "Azura" and how hawt he was back then? Yeah yeah you can argue that he was as scrawny as a pole, and what with all his drug involvement.. poor fella. Now he ain't as handsome as he used to be, but he's still really talented alright.


This picture looks really familiar lah. Doesn't Michael Jackson have a similar picture..?? Oh wellll.

Truthfully I am not a big fan of the local music scene. The singers and their musics nowadays lack a certain sort of charisma. Now singers from back in the ol' days (from Tan Sri P. Ramlee's days up till the 80s) are in a different class of their own. Somewhere from the mid 80s, I just stopped being able to grasp the local music scene. As a teenager I wouldn't be caught dead listening to Malaysian music. Cool lah tu konon, eh? Pffft.

Anyway.. before I go too far off-tangent..

So despite the H1N1 worry, with Dad babysitting the kids (and the maids!); Mom, Sister, BIL, BIL'S Mama (my sister's mother-in-law la..), Dr. D (BIL's little sister) and I got dressed up and went to Jamal's last night performing at Istana Budaya for the Kembara Seniman tour.

I've forgotten 90% of his songs' lyrics and resorted to humming like a bee throughout the play+concert. The fella has a super-awesome voice, I tell ya. He sings so effortlessly, it got kinda scary to watch at times. You know.. the note is soo high, you'd expect the guy's voice to break and it doesn't. Phew.

Ohhhh ohhhh let me just tell you who we met there.

Tun Mahathir!

Yeah yeah so sue me. I'm a HUGE fan of Tun Mahathir. Always been, always will be. No politician is without flaws, but to me that old man is really something.


Tun Mahathir's car pulled up beside us as we were walking up the entrance of Istana Budaya and we got to wave "hi" at him. Hehehe. Batak sungguh. Well at least he smiled at us to acknowledge our mad wavings. Know why he pulled up right beside us? Because we took the wrong way and ended up at the V.I.P. entrance, that's why. See, I did say we were acting like bataks, right? Kekekee.

Since we sat beside the entrance, we got quite close to the V.I.P. entourage. Sister and Dr. D's highlight of the night was the fact that they got to salam the Tun. Grr. Yes I'm jealous.


Mom and me. Got resemblance, you think?


From left; BIL's Mama, Dr. D, Sister and BIL.

And after the concert, we once again we took the V.I.P.-route to the car (very few people followed this route), and waved again like bataks as the Tun and Dr. Siti Hasmah drove away. We had hoped to get personal pictures with Jamal, but BIL was being a real joykiller! He was hungry and wanted to leave a.s.a.p. Tsk tsk. So all I got was a picture of 50 year old Jamal Abdillah from afar (yes that's Datuk Rais Yatim beside him).



The performance was worth every penny. We got the RM150 tickets (after discount it was about RM137), but there were empty seats at the RM300 place and a few of us (Mom and me included) sat there for the second half of the show. So we got a really good view. The first part of the performance was a musical play, and it gave us an intimate view of Jamal's career; his achievements and personal turmoils. The man is indeed superbly talented, but what a lonely life he leads. In short, it was a heartwrenching, raw and honest piece of performance where he showed how lonely a life as a performer can be. Kudos to the man for fighting his inner devils (i.e. his drug problems in particular) and may Allah give him strength to stay strong and fight.

Overall.. what a night!

If anyone knows of any 80s Malaysian artists giving stage performances in the future, do holler!!

A Sudden Passing

Seems like life's been a bit reflective lately. As in.. life's demanding us to be reflective.

Yesterday afternoon BIL's aunt, Mak Usu, passed away at the age of 55 due to complications resulting from chemotherapy. To those of you out there without this piece of knowledge.. yes, chemotherapy can bring about many complications. Truly I am no expert. But I know more about cancer and its treatments now than if compared to 5 years ago. Because I have cancer in my family. So I can't afford to live blissfully in oblivion anymore.

A breast cancer patient we know recently spent a couple of weeks in HKL's ICU because of blood sepsis, a complication which emerged with her chemotherapy treatment. She is now okay, Alhamdulillah. Mak Usu on the other hand, wasn't as lucky. She had her chemo earlier this week and was discharged on Friday morning (if I heard correctly). Saturday morning saw her excitedly making breakfast for her family, as she so often did on weekends when all her kids were home. After breakfast she told her family that she felt fine, so they should go on with whatever they needed to do for the day. So her husband (Pak Usu) followed their youngest daughter to oversee repairworks at her apartment. During which she then called Pak Usu to say that she was having difficulties breathing. They all rushed home, only to find her laying on the bed. She had passed on.

May she be at peace with Allah Subhanahuwata'ala.

She was a good person. I was never very close to her, but she had kids who were in Melbourne when we lived in Melbourne. She was one of those people that you just can't ignore because she tried so hard to care for you. Whenever she was in Melbourne, she'd invite us over to her kids' house for a meal. She'd come over our apartment too. Like all young people we kids were content in our own little worlds. She wouldn't allow that. She was big on family and gatherings. Every Raya since we came back from Melbourne, she'd insist on having a big gathering at her house. We got to know her and her family pretty well. She was caring, with huge smiles and hugs for us whenever she saw us. She always had some sort of advise up her sleeves. Her nephews and nieces would get irritated at times. But now that she's gone, we can see how she's touched so many people's lives.

Not a dry eye in the house when we went to ziarah her jenazah yesterday. All the nephews and nieces who'd complain about how kecoh she was, mourned openly. A nephew who was always so manly and composed went up to her jenazah and would not let go of her hand until steered away. Her pregnant daughter (due in a couple of weeks) could not get out of bed due to shock and grief. H and I had to leave early to attend a planned gathering, but the scene could not escape me.

Night fell and sister called me to say that Mak Usu would be buried Sunday morning. Cousins, friends, nephews and nieces from afar travelled back to pay their final ziarah and to give support to her family.

Mak Usu won't be hearing this, but I need to say this out.

Thank you, dear Mak Usu, for forcing us to feel a part of the family when we were in Melbourne.
Thank you for all the great meals we had under your roof.
Thank you for touching so many lives in your memorable way.
And thank you God for giving us the opportunity to witness her gregarious spirit.

One final thing.

Prior to her passing, we had planned to visit her once she was healthier and settled once more at home. The opportunity never came.

If you know anyone who is ill, don't wait. See them today.

Help Thou Neighbour

I was up late and heard some "unaccustomed" noises on our street. Since our area's been partially closed (a section of our housing area is now gated and guarded), our street's been a lot quieter.

Curious about the sounds of purring engines, hushed voices, rattling car doors accompanied with some weird lights coming through the cracks on our window blinds.. I peeked. And saw a UMMC ambulance parked in front of a neighbour's house across from ours.

Ambulances make my heart fall. They make my jantung skip a tiny beat and then if there're sirens on, they'd pull my heart right down into my foot or something like akin to that. My first surgery was so bad, I've learned what it's like for an invalid person who is helpless and cannot move while doctors cut and sew and do things to your body. Remembering the wake-up test during the surgery (when they wake you up mid-surgery to ask you to wriggle your toes; this is to test nerve function once they've fused your spine), I can imagine what it's like for a patient to feel helpless and ill. There is nothing worse than being so ill, you cannot force yourself to wake.

I wonder how the person feels. That person who was straddled onto the stretcher, helplessly taken into the ambulance and to the hospital tonight, not 20 minutes ago.

After the ambulance left, there were some more noises and I peeked again. Saw two people get into the car and drive out of the house. No doubt to follow their loved one who was taken to the hospital.

Both times when I peeked, I was overcome with a feeling of guilt and shame. I really really wish there was something I could do to help. Or just ask if there is anything they need help with. And then I realised that I don't even know their names. I don't know who they are.

And they live just several houses away from us.

When I was little, this neighbourhood was different. Everybody knew everybody. Neighbours went to other neighbours' houses. I remember going to Uncle Dzul's house across the street (of the Dzul Dental Surgery here in DU, and whose daughter is part of the wonderous WonderMilk) and playing with his kids. Now when we bump into each other, we'd just smile and raise our hands. That's it. We don't even visit each other during Raya anymore.

Then there's Uncle Rony next door who is (and always was) very tolerant of the shoutings and screamings that came from our noisy house back when all five kids stayed here in this ol' DU house. Once, years ago, Shazwan and Sarah threw stuffed toys into their compound and Aunty Michelle came knocking on my car window to return the toys to us. I was so shocked I thought she was one of those mute people who go around selling stuffed toys to the general public, and I kept on shaking my head and gesturing "No, No, taknak beli". To which she good-naturedly laughed and later on forgave me for it. Hehhh. Malu woh.

But other than them... we don't know any other neighbours.

So in the end, in the event like tonight, when we so wanted to reach out and offer help.... we don't know how. And so we couldn't help.

This is not the right way to live, is it, my friends?

When we were in Melbourne, Margaret our downstairs neighbour used to irritate the heck out of us. But if we put Margaret aside (in the discarded-memory-box where she ought to belong), come to think of it.. we had good neighbours.

Once we had a blackout and H and I were peeking out of our front door to see if the main power switchbox in the hallway tripped, and Fiona from across the hall came out to check if we had enough candles to face the blackout. When we went out onto the balcony, that buff neighbour of ours from the next block (forgot his name) called out to ask if we were okay, and if we needed some candles or torchlights.

Then there were those bees which built a humongous (really!) nest on the balcony of one neighbour from next door and the buff neighbour approached us and asked if we'd like to go along to tell the neighbour that they had a bee infestation, and to offer help to remedy the situation somehow.

And once when our foreign neighbour accidentally left her keys inside the apartment and was locked out, while her 2 year-old son was locked in the apartment, the neighbours upstairs hurriedly peeked to see if there was anything they could help us with when they heard the commotion (that was our shrill voices calling out to the li'l boy if he could reach and open the door).

We Asians are supposed to have more of a neighbourhood spirit, and culturally we were supposed to put more stress on social ties and relationships. At least that's what most researchers said back when I researched for Cross Cultural Negotiations. That Asian cultures are more concerned about interpersonal relationships and so on.

So where on earth did we go wrong?

Well...

I hope our neighbours are doing fine somehow.

A Cat's Eyes

I was going nuts, wasn't I..?!! Hoooboyy. Gill, that Nemo's friend was right!

Anyways, the first day out of "quarantine" saw H, Gibran and myself at Homst TTDI having dinner. Oooh their lemon chicken is to die for lah. And for the first time in two weeks, Gib finished his rice. He even had agar-agar which I made with evaporated milk and fruit cocktail later at the in-laws', on top of his usual night-time milk. Alhamdulillah. I pray his appetite is coming back.

So there I was, driving home alone at 9+ p.m. out of TTDI's Athinahapan area to get Gib's milk from our house (I'd dropped H and Gib off at Pa's and Ma's place first), and at that T-junction near their house, I saw a cat with blinking eyes like flickering neon lights.

Yikes! Freaky. Spooooky.

A cat with eyes which glow out of the dark, I'm used to. Because we had cats for 20 years of my life before Gib was born. But a cat with BLINKING lighted-up eyes.. that was something new.

Then I realised that the cat's eyes were reflecting the signal light on my car. I was signaling to go to the right, and the blinking light was reflected on the cat's eyes.

D'uhhhh.

I swear I must've been going nuts. Phew.

May Allah bless us with good health and strong hearts as we prepare for Ramadhan!

Going Nuts

I think I'm literally going nuts. I'm sick of staying at home, caring for a kid who all of a sudden does not want to eat everything/anything we offer him, sick of these four walls and looking at the maid who never does anything right, sick of people telling me that we shouldn't bring Gib to public places coz that's why he got sick and we better be careful coz H1N1's rampant nowadays, sick of not knowing how to help Gib get rid of his access energy, sick of looking at my stupidly swollen foot that's costing a bomb to treat at that expensively stupid podiatrist, sick of trying to reason out with a 2.5-year old kid who's restless and always up to some thing or the other, sick of fearing of being sick, sick of being sick. I am so sick of everything.

And yes, who are we to say that we are sick of everything because there are always so many blessings given by the Almighty, and we should think of those and not those things that make us sick...?

I'm even sick of my own voices in my own head telling me not to be sick because that's just a really ungrateful thing to do when it's obvious God's blessed us with so many things although we lose sight of all those good things amongst the sickening things in life right now. And I'm sick of people telling me I shouldn't be feeling sick.

Am I making sense yet? Yes I know I'm not.

You know in Nemo that black fish, Gill, told Nemo; "Fish aren't made to live in a box, kid. It does things to you."

That's what humans are like too.

Humans aren't meant to be cooped up. It does things to you.

Like it makes me lose sight of the wonderful, great toddler that God's blessed me with. And it's made me lose sight of the fact that we are blessed to be able to afford a maid, because all I can see now is how hopeless this maid of mine is, and how she causes more headache than help. It's made me lose sight of so many things.

Maybe I need a holiday away from life.

Owning Up

Was in Taman Megah today to get the suspected-fractured-foot x-ray-ed, and decided to park at the opened-air carpark behind the Sime Darby Health Centre in Tmn Megah. No improper parking for me, sirree, don't want no parking tickets.

Forty minutes later, Mom and I came back to my good ol' second-hand bright blue Avanza which I'd bought with my own sweat money from the good ol' working days in Melbourne, to find the Avanza's bum having been bumped by some car reversing out of its spot. Or whatever.

Yeah I could take a picture of it and post it up here. But I think looking at the picture would make me pi$$ed off somehow. It isn't so bad to warrant cursings and crying on my behalf (although Mom did utter colourful curse-phrases all the way home.. now, how come she wonders where I get my temper from?) because .. well, a car is just a car, right? And the car still works fine. And the dent + scratches aren't soo chronic that they can be seen from more than 20 metres away (err.. 10 metres away still can see lah, methinks). And.. well, there is nothing I can do at this point anyway, so I'm just going to take it as fated by God, as a test unto me.

You know that prayer of serenity they put on bookmarks?

It goes something like this:

"May God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And the wisdom to know the difference."

I like that one. It does have a lot of truth in it, doesn't it?

But let me just say one thing, guys.

If, lets just say, IF and IF any one of you out there accidentally bump into another person's car (especially a parked car, with its owner utterly oblivious to what's happening to his/her vehicle!)... do have the courage and courtesy to own up to it and do the right thing. Because.. well..

Because it's just the right thing to do.

The other party may diss you and hiss at you, but you can live with yourself knowing that you simply did the right thing. You didn't run, you didn't hide. You owned up. And that is just... SO right.

Thank You Mr. Policemen

Our friend Tam was hanging out at our house earlier tonight and left not five minutes ago. It's always nice to have company, BUT....

I got so nervous tonight, I sweated buckets!!!!

I was busy gossipping with Tam when we heard loud crashing sounds on the porsh outside the house. We both rushed to the windows and saw half-a-red brick laying on the floor outside the window. The other half of the brick was laying outside the front door. I woke H up and told him that someone was throwing bricks at our house and then we called the Damansara Utama Police Station. Tam needed to get home and we didn't want to open the doors to a possible situation where there could be invaders in hiding, waiting to ambush us once the doors were opened. Hey, call me paranoid, but doesn't that happen fairly often in good ol' Malaysia?

Talk about a pleasant surprise; the coppers arrived within 5 to 10 minutes! Definitely under 10 minutes. Now that's public service.

They kept their siren lights going (minus the sound of course) and that attracted a number of neighbours to their doors for peakings. Surprising, the number of Malaysians still up at 2 a.m. There were two cops, one even armed with an M16. They took out their C.S.I.-like neon flashlights and circled around the house to make sure there was noone hiding in possible nooks and crannies.

We actually apologised for calling them over the very small matter of having bricks thrown into our car porsh, but they gravely told us that one can never be too careful nowadays with the rising criminal statistics. They both assured us that we did the right thing to call them because, yes, invaders could just ambush upon you at anytime. Don't ever think you're invincible in your own home, folks.

Once the policemen left, H and I sat like statues for a while in our living room while this realisation dawned upon us; noone is really entirely safe in their own homes. One has to be constantly aware of the dangers lurking in our societies, even when one feels falsely safe and secured in one own's home.

The bricks barely missed our cars. I've got a feeling that they were aiming for our cars but missed. Alhamdulillah. God protected us tonight.

And may Allah bless the coppers for their kindness and thoroughness, and guide them to provide their best for us. Because we do need watchmen in our society, and although I've never been a big fan of the Malaysian Police Force (ohhh yeahh... don't get me started on my lack of trust in the authorities.. I have trust issues, remember?) I must say that tonight they were there for us at the right time, and with the right words.

So thanks, Mister Policemen.

All Grown Up

When I first got to know H back in 1996 (we'd just finished SPM back then), my eldest nephew Shazwan was turning one year old. The first time I invited H to come over to meet-the-parents (my parents!), it was for Shazwan's first birthday bash. We were 17 and Shazwan had just learned to talk. He was a quick-talker, I tell ya. At one year old he was asking questions like a two year old. He listened to stories and repeated them to other people. When in restaurants, he would order his own food ("Nasi goreng satu, milo ais satu!") much to the amusements of waiters/waitresses. He was such a cute kid who was a real joy to be with.

And like all kids, he grew up.

Now he is 13 years old, a smart-talker who says the most shocking things which would cause his grandma to go "Astaghfirullah!!".. like that time last month when he said that one day when he's got a girlfriend, he'd want to go for a road trip to Genting so that they can have a date up there. Pffft. Ideas a teenager gets from peers. And just like how my parents flailed and fainted every once in a while when dealing with us in our teenage years, sister and BIL are going through the same exact situation. Karma is a funny thing, yeah?

H used to spend hours playing wrestling with Shazwan. H was the uncle that Shazwan used to follow around, and surprisingly still does now (sometimes). Now H is Shazwan's main confidante in the family, and somewhat his role model. H isn't too comfortable with the idea, but one must try to live up to a child's expectations sometimes.

Standing at 5 feet 5 inches, 65 kilos, it's disorienting to see the child who is nearly an adult himself bent over in a secret conversation with a skinny lanky man who is his confidante and advisor.

Shazwan's nearly the same weight as his Uncle H now, he can even carry the older guy on his back.


We all grow out of our role models once we reach an age where our peers seem cooler and our individuality becomes of utmost importance. Although this will happen when Shazwan outgrows H one day, I do hope that their closeness remains somehow.

We love you, you stubborn but soft-hearted wrestler boy, you. Remember that.

Mixed-Worried

Hard to describe but that's what it is. A mixture of .. should I be worried?... or no, no biggie, I shouldn't be worried. I'm talking about good ol' spine.

Since stupidly staying up half the night watching Grey's Anatomy (the first time I'd done this in yearssss!), for some reason the left side of my spine started feeling tingly, then eventually that led to an ache down the right side of my body, and now my left foot is swollen as if I've got a bad case of water retention. Really odd. I went to my tukang urut today (don't start with me people... I've been to many many many doctors my whole life and I know what they'll do and what they'll say, and at times seeing the tukang urut is a better option), and did not feel any pain when she massaged the lower spine leading down my left side. So I'm not entirely sure this time that this is caused by my lower spine like last year. The pain feels different.

If my feet were pretty I'd take pictures of em. Hehhh. Then you'll see how weirdly swollen it is. Weird weird weird. Hmm.

Well, the bright side is that I've felt healthy for the past year. Maybe another pain session is due for a reminder..? Shhhyeah.. I'm morbid aren't I.

Morbidity aside, I do pray that the pain will subside because living normally and feeling like you're nearly normal is such a great thing. One should never take normality for granted.

Everything Happens For a Reason

That's what they say. And yes, I do believe it's true.

At the Arabic class yesterday our teacher Mr. Bilal was telling us how he ended up in Malaysia. And Subhanallah, the story is nothing short of an amazing tale of intertwining fates. He was made redundant from a job as a computer specialist. He felt lost and decided to travel to Makkah for Umrah, during which he met a cousin of his whom he fell-in-fancy with. He married her, and they went back to Yemen where he was raised. In his desperate efforts for a job, he met the man who later played a vital role in bringing him here to Malaysia. And this all happened within the span of several months.

Dare I say something that has plagued my mind for years..?

If Ninie didn't die, I wouldn't be where I am now. If Ninie who was one of my oldest dearest friends, did not die, I wouldn't have decided to throw away all the care I had in the world and have a baby. If Ninie didn't die, I wouldn't feel afraid of having my life snatched away from me tonight or tomorrow.

Not a day passes that I don't think of her. I will always miss her. I miss her laughter and everything that made her unique. And I know one day I'll see her again when the time comes.

Morbid talk aside.. Do you ever wonder what in your life, what is that thing that happened for what reason(s)? We all have things that happen and change our lives permanently in unbelievable ways.

For me, Ninie was (is) one of those things.

What's yours? What changed your life forever..?

Traffic and Highway Signs

I have KL-phobia. I cannotttt stand driving into KL. I can count with one hand the number of times I've gone into KL since I stopped working in KL.

Today we went to Gleneagles to visit H's cousin, Ina, who's having a spinal surgery early tomorrow morning. Mom and Sister tagged along (because we travel in troops.. hehhh) and they told me to take the new DUKE highway. But they don't even know the way to take. So I told em, no sirree, we take the normal way okay... coz I didn't want to risk getting lost.

So like the nerds that we are, we took the NKVE to the Duta interchange, drove off the highway, into Jalan Tun Razak and worked our way up to Ampang from there. It took us 45 minutes to get to Gleneagles because of the usual Ampang jam. Grrrrr.

Don't anybody in Malaysia walk or take public transportation anymore...? Practically every vehicle had only one person in them (the driver). That makes millions of cars on the roads at any given time of the day. Scary thought. And lets not chat about the lack of pedestrian side-walks or public transportations in Malaysia.

After chatting with a chirpy-but-worried Ina, we left at nearly 5 p.m. and vowed to take the DUKE. So into the DUKE we went.

What is it with Malaysian roads and the lousy signage?? Call me a snob but the highway signage in Malaysia is nothing like those they have in Australia. Tensionnnnnnnnn.

First the sign said "Damansara 200 m"... and then at the turning, it said; "Petaling Jaya, Kepong, etc.." ... ALRIGHT you can argue that Damansara is in PJ, but why lah the signs cannot be consistent??! Put lah same-same names!

Ok since I have hypertension and high-blood problems in my genetic chain, I will stop yakking about highway signs right now.

I can just imagine what Ina must be feeling right now. When you're going through major surgeries, there's that doubt in you whether you'd live to wake up again. There's always that unsaid scary thought.

Here's praying that cousin Ina's procedure goes smoothly and that God will give her strength to carry through the post-op recovery period with patience and faith, Insyaallah.

The Indon Maid Matter

Wowza. My maid was acting up the whole day (you know, one of those days when they cannot do anything right), and I tell you... my blood-went-upstairs when I read in The Star today about the demands made by the Indon government for their workers who are planning to work in Malaysia.

Hey don't get me wrong. I am thankful for the help that I get. But the demands made are RIDICULOUS.

The Indonesian side is saying that the demands are necessary because they must do what they can to protect their citizens' rights. Oh gee. So what about us, the Malaysian employers. What are our rights?

I've had two maids so far (this is our second one) but all my life we've always had maids. Alhamdulillah. When I was small, we had a local maid from Batang Berjuntai in Selangor. She was my nanny and Mom's maid. Her name was (is!) Kak Lela. She was with us for more than 10 years and was a part of our family. She left to marry and start a family and it was sad for all of us to see her go.

Mom hired weekly help after Kak Lela left and we got our first Indon maid when Shazwan was born in 1995 because sister was working then and Mom needed help caring for Shazwan. Since then there's been a succession of Indonesian maids in our home.

We never mistreat our maids. My parents' maid has been with us for 11 years and Sister's maid has been with us for 7 years. My first maid, Nila, wanted to stay but chose to go home because she had a toddler of her own. I hope our current one somehow would work a number of years to come.

But hullo! .... If you think having maids is something of a luxury and can really simplify one's life.. goodness how you are sadly mistaken.

When Sister was looking for maid of her own (about 8 years ago), she went through a few agents and was cheated out of thousands of ringgits when the maids ran off or stole things or were forced to be sent back.

Once (we suspect) we took in a maid who was part of a syndicate because she arrived, waited 3 days to see how our house worked, took some money and walked out of the house in broad daylight when she was supposed to be watering the plants outside. The agent remains MIA to this day.

Once we took in a maid who shrieked and cheered and danced when watching the TV. It freaked my parents and sister's family so much that she was sent back after 2 days of unending woots-woots, whistlings and clappings directed to mister television.

Another time we took in a maid from Kampung Pandan who told our Bibik (my parents' maid) that she can teach Bibik the "ways" to make the men in our house bow to the maids' needs and desires. Of the "jampi"/black magic sort. Shudder! We sent her back to the agent immediately and the agent had the nerve to call us a few days later with scoldings of how the maid claimed that she was not fed and was beaten severely by us. Grrrrr.

Then there are the countless maid-stories of people surrounding us.

My cousin Jiji got conned twice in the past year by two different agents and lost a total of RM8000 before dishing out another RM5000 for a third maid from yet another different agent. So far third time's the charm but imagine the money spent.. and the heartache. Never underestimate the heartache. Sakit hati lah..

A friend of my Mom's voiced out that she could not understand how her new maid could eat so much, on and on and on.. only to discover that the maid arrived from Indon already pregnant (the doctors fibbed about this in their medical report over there), and when told that she would have to be sent back, the maid ran off leaving the family high and dry without help and thousands of ringgits down the drain.

Then there's Mira whose maid ran off too, and she suspects the maid had been abusing her 2 year-old son Emir because of the tell-tale blue-black marks he had on him.

I can go on but then we'd never stop, would we? There're just too many maid-related horror stories.

Now the Indon government wants us to let the maids hold their own passports, and have their own bank accounts into which we'd be depositing their salaries for them to handle on their own. In their own hands. And lets not forget the one day off per week. My family usually lets Bibik go home to Indonesia for 3 months each time (she goes home every 1.5 to 2 years) because Bibik never gets a day off. Already now our Bibik's telling us she has no desire for one day off per week because that would be eating into her own money, and she'd have less opportunity and time to spend back in her homeland.

So what do you think..? Do you think all these demands would really help both parties... or would they make the relationships between employers and employees more vulnerable and irritable?

For me, personally, it's like this. Wallahualam... tapi if it's soo hard, Mister Indon Minister... there's still the rest of the third world countries for us to look at. Maybe having a Sri Lankan or Cambodian maid wouldn't be so bad after all.

Of Vanity

I don't think I'm a vain person, but I guess I do care about some things. Does that constitute as vanity..?

I walk at least four or five times a week for 30 minutes each time and although the main reason for this is to exercise good ol' spine (not exercising makes my spine very very very stiff.. think of gripping onto your pc mouse for at least an hour without loosening hold; that's how stiff the whole of good ol' spine becomes at times).. I never seem to lose even a pound. Not even one. Go figure. Then there's the fact that I'm living with Mister-Eat-Everything-That-Comes-My-Way-Without-Gaining-An-Ounce. Yup of course I'm talking about H. Thinking about it makes me dazed and confused.

Then there are those "laugh"-lines around my eye area. Alahhh. OKAY, FINE. You can call em crows' feet if you want. Whatever. Maybe there're not crows' feet yet, but they're definitely heading that way. I think they'll be eagles' feet in about 10 years time. Only God knows. All that despite the fact that I religiously apply eye gel and eye cream everytime after washing my face. This indeed leaves me dazed and confused.

And I know that I have not been able to do a single sit-up or stomach crunch-exercise since the spinal surgeries, but you'd think a woman's tummy would go back to somewhere near to its pre-pregnancy size after nearly three years of the baby's delivery..?

And if I have to hear one more story about H's students telling him; "Mister H, whyy... are you sure you have a kid?? You don't look a day above eighteen!".... I swear I'll chuck out the eye-creams, lotions, hair serum, shavers, wax strips, tweezers, perfumes, concealers and that extra big pot of cocoa butter body scrub... right into H's grinning face.

Alamak. If H reads this, I'll be dead meat!

Sorry H huney, I love you to bits but have mercy on a woman's ageing heart, yeah?

After all, these faint stretch marks on this good ol' tummy are war medals, man!

Well. At least in my case t'is true that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach :p

P/S: Forgive me God, it's PMS laa kot...

MJ's Passing

Yesterday (26th June '09), Michael Jackson dubbed also as the King of Pop by beautiful-gone-eccentric Elizabeth Taylor, passed on.

I was never a huge fan of MJ himself (though I loved the beautiful Elizabeth Taylor esp. in that movie "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof".. err sorry, off-tangent here).. but I liked him enough to have bought a couple of albums back in the 80s and 90s. I remember freaking out everytime I saw the "Thriller" music video (it scared the bejeebers out of me), and I hated that famous red jacket he wore, but after that found "Bad" extremely entertaining. Like most teens back then, I adored that weepy song "You Are Not Alone" until the radio played it soo often your ears would bleed if you heard it one more time. After those turbulent years, to this day I still like his oldies from the Jackson Five days, especially "Ben" (for some reason, dunno why!) and of course you couldn't have grown up in the 80s and not recall "We Are The World" with much fondness.

Suffice to say, I did appreciate some of his music and talent as an entertainer. Who on earth could've created those dance moves other than good ol' MJ?

Frankly, I wasn't one of those people who was so sure that he was a molester as charged. I wasn't too sure that he wasn't either. Whatever the truth is, isn't it for God to judge and not us?

Now he's passed on, and his cycle of life is complete. Whether it is true he died a Muslim or not, only God knows.

Yang dah pergi tu, sudah lah. Let it be.

When I was in primary school, I had a friend who was veryyy much into MJ. You could say she lived and breathed MJ. I saw her last during our uni years, and she was still very much into him. I wonder how she's handling the passing of her idol. I don't particularly have an idol, so I wouldn't know.

Anyways..

His songs however will live on in my fond-nest childhood memories. A bunch of us singing "We Are The World" for some concert in SRK SSP. My friends Audrey, Zarihan and myself clumsily attempting the Moon Walk dance one day when we stayed back at school for co-curriculum activities... laughing our heads off when we came across like chickens doing the hokey-pokey instead of the glamorous Moon Walk. We've all gone separate ways and live separate lives now. A group of black-clad girls hanging out at the neighbourhood park with walkmen hanging out of our ears, singing "You Are Not Alone" at the top of our lungs, with much passion and weepy-ness. I still see some of the girls once in a while with kids or boyfriends in tow at the Sunday neighbourhood pasar malam.

So even though he won't be hearing this.. thanks MJ, for your songs.

H1N1 Gets Too Darn Close For Comfort

My nephew Shazwan's school (SM Damansara Utama / SMDU) has two cases of H1N1-infected students. Said students are supposed to have been properly quarantined as we speak.

Then for the life of me, please explain, SMDU, why we had to learn of this from the TV3 van parked in front of the school, which of course evoked Shazwan's dear old Atuk's curiousity (dear ol' Dad).. and he of course walked into the school to make enquiries on the matter. I doubt any parent was properly informed about this. Then TV3 talked about it during the 1.30 news and I suppose that's how most parents would learn about this piece of news.

Schools. Don't they have any sense of responsibility towards their students and the students' parents? And what the heck are those people in Jabatan Kesihatan doing? Wanna wait till the whole Damansara Utama is infected or quarantined, then baru decide to close the school, issit?

Excuse me if I sound pissed. That's coz I am.

H1N1's too close for comfort indeed.

Of Cicaks

I HATE house lizards a.k.a. cicaks. I hate it when they appear out of nowhere and start crawling and squirming all over your legs in utter panic (who's supposed to be panicky here?!). I hate it when they sneak their heads out of under the washing machine to peak at what I'm doing in my own kitchen in the middle of the night and early mornings. I hate the very way they wriggle and squirm. They are utterly disgusting and I cannot stand them. The very thought of cicaks squirming anywhere within a ten-foot pole's distant is enough to make the hair on my neck stand up. Gross!

Today it happened again. I was busy washing chicken pieces to cook for lunch and had been standing there for a good 10 minutes when suddenly a cicak crawled onto my foot and started wriggling from foot to foot. Grosssssssss!

You bet I did a grand red-indian-rain-dance complete with shrieks that put those crows on the windowsill to shame. And to add salt to wound, the maid who had never seen her stalwart employer so out of control immediately got to her feet like a person at the ready to go to war, with exclamations of; "Puan! Puan! Apa itu? Apa ituuu?? Apa ituuuu Puannnnn???!" .. and in all that commotion, Gibran grabbed his lightsaber and rushed into the kitchen with shrieks of; "Kenape Mummy?! Kenape Mummy?? Kenapaaaaaaaaaaa Mummyy!! Are you okay?! ARE YOU OKAY MUMMYYYYY!!"....

Pffft.

All that just for one lousy cicak's sake.

I wish I know how to exterminate those pests!

Trust Issues

I have major trust issues. When Gibran was little and sick soo often, I hardly let anyone else hold him at family gatherings because I was sick of having a sick baby all the time. I also felt as if I was dreadfully troublesome if anyone held my baby too long because I hate troubling people.

I never leave Gibran alone with the maid at home. Hardly ever. The only times I'd left him alone at home was when he was sleeping and I needed to get bread or something important that wouldn't require more than 30 minutes. Even with our trusted old maid, I didn't. And now with the new one, lagi lah never. Hardly ever. Whenever I need to run errands or go for classes, I'd drop Gibran and the maid off at my parents' place. I have "visions" (of the not-good-sort) of maid running off or simply neglecting my kid in some way. Always.

I never even let the maid feed or bathe Gibran. Except for those days when I was very ill (last year when the implants were infected), and on days when I'm not around (running errands or at class), I would be the one feeding or bathing or simply doing anything/everything for Gibran. The maid is there only when I need assistance of some sort.

I've only left Gibran to go to bed without me during the times when I was hospitalised and was too ill. Other than that, noone else puts Gibran to bed except for H and myself. I have not been out till late at night with friends or for whatever function since Gibran was born because I always make sure I'm there when he's put to bed. As a result, whenever we're forced to leave him at night (the occasional wedding reception or discussion after our night classes), he'd start asking for Mummy and Baba as soon as the clock hits 10 p.m. Sometimes when he gets into fights with his cousins, he'd cry his eyes out for hours if we're not around. On that sort of occasion, we've had to rush back home to see to him. Like tonight for instance, our friend from Melbourne is in KL and hoping to meet up for late dinner and supper and a late-into-night gossip session.. and I was forced to back out because I didn't want to leave Gibran alone well into the wee hours of morning. Normally he'd follow us wherever we go, but tonight's meeting was a smokey joint (the sort we never failed to frequent a few times a week pre-Gibran days), and we couldn't risk exposing Gib to all that smoke.

My Dad likes to take his grandkids out with the maids as guardians/assistants. Last year they went to the zoo when I was still bed-ridden, so I didn't let Gibran go because I wouldn't be there to monitor him. H and I aren't comfortable with the maid being in charge of him on an outing like that for the whole morning. If he messes around with filthy things, the maid wouldn't care. She wouldn't even care about thoroughly scrubbing her hands and nails before feeding him if we weren't there. And what if he gets sick from all that heat and sun and lack of water because for sure the maid wouldn't pay attention to all those small details. That was when we had Nila, whom we actually did trust. Last week his cousins went to the zoo (with my Dad and sister's maid tagging along as Dad's assistant), and Gib couldn't go because I wasn't feeling too well and again, I wouldn't be around to fully-monitor the maid. New maid some more this time. How can we trust her..? But then, we didn't let Nila be in charge back then too.

Nowadays, Gibran is my constant shadow. He'll rush upstairs if he hears me walking around although I've just sent him downstairs to the maid not two minutes before that. And I was just about to take a shower and solat. Everyday I have to make sure we go to the park because that's the only place where he'd be too busy to look for me, and for once I'd have a chance to exercise. When the weather's lousy and I'm forced to workout at home, guess who'd be sitting right beside me while I'm working out?

Ninety percent of the time I love it. I love being a mother, I love this great kid I've been blessed with. He talks so well that he is now like a companion. I don't regret sacrificing my career because I believe that having me stay at home is the best thing for all of us. Not a minute goes by that I don't thank God for the ability to live normally. Things people take for granted like standing, walking, cooking, driving and so on. I try never to forget the days when I could not do all of that.

But then there are those times when I am unsure if these trust issues are making life harder... not easier. Are they, really?

When friends ask us to go out till the wee hours of morning, our conscience just can't take it. What if the people we leave Gibran with aren't taking care of him right? I don't miss the nightlife and I don't particularly like to hang out all night and come back to a quiet home and a sleeping kid who didn't get to hug Mummy goodnight. And yet there is that small part of me that sometimes wishes that I could just let go and relax a little.

In our circle of friends, there are friends with kids (including infants) who leave their kids behind with the maid or family members easily and have the luxury of going out there and having a life well beyond their little homes, and not worry too much about arranging childcare at the last minute, any time any day is a good time for having a good time.

And no, I am not envious or bitter. Honestly I'm not. And NO, I'm not judging them either because they're our good friends and everyone is entitled to their own ways of living. I just.... wonder why I cannot be like that!

The truth is that I'd rather be at home with a sleeping Gibran (who is muttering in his sleep right now) and a snoring H, after having had a pasar malam dinner of meehoon soup while watching Finding Nemo, with house chores waiting by my side (which I'm ignoring because, well.. d'uh, I'm blogging).. than being right there where I could otherwise be. Out there where the loud music used to soothe, the smokey air used to lull the troubles away, and loud and rowdy jokes are told with belly-splitting laughters.

I suppose we are happy in this quiet cocoon of ours.