Everyday Promises

Everyday I promise myself I'd go to bed at midnight the latest and that way I'd have at least 8 hours sleep which would help the human body to regenerate and recharge. And at 2 a.m. here I am, too sleepy to sleep but yearning for sleep with all my might.

Everyday I promise myself I won't lose my temper with the little one (err and the big one too) because it's just not a conducive thing to do. Plus it's tiring too. And by midday when the little one is demanding to have maggi for lunch instead of the lunch I cooked, and the big one drives up the driveway smiley and happy to be home from a good day at work, a sweaty and grumpy me who constantly does not have enough hands to do all the chores all at once finds it hard to smile or say anything pleasant except to give out whips of snappy remarks and replies.

Everyday I promise myself I'd do the house chores without complain, for that is soo much better than having to tolerate an incompetent, lying maid who drives me up the wall. And by night time when it's 2 a.m. like this and I'm dead sleepy and yearning for sleep but too tired to sleep....

I know that tomorrow will once again be filled with the same empty promises.

Sighhhh.

Shoo Fly, Don't Bother Me. It's Ramadhan.

Shoo. Go away.

I'm talkin' bout the evils in my heart.

Gosh, who'd known there were so many....??!

When there's no Mister Setan around now you can really tell how many evils your heart actually carries. Hot Dang.

People who update status yang bukan-bukan on FB make me feel like deactivating my FB account again. They're unbearably irritating and (hey lets face it) some simply strive to activate the green-eyed monsterous-evilness in us through their gloats and boasts. Heh. Clearly the problem isn't them. It's this green-eyed evilness in this poor ol' heart.

People who judge me or anyone I love make me feel like physically kicking or slapping them. Clearly the problem isn't them. It's the short-trigger-temper evilness in the poor ol' heart.

And the son who has grown into a animated, mischievous, energetic but oftentimes annoying nearly-four-year-old kid makes me feel like shouting and tearing my hair out with his regular antics. Clearly the problem isn't him. For he is an innocent, colourful, pocket rocket of a crystal-clean soul. It is this short-fused-emotional-hysterics this poor ol' heart is used to.

Shoo evilness, get out of here. It's Ramadhan and I'm trying to detox.

Ramadan. Puasa.

Ramadan is a special special month to me. It's the month to cleanse one's soul. The month to feel all the goodness in you emerge in special ways and the evilness disappear in mysterious ways. Well, almost...

In reality, Ramadan is a nerve-wrecking month for me.

I get nervous about not being able to fast because I could not fast for 5 years when the gastric was so bad that I had to be on constant medication. Itu lah.. force yourself to puasa some more on hot, longgggggggggggg Australian summer days when your stomach cramps are already so bad you feel the room is spinning even when you're sitting down. That's what one gets for being plain $tupid.

I get nervous as the hour gets late and the evening heat makes us wither when all energy has been spent and everyone's running on their back-up power generator. Temper gets short, things can happen. And the most nerve-wrecking fact of it all is that you know that all this temper and bad-ness that comes out of you stems from deep within you, and it shows just what kind of a lousy human being you are, because... well, simply because there are no syaitans around to blame for bad behaviour when Ramadan's here.

And yet I look forward to Ramadan all year.

May this Ramadan be good to us.

Selamat Menyambut Ramadan, y'alls.

The Ridiculous Need for a Maid

We've been maid-less for nearly a year now and although it's been enlighteningly peaceful in the sense that your house is your own and you can even walk around the house naked if you want to coz there's no pain in the arse stranger skulking around your domain..... it hasn't been easy either.

I salute people who can go maid-less for years and years. Heck, for their whole lives, even. I salute people who don't let the laundry and the water spots on the floor get to them in the nastiest ways. I salute people who can live a normal life while not having a maid. I salute people who say yeahhhh, I can do this, no sweat, who needs a blardy maid?

Well it turns out I am not one of those people.

I need help scrubbing the toilets and the kitchen floor. Though this spine is strong and running marathons these days, it still can't tolerate long period of strains involving lots of bendings and squattings.

I need to feel the occasional freedom of going out without a kid to chase around while attempting to shop for things amidst shouts of; "Ban! You're wandering too far off, come back here!"... and more importantly, I need to feel the stress-free element of not burdening my kid on my parents or my in-laws whenever I need to go out without Gibran and am forced to leave him under their care for a certain period of time. That feeling that you're burdening someone (although your own family) is enough to cast a rain-cloud on my head everytime I go out Gibran-less because I feel stressed and rushed to get home quick, for fear of causing too much trouble and burden on his caregivers.

And for a purely selfish reason.. I need to have someone to delegate chores to, so that I can feel like I have an opportunity to live my life like a normal human being is supposed to. Not a human being who moans over spots on the floors and dishes that mountain up on the countertops when there is absolutely noone to help at all.

So go ahead, call me spoilt, call me selfish, call me drama-queen. Being a full-time stay-at-home mom with noone to help with folding a single piece of linen or washing a single piece of plate is absolutely the hardest job I've had to take on.

Some people can do it. Some people can be so relaxed in everything that they do. But I can't. I'm the type of person who mops the floors every single night and makes sure the countertops are spotless upon my final examination (nightly of course) before turning into bed.

Which, as pointed out by dear Hubs and various countless parties.. as seriously unhealthy.

So there.

I hang my white kitchen towels and give in.

One maid coming right up.

And please Allah, let her be sane and good.