tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2789807774041352732024-03-06T03:15:35.648+08:00Ramblings of NothingsNina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.comBlogger115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-23382540543059774182012-09-21T12:35:00.000+08:002012-09-21T12:35:18.635+08:00Facts About Free Speech.In wake of the hu-has about a controversial film insulting Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), writer Yasmin Mogahed wrote something that I entirely agree with.<br />
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Quoted from her FB status:<br />
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Insult African Americans, and it is called "Racism".<br />
Insult Jewish People, and it is called "anti-Semitism".<br />
Insult women, and it is called "sexism".<br />
Insult homosexuals, and it is called "intolerance".<br />
Insult your country, and it is called "extremism".<br />
Insult Muhammad (PBUH), and it is called "free speech".<br />
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True indeed.<br />
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So in reality, free speech is really very selective, isn't it.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-5583086971496999242012-09-19T01:15:00.001+08:002012-09-19T01:20:41.619+08:00AgeingAn old friend of mine came over today with her kids. She's heavily pregnant, 30-something, beauuuutiful still (even 'hawt' when she isn't pregnant). We spoke about Raya and she had a good laugh about a picture of us a friend had uploaded onto FB.<br />
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Reason being? She said we looked terribly old.<br />
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I countered by saying I thought we looked fine. I actually honestly did. Not too fat, no wardrobe malfunctions in the forms of exposed bra straps or hiked-up skirts (good God), and no smudgy makeups reminiscent of the good ol' clubbing days of runny eyeliners and mascaras (goodness, no no no).<br />
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But she said, noooooo, we did NOT look fine.<br />
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Such 'healthy' girls (size-wise, really), who really looked 30-something already.<br />
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Errr. Okay..<br />
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Correct me if I'm wrong but are 30-somethings supposed to look like 20-somethings..?<br />
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Mmmm maybe in a land far far away from my world. Like Hollywood maybe?<br />
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It is odd how cynical people get about ageing.<br />
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This one's in memories of;<br />
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Ninie, eternally 25.<br />
Saleem, eternally 20.<br />
Faisal Latiff, eternally 19.<br />
Najib, eternally 26.<br />
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And many other forgotten ones. Young always. Al-Fatihah.<br />
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*Image from google.</div>
<br />Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-78625119690490679962012-09-17T23:49:00.003+08:002012-09-17T23:52:15.634+08:00Confession of a Hippie WannabeConfession. I've always had hippie tendencies. Save the world. Save paper. Recycle. Save water. Reuse. Upcycle. Hug trees. Plant trees. No airconds. No preservatives. Homemade's the best.<br />
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And the older I get, the stronger my hippie tendencies have become.</div>
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I want to be preservative-free. Toxic-free even. I want to go no-poo. I want to throw away these deodorants, lotions and soaps. I want my family to go no-poo. I want to use everything homemade. Yes that includes soaps, shampoos and everything under the sun. </div>
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It ain't easy.</div>
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Food-wise, we rarely eat out anymore. Organic? Some, not all. Getting there InsyaAllah. It ain't cheap to be organic.</div>
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And it ain't easy being a hippie in this land. Too many critics, too many judgments. </div>
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Down with it all! </div>
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Tonight I washed my son's hair with honey. The bath room looks like a mini-kitchen, with apple cider and baking soda (for our homemade shampoo), and honey for cleansing and washing the kids' hair.</div>
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Now where's my daisy-print head scarf? </div>
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This is how I imagine I look like..</div>
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But this is how I probably look like in reality ;) (well if I'm lucky enough)<br />
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*Images from google!</div>
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But who cares? Who says standing up for your beliefs would be easy?</div>
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Onwards and upwards! Lets save the world and ourselves from toxic and illnesses.</div>
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Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-28867006850254726472012-07-27T22:46:00.001+08:002012-07-27T22:47:00.353+08:00Law & Order SVUI've been a fan. For the number of years it's been on TV, I've been a fan. That's... many, many years.<br />
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I got me a new laptop. H gave me season 13's episodes. Lo and behold, my favourite Detective Stabler left the show.<br />
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Why oh why!!<br />
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Not that he is hot or anything. But I've been watching him since I was in secondary school. That's more than 15 years ago. Darn it.<br />
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Of course things change. Remember Family Ties? Full House? Fresh Prince of Bel Air? They were so good we thought they would last forever. And then there was Buffy the Vampire Slayer, gosh how I felt so empty when it ended.<br />
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It's not as if I don't cope to changes well. I cope with changes in life well. I try to redha. Accept that changes are part of life. <span style="background-color: white;">Maybe I am taking this too hard because TV is escapism. A fantasy world that you feel.. well, perhaps you can control it. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Blueh. Right. What nonsense to be affected by TV!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-57087100764182786802012-04-27T23:58:00.001+08:002012-04-28T00:08:48.081+08:00Hiatus Over!Phew..spider webs all over this blog. It has been too long!<br />
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So many have happened. Too many.<br />
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The spinal curve has increased. I am back to 45 degrees upper curve and 50 degrees lower curve. Exactly the measurement I had at 14 years old when they wanted to schedule a surgery for me without my parents' consent. There I was sitting in that drabby room in Universiti Hospital, and the Profs and their minion-doctors (whoops..mean mean mean of me) were discussing my curves as if I wasn't there, and as if my aunt (who was accompanying me while my parents snd sister were overseas for a holiday) was chopped liver. Images of them talking like this while cutting through my spine went through my head and made me brave enough to speak up and said no, I want to wait till my parents get home. During that time, you never question the doctors. You go there, you do whatever they want and listen to whatever they say and follow them without arguments. I was done. I wasn't going to fight them, or even hear them anymore. I chose not to go back. My parents, unaware of the risk of an increasing scoliosis, agreed.<br />
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Fast forward 19 years later, after two surgeries, a history of partial paralysis due to infected implants and a husband and two kids to think of now aside from myself, the fight for normality (or something like it) goes on.
I go to the spinal physio twice a week for pain management. I go to the gym three times a week for pain management. I breastfeed in weird positions to avoid more pain incurring. I pray everyday for strength and good days, and for old age that won't trouble my kids.<br />
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Aside from myself, there's H. And Gibran. And Ilan.<br />
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H is busy busy busy. Work is demanding, as usual lecturing is an overworked-underpaid career. But he is happy and I am sincerely happy that he's found a good place for himself. He goes to work at 7am everyday, comes home when it's nearly dark, and stays up late at night to prep for lectures and do other stuff. I pray he always has good health!<br />
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Gibran is spending his last year in kindy. He's struggling to read, so I try to spend time doing revision (reading English, bacaan melayu and maths) with him everyday. A little bit of something esch day. I asked a teacher to come in once a week to the house to tutor him, for variety's sake. He likes her and enjoys their lessons. He's also taking tennis and iqra' (Quran reading) class in the kindy. Teacher Jack says he's a natural with tennis. On Saturdays he goes to Muay Thai, and we try to bring him swimming whenever we're free.<br />
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Ilan is a Ponyo. That, I shall explain in the other blog soon ;) Ilan... is even more active and resilient than Gibran ever was. If people thought Gibran was hyper, I shudder thinking what people wil think of Ilan. He cannot sit still even for half a second. He eats like a champion but is petite compared to the brother. At 8 months old, he is only 7.5 kgs. But as long as he is healthy, I am happy.<br />
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Then there's work. I've started part-timing again, which means even less time for anything else.<br />
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Between the four of us, there is little free time at hand. Sometimes I an on my feet all day and only sit down during mealtimes or when I'm expressing milk for Ilan. It can get quite stressful and chaotic around here.<br />
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But hey! Who says idle is good...?Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-67377576923241821682011-12-02T23:19:00.003+08:002011-12-02T23:22:17.633+08:00Happiness. Or Something Like It.Nope, no longer the hormonal pregnant lady now, Alhamdulillah :)<br /><br />I'm now a proud mum of two beautiful boys.<br /><br />They're asleep now, so.. So should I. Will write more soon.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-28831199419781478762011-07-24T17:54:00.002+08:002011-07-24T18:14:26.186+08:00Fish MongersAlso known as SELFISH people! <br /><br />Yesterday night at Uptown Kota D'sara a BMW parked right beside my car, blocking any access for me to get out of my parking spot and leave the place. I spent 30 minutes honking away like a maniac (with my blood at boiling point of course) until my stupid Alza honk stopped working. FYI if you buy a Perodua car next time be prepared lah for small faults here and there. The sad reality is that they still can't compete with the resilience of Japanese cars.<br /><br />Anyway.<br /><br />After numerous announcements by the deejay at the karaoke counter at Uptown, an old man came waddling down the stairs, rushed forward towards the BMW (KBS 66, I will remember your plate number for a long time), gave an apologetic wave and drove the car out.<br /><br />The only thing that stopped me from getting out of the car and screaming obscenities to him was the fact that he was grandpa-like. There is no way I would shout at an old, white-haired man in this lifetime, especially in front of Gibran (who was already sleepy as he|| and very upset with all the grumbling/complaining his Mummy was doing).<br /><br />So, too late, old man. Apologetic wave or not, you ruined our night with your uncaring, selfish attitude. Since you were planning to go minum-minum with your other datuk friends, you should've taken the effort to find a proper parking place instead of blocking a tired young family.<br /><br />I don't get our society. I really don't.<br /><br />Say what you want lah. I. DON'T. CARE.<br /><br />Most Malaysians have an attitude problem. <br /><br />First and foremost, this double-parking thingy would not be a common happening if developers have enough parking slots for people who frequent retail areas. For this to happen rules have to be in place. It starts with the people governing developments and giving out permits and such. In Melbourne for every square feet of retail area, there has to be at least a certain set amount of parking spaces allocated for customers. So parking at retail areas are ample. Plus the wrongdoers get fined every single time. So noone dares to be a wrongdoer. That's effective enforcement. Not that stupid tow truck coming to haul double-parked cars away every once in a blue moon to prove a point. What's the point? Most days of the year noone would feel afraid to double-park anyway here in Malaysia anyway.<br /><br />And right into the society our attitude problems continue. Ineffective enforcement means freedom to do as you like and not get caught. And wow are we Malaysians gutsy or what. We'd double park everywhere we feel like.<br /><br />The mosque in DU is packed with double-parkers on Fridays. Once a guard from our area told an elderly guy (nicely, mind you) to please, do not park in front of the gates of a resident. The guy slammed the door, beeped beeped his big-a$$ car alarm, and shouted at the guard; "AKU NAK PEGI SEMBAHYANG LAH! TAU TAK SEMBAHYANG TU APA?"...<br /><br />Wow we Malaysians are never wrong. Off you go to pray to God after a nice shout you give to a poor guard just doing his job. I'm sure the gates of heavens would be glad to open for you.<br /><br />I sound bitter. Do I? Yes I do. <br /><br />Selfish people get to me. They make me pray for bad things to happen to them. And that ain't good for my faith and soul.<br /><br />And in this country there's nothing I can even do about it.<br /><br />All I can do is pray for faith and strength to handle these selfish people in a better way next time. I won't honk till my silly local car's honk gets spoiled. That'll only cost me a useless amount of money to replace and the next grandpa that does that won't even be affected by it. I won't nag and grumble till my five-year old intan payung gets a drift of the negative karma and has difficulties falling asleep. That'll only affect the mind of the darling boy that he is. <br /><br />I will only zikir. And pray. And zikir some more. And hope for justice in karma.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-28518888165063919472011-06-24T01:06:00.005+08:002011-06-24T01:16:09.771+08:00Of Memories Changing With TimeYesterday Ninie would've turned 31. It hurts a little less thinking about her now, although most of the time I don't want it to, because it is good to think of mortality and never take it for granted. <br /><br />For her family though, I'm sure the pain is no less than it was the first day she was gone.<br /><br />When I think about her, I think about the crazy times we had as teenagers, as newly wed young girls living in a foreign land; learning to cook, learning to care and be independent with our husbands, learning to be far from home, always talking about growing old and what'll we do in our future. How many kids we'd have, where we'd live and where we'd retire. Surely we'd still be friends then.<br /><br />I think of her with fondness, feeling warm inside despite the usual sadness. The sadness has somehow changed into something different. It's changed into an appreciation for life, gratitude for the chance to continue learning and living, and the need to continuously better myself.<br /><br />Dear friend, you will always be in my thoughts and I will pray for you, just as the Prophet (PBUH) had advised us to pray for our loved ones who are already in the next realm. In spirit, I wish I could send my hugs and kisses to you on this day that is your birthday. Another Al-Fatihah is valid on this day when the memory of you touches me again and demands changes in my life as always.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-35368804937423841332011-03-26T13:36:00.002+08:002011-03-26T13:45:46.806+08:00Suspenseful RacesI haven't gone to the gym or worked out (at all!) for nearly two months now. The nausea and exhaustion has been barely bearable (and I've yet to lose a battle to vomiting, not about to lose one now! Haha!), so I've been resting a lot at home. This time around is definitely somewhat worse than the first time. Very unexpected.<br /><br />And now I've got two (or is it three....??) races in the next two months to complete.. and I'm a nervous wreck! Not training is the worse thing a runner can do to him/herself!<br /><br />So this Monday I'm dragging myself out of bed, nausea or not. Off to the kiara hills again for training I go.<br /><br />Hope baby'll cope well in there with the training and all.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-20446694940092374352011-02-05T13:18:00.002+08:002011-02-05T13:27:19.433+08:00The 32ndI turn 32 today. This year I got a handful of prezzies that are just too good to talk about. So we'll talk about em some other day :) soon. <br /><br />H asked how I felt turning 32. And he asked me if I remembered those days when we were teenagers and thought that turning 30 would be a nightmare. What a number. So ancient!<br /><br />Truth is I feel good. Alhamdulillah, lots of good things happening this year, InsyaAllah. <br /><br />There's also the fact that about a month ago I was pondering about how depressing it is to be turning 33... and then suddenly I realised I was only turning 32! Gosh, a year's bonus!!! It feels good to be younger than you think you are! Hahahahaaa!!<br /><br />So yeah. I turn 32 today. Thanks Mak for being there for me all these 32 years. Yes Apak forgot my birthday again this year, but that's nothing new so I'm not offended ;) He'll give me something good when he finally realises he's forgetten it. Heheh. Thanks H for being a fantastic friend to me for the past 14 years. You're a solid rock in my life. Thanks Gibran for the morning kisses you shower upon me these days, more so since you realised I've been unwell lately. You're growing up to be such a sweet boy, more than I could ever wish for. Thanks Kaklong for being my one and only sister, a pain-in-the-a$$ but I cannot imagine my life without you nonetheless. Thanks to all my family and friends for the wishes and the comfort you always provide. For that I am forever indebted.<br /><br />Last but not least, thank Allah for the wonderful 32 years. You give me so much to be thankful about even amidst all the bad, the good always (always) outweigh it all. Not everyone can say this, so I am indeed truly blessed.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-77723230422023495202011-01-13T18:14:00.004+08:002011-01-13T18:33:11.286+08:00The Year Pushing Off.....well!<br /><br />Got me a job :) I started immediately. <br /><br />Rezeki jatuh ke riba like I cannot believe.<br /><br />And today I dropped Gibran off at the school gate, and in he went happily with a teacher's assistant towards his classroom. No muss no fuss. <br /><br />Oh my. Such good things all at once. How can I thank Thee...?! <br /><br />Syukur Alhamdulillah!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEY9rYbTOPXEeH5XsTKATXvddKSy2L4qRmATbYCIw1Pn-7VHZVfbUsFObgUz3JlqGO4Jpc1Yr1ILYzbxgRhigJWYO8eRhskIknOx6va9lQCfv6WJ2akq0UqYT9KpW7XJu_plxD_7X1Pku4/s1600/new+job.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 382px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEY9rYbTOPXEeH5XsTKATXvddKSy2L4qRmATbYCIw1Pn-7VHZVfbUsFObgUz3JlqGO4Jpc1Yr1ILYzbxgRhigJWYO8eRhskIknOx6va9lQCfv6WJ2akq0UqYT9KpW7XJu_plxD_7X1Pku4/s400/new+job.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561616163035373426" /></a><br /><br />I hope it'll all go well :)Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-9369420337062708572011-01-09T23:23:00.000+08:002011-01-09T23:24:20.626+08:00The Year 2011This year, I will..<br /><br />.. continue going to the gym, amidst all the negative and insensitive comments I still get from friends and family about actually lovin' gym.<br /><br />.. continue running because no one, I mean no one, should take for granted the blessing that God gives us by giving us these lovely feet to walk and run with. There are people in this world who wish they can stand, much less walk or run. So thank You, Allah.<br /><br />.. try to not be afraid of changes. Because nothing is permanent except changes.<br /><br />.. focus on the positive elements from my surroundings and filter the negative ones that can drag me down. Because foolish is she who expects others to change. Thus I must change myself and how I see things.<br /><br />.. contribute more to our household income and (goes without saying) the monthly expenditures.<br /><br />.. not be afraid to start teaching Gibran to read. I will persevere and be brave or even fierce when needed. <br /><br />.. love this life that I am in. I will count my blessings everyday. I will write down one good thing that happened that day (everyday!) so that I'll always remind myself to stay optimistic.<br /><br />.. last but not least, I will remind myself of this everyday: it is never too late to be what you might've been. <br /><br />So this year, I will have faith and be happy. For my boys deserve happiness. Because they make me happy!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrz1pE7AS21H7NxR3RwJOIdoFAlRLbEyVm_5PcLTKKTvFwBlYqsEIo_IbWMybe9aTNH1ud7YZV1CQq1ZnbM3fV1vUmnT61HpwPjWS-SPHPzLSvRVWPHlDmU3bC84YTyr2IxcPbQCPojDZc/s1600/my+boys.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrz1pE7AS21H7NxR3RwJOIdoFAlRLbEyVm_5PcLTKKTvFwBlYqsEIo_IbWMybe9aTNH1ud7YZV1CQq1ZnbM3fV1vUmnT61HpwPjWS-SPHPzLSvRVWPHlDmU3bC84YTyr2IxcPbQCPojDZc/s320/my+boys.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560206404063566258" /></a>Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-6995906058884105852010-12-03T00:39:00.003+08:002010-12-03T01:03:55.178+08:00The Beginning of SpinningI started something I'm incredibly excited about this week. I attended an RPM class. Also known as "spinning" to some.<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaK7pStSVynXyJxZBiX1KmyEHCyhVWGR-bU8DQRETPYJawdFtze5QSzzp-0uzo6lWreMudrvaHT0VYnddxWrCFaMBqqF1wYVv3uVYMqzMAdbVbvrVHVObFaTq6LIUJGT8Wm1EzHz0GVwKq/s1600/spinning.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaK7pStSVynXyJxZBiX1KmyEHCyhVWGR-bU8DQRETPYJawdFtze5QSzzp-0uzo6lWreMudrvaHT0VYnddxWrCFaMBqqF1wYVv3uVYMqzMAdbVbvrVHVObFaTq6LIUJGT8Wm1EzHz0GVwKq/s320/spinning.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546130401811325026" /></a><br /></div><div>All these years I've looked at people going to gym classes in awe and envy. The people who attend dance, body combat, step, and so on.. look so well-coordinated and fit. When I started going to the gym in April, I didn't think I could go to any of the classes. Truth was I didn't have the guts to. I knew I'd end up just embarrassing or disappointing myself.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I started training for all the marathons, my trainer A started me on a regime of exercises aimed to strengthen my legs (which were sooo unfit!) and increase my endurance. When he started me on a cycling regime.. I thought he'd gone mad. Burn calories while sitting on my backside..? Get real. Marathoners look fit and lean. Cyclist look lean too, sure, but hey they've got big thighs still coz they're always sitting on their bums...! Right? Wrong.</div><div><br /></div><div>Those thighs are pure muscle!</div><div><br /></div><div>A got me started on interval training. Basically this means that I have to pedal VERY intensely for 3 minutes, then rest for a minute or a minute and a half. And back to intense pedaling for 3 minutes, then rest again. Every session was a minimum of 30 minutes of interval training. </div><div><br /></div><div>The first change I noticed was my level of fitness. I don't get breathless on my walks anymore. My cardio capacity and capability increased so much, I was genuinely surprised.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then I noticed my legs don't look like elephant trunks anymore. Could it be that.... I was getting fitter...?! Perasannnnnnnnnnnn :p</div><div><br /></div><div>Then I noticed that those 10 km walks stopped hurting. Miracle of all miracles.</div><div><br /></div><div>And finally, I realised that I could jog again!</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes jog! Praise Allah! I haven't jogged in 8 years since they put those implants in me and I felt as if my insides rattled everytime I jogged. And ever since those semi-paralysed days, I just didn't dare to overdo my left leg because sometimes it still acts like a "lazy" leg. </div><div><br /></div><div>So yesterday, I decided to try out the RPM (spinning i.e. cycling) class. I figured if it started hurting... I'd sneak quietly out the door ;D </div><div><br /></div><div>The instructor was a good guy who helped us set up our bikes coz we had no clue how those spinning bikes work.</div><div><br /></div><div>The minute the music and cycling started.. I knew I'd found one more thing I thoroughly, truly, genuinely, truly ENJOY.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today my neck, shoulders and bum hurt like you wouldn't believe it. </div><div><br /></div><div>But you bet I'm going to the RPM class again tomorrow! </div><div><br /></div><div>Now this item's on my next birthday's wish list... ;)</div><div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ITTl9BcQ8A0Bu_I7GWbjbsJbDRH3c5TdM51ZLsZStNJ9YlLNavwKyOKerhtcLEuK9z3hYPa_y1Lk79y5RHxUMOpy0IUs8y9VjaFWdyO59sKOby-HCE0PL49tktgzxC8H1bFIaVYCXTN1/s1600/spinning+cushion.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 298px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ITTl9BcQ8A0Bu_I7GWbjbsJbDRH3c5TdM51ZLsZStNJ9YlLNavwKyOKerhtcLEuK9z3hYPa_y1Lk79y5RHxUMOpy0IUs8y9VjaFWdyO59sKOby-HCE0PL49tktgzxC8H1bFIaVYCXTN1/s320/spinning+cushion.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546130407175207314" /></a></div>Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-55566742241749891622010-11-28T14:21:00.003+08:002010-11-28T18:41:23.364+08:00The CICM Responsible Care Run 2010 in Bukit JalilIt was a simple community run, and though the efforts they put in showed, it wasn't the most organized of all runs.<br /><br />The reason I said that was because there was no clear, big signage showing the path for 5 km and/or 10 km. The result...? The kids (my nephew Shazwan and niece Sarah) ended up taking the wrong path (the one for the 10km runners!) and missed the 5 km path altogether. Thank goodness they were told to cut their run short when they approached a volunteer (they were wondering why there weren't very many youngsters on their route, whereas their category was supposed to be for the kiddies), and returned to the stadium after about 6 km. Poor souls! But kids being kids, they didn't mind the extra mileage at all.. not even a bit, especially after seeing their medals and certs. Top that up with the free Vico, Revive, Gardenia buns and nasi lemak they got for free, and the run ended on a high note for them.<br /><br />The route itself wasn't the greatest (having to past the heavy traffic of the highways surrounding Bukit Jalil) but hey, that was to be expected. I was ready for that, but wasn't ready for the fact that the road closure wasn't very safe. Only half a lane was shut off for the runners (with cones meters apart! Would've been much safer with the cones closer together..), and the cars zoomed by with no regards as we struggled to stay within the closed half-lane. Overtaking other joggers was no easy feat with the cars steadily zooming by.<br /><br />And that's the reason why we weren't happy that there weren't proper signage for the 5km runners because the kids (and according to them there were other "lost" kids as well) ended up having to follow the busy traffic-laden 10km route. Kids can get rowdy when running, so it was pretty worrying.<br /><br />But!<br /><br />Although my performance wasn't personally satisfying.. I still felt a bit batak in the end (super-excited!) because...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigqJzxvRmE4m13eu2xt5mu2HyEeuOsIuZ3OuCYIKOPGgSz4HhHZ9GZKzycDmwRan1vmZGeIRgCosd0MeB2US6_GvXYlVHaxSi1tfzOF4Srfuup_0x_fBtWclmkelndDviFxriZh9xjvYm3/s1600/medal.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigqJzxvRmE4m13eu2xt5mu2HyEeuOsIuZ3OuCYIKOPGgSz4HhHZ9GZKzycDmwRan1vmZGeIRgCosd0MeB2US6_GvXYlVHaxSi1tfzOF4Srfuup_0x_fBtWclmkelndDviFxriZh9xjvYm3/s320/medal.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544542986535802674" /></a><br /><br />I got my first medal. <br /><br />Hahahhahahahhhaahhaaaaaaaaaaaa<br /><br />Jakun!Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-55107151863314000612010-11-23T00:36:00.003+08:002010-11-23T00:59:31.645+08:00The Penang Marathon.. is the first time I'd walked/jogged in the rain, feeling trapped like a mouse in a full-caged mousetrap, yet coming close to having the most memorable time of my life as I watched the sun rise on the horizon, as I was walking on the bridge that otherwise usually carries motor vehicles, not human traffic as we saw that Saturday.<br /><br />.. is the first 10 km marathon in which I managed to record a finishing time of below 1 hour 30 minutes. Maybe it was the rain which felt cool and freeing on my face, all salty mixed with sweat (instead of the hot hot heat and unrelenting sun on that day of the Serdang Mizuno Waverun Marathon a month ago).. maybe it was the fact that even though I was in foreign surrounding, I did manage to memorise the marathon route this time around instead of going in blind (which usually caused me many moments of... "Are we there yet?? How much longer lahhhh...??"...)...<br /><br />I don't know what it is, but this was undoubtedly the best one I've had so far. And mind you, I went into it alone, I ran alone, I finished alone. No H this time or anyone else. Because H went for the 21 km run at 3 a.m. and was finished by the time I started my 10 km. <br /><br />So I guess the best part of it was knowing that finally I can say that there really is no competition in this cocoon of mine except for myself. <br /><br />Maybe marathons are simply the fashion of the moment. Maybe it won't be fashionable 10 years from now. But you can be sure that I'll try my hardest not to forget these feelings of Syukur (thankfulness) and awe that I feel about God and His blessings everytime I run and finish a marathon. <br /><br />I do not take this walking ability You give me for granted. :) Where I was once nearly paralysed, I'm walking normally again now. And each marathon gives me that realisation, over and over again.<br /><br />So go ahead, seriously, try a marathon out. Maybe you'd be as surprised as I am at what you'll discover about yourself. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihrtikUyNB3QOkGgxPUUWWs3XWdlW3Py6Np3i8wAP007kTBRv5JPBdbn5CCqCuoDab5nHwfGC__O-J7SsBKFtdGoA_zxLBCxETg0Y3GVPrll8MGquy5puuFluVbghaMyOBXB3j8rsuygGd/s1600/penang+bridge+sunrise.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihrtikUyNB3QOkGgxPUUWWs3XWdlW3Py6Np3i8wAP007kTBRv5JPBdbn5CCqCuoDab5nHwfGC__O-J7SsBKFtdGoA_zxLBCxETg0Y3GVPrll8MGquy5puuFluVbghaMyOBXB3j8rsuygGd/s400/penang+bridge+sunrise.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542419163117652274" /></a><br />The sunrise.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-1071795595632466572010-11-09T19:23:00.005+08:002010-11-09T19:57:11.898+08:00Friends of the HeartI love my old friends. I really do. We've been through thick and thin. They've tolerated so much from me, and vice versa I'm sure ;)<br /><br />But alas, even old friends change.<br /><br />When I gave birth to Gibran and chose to change my priorities, I was shocked when I actually lost some friends. The biggest shocker for me was losing my oldest, best-est friend. At least, I thought she was. When my priorities changed and family became my main priority (instead of career, friends and fun).. I lost her, and a few more.<br /><br />To tell you the truth, I was 15 weeks pregnant with Gibran when I was first exposed to the idea of the life-changing magnitude a baby would bring. A bunch of us were vacationing at a friend's seaside summer home in a town two hours outside Melbourne CBD (gosh, can't recall the name of the place now), when our friend Mr. Murali told H..<br /><br />"When your baby is born, you'll see who your real friends are. You'll lose some, you know. Don't worry about it. You'll see who will really stick by you."<br /><br />Back then I thought it was such a joke.<br /><br />Why would our lives change so drastically? I'd had the same best friends since I was in primary school. I was so sure life would pretty much be the same post-baby.<br /><br />Gosh, how wrong was I lah....?<br /><br />Gibran was born. He was so so so ill. He nearly died. And that was the closest brush I had to mortality, other than when Ninie my best bud had died a year before that.<br /><br />Realisation of mortality changes you. Big time.<br /><br />When we started turning down invitations to go out, even during broad daylight (because of a constantly ill infant), the number of friends H and I had..... dwindled.<br /><br />When my implants got infected and I chose to quit work for good and stay home for good (because there were so many missed moments with my child already, after so many months of being sick and confined to the bed, not being able to participate in the "living" of daily routines..)... the number dwindled even further.<br /><br />It was a huge reality check.<br /><br />Whatever it is, the ones I still have, I cherish so very much. Really, I do.<br /><br />They might not know it, they might not believe it. But my family and the few friends I have... are the very core of my world.<br /><br />I do wish I could see them more often! But everyone has their own lives and I respect that. Just as I'm sure they respect my life as well.<br /><br />And that acceptance of the bad that comes with all the good that friends bring... is indeed what I hope will sustain our friendships till our golden years. InsyaAllah. Amen.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBX3rdLijEhlUp06Paoi7cs_97NnjZTbySnPJOsGTbvjIBQa25iU0DxainFueEWKMu67GZVkJW5vF8L7MYtkuP2cNyENjIES3mbvCxp1oDhJ61z7wy6LL20PGAjQ7ZGDXDST9PUVy7JT52/s1600/d%2527tandoor.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBX3rdLijEhlUp06Paoi7cs_97NnjZTbySnPJOsGTbvjIBQa25iU0DxainFueEWKMu67GZVkJW5vF8L7MYtkuP2cNyENjIES3mbvCxp1oDhJ61z7wy6LL20PGAjQ7ZGDXDST9PUVy7JT52/s320/d%2527tandoor.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537515873699762306" /></a><br />Gosh we don't look <span style="font-style:italic;">that</span> young anymore, do we?! I must find a picture when we were in our 20s and do a comparison soon ;p<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1CP5Sok9smJynUMZfj3HqFd2D8w0YAELDak9E6lMYcSf9vLrz6iRYOiqwhunsaGUK9TtCKprfunDfgpcgcs86DJeUFT02XdEoIdt618B54yjlkrbL8WXz-ZOx8fkDfd2KdqYsvla5Y5-/s1600/the+mummies.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1CP5Sok9smJynUMZfj3HqFd2D8w0YAELDak9E6lMYcSf9vLrz6iRYOiqwhunsaGUK9TtCKprfunDfgpcgcs86DJeUFT02XdEoIdt618B54yjlkrbL8WXz-ZOx8fkDfd2KdqYsvla5Y5-/s320/the+mummies.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537515873652155570" /></a><br />Mummy friends help me remain sane.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gJbK5XdE4_7TyzEpyLqQ8a3FtrInYKaM_I0pWH8Ee0dok1Ig19b9cCMYHD9s_TXes2n9Htz9DkHhlaarOruu6vn3fgBq2O8yU65D779dcRAEpRfYaeuAWZ_vkbVgU_VUp_HrcIWy8E2N/s1600/tarbush1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gJbK5XdE4_7TyzEpyLqQ8a3FtrInYKaM_I0pWH8Ee0dok1Ig19b9cCMYHD9s_TXes2n9Htz9DkHhlaarOruu6vn3fgBq2O8yU65D779dcRAEpRfYaeuAWZ_vkbVgU_VUp_HrcIWy8E2N/s320/tarbush1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537515878660384546" /></a><br />For their acceptance of my little (not-so-little) baby... I can't thank them enough.<br /><br />How did <span style="font-style:italic;">your</span> life change...?Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-73480954763602787512010-11-08T17:14:00.004+08:002010-11-08T17:43:01.425+08:00White Flag, FlaggedRemember how I've hung my white kitchen towel as a surrender-flag..?<br /><br />Yessss sirree.<br /><br />If you asked me a year ago if I wanted another maid after our imposter-of-a-maid ran off, I'd have told you "No way!" .... <br /><br />After a year blinked by and everyday my life is consumed by laundry, dishes, screaming kid (and parents! i.e. us screaming at each other!)... this no-salary, no-promotion job has definitely taken its toll. H and I haven't had a date in a year, I haven't done any marketing or lecturing-related job in a year (don't even ask me what's the latest in the marketing or education world, dudes..), the only movies we see are cartoon flicks with Gibran yakking away in our ears and us trying to hush him as he bothers the people around us with his constant yakking, my sleeping time has been reduced to 2 am to 8 am (very unhealthy).. and the worst part was my increased grouchiness.<br /><br />I indeed salute those full-time maidless housewives and full-time maidless working mums out there for their dedication and willingness of continual self-sacrifice done without an ounce of grouchiness. Because obviously I'm not one of those.<br /><br />So, braving the tense-ness and frustrations that come with having a maid.. we're trying out a new maid right now. She arrived four days ago and is learning the ropes, as we speak. <br /><br />No I'm not gonna say anything about her or the situation. I'm not evaluating her. I'm not judging her. I'm not saying it's good, or it's not good. I'm only saying... Tawakkaltu A'lallah... I am leaving this 100% to the Almighty. I pray that this maid is a good human being inside. That's it.<br /><br />Nothing is within my control. It is all in His hands. <br /><br />On my part... the only thing I can say is... DANG, I'll have to look into job opportunities for next year.<br /><br />Soon.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-17120251076161152982010-10-11T03:47:00.000+08:002010-12-03T02:27:45.300+08:00A Letter to Malaysian Marathon RunnersI'd better write this while I have the time and flow.<br /><br />Dear Marathon Runners,<br /><br />It was indeed an exciting day today as we flocked together to run the 5km and 10km marathons right there in front of KLCC, in the wee hours of the morning. The excitement was electric and it was indeed a memorable picture to be gathered in a place where we'd otherwise wouldn't be allowed to walk on, much less run.<br /><br />Perhaps for most of you this wasn't your first marathon. Why, there was the Standard Chartered KL marathon earlier this year. Then there are countless marathons and races around Malaysia and Singapore that I don't even know of. Just looking at the countless blogs on running made me realise that marathons and races have become the fashionably healthy thing to participate in right now. After my first marathon I'd comme to love the adrenaline, hence it was natural to join as many marathons as I am able to. It's a joy to walk and run in the early hours of dawn, where in truth, one's competition is only oneself.<br /><br />Now let me blunt and just let out what needs to be said.<br /><br />I know it's exciting to be all pumped up to run as immediately as the word "Go!" is shouted out, but please, please PLEASE take note that safety should be your first priority. <br /><br />I'm not talking about your own safety. If any of you are willing to hurt yourself by hurling through the crowd at a speedy pace without a proper warmup or whatever, that's your business. I'm talking about the safety of other people around you.<br /><br />Is it really necessary to barge into people, even elbow them aside to fight your way to the front of the crowd just so you seem very "terrer" and awesome? Please. For those that did just that, by now you should obviously realise that being an awesome runner is all you're good for. Well, good on you.. because you've displayed that kindness and sporting spirit is definitely nowhere in your personality traits. <br /><br />It's a marathon. Marathons are filled with people. Big crowds. You want to have a lot of personal space while running, go and run somewhere alone. Don't join the big crowds.<br /><br />And has it ever occured to you that accidents can easily happen? Does it ever occur to you that you could badly hurt someone, to the extend of changing their lives?<br /><br />I've had two major spinal surgeries in my life. A bad smack or a bad fall could affect my spine and the lodged-in titanium implant on my spine. So I do keep aside for the crowds to past. I try very hard not to get in people's way. And the way everybody pushed and elbowed each other to get ahead was putting vivid images of yet another spinal surgery right there in my head. <br /><br />Of course I realise we run at our own risk and if you want to stay safe and sound, for God's sake, just stay at home. But really, people, even if the streets were filled with perfectly healthy people... it does not make it alright for you to be rude and rash.<br /><br />So go ahead and run. But please be more considerate of the people you are shoving and elbowing aside for the sake of an extra two to three seconds of better-ing your time. <br /><br />Thanks for reading.<br /><br />Yours Sincerely,<br /><br />A slow and steady walker-jogger.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-43675239060072865232010-10-11T03:30:00.000+08:002010-10-10T12:48:22.217+08:00Doing the 5 km for the Nike City Run 2010I didn't do good at all. I finished it in a few seconds above 48 minutes.<br /><br />That'll teach me to stuff myself silly with unhealthy, heavy foods just half a day before a race.<br /><br />So heed the warnings in your bodies, folks. If your body tells you you're overeating, chances are your system is really affected by all that "good" food... and that ain't good for your health. The world would be a better place if we could control ourselves from overeating!!<br /><br />Anyways, time to train for the 11 km Mizuno Run next week. I'd better lay off the heavies and oilies this time around.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-40159167626020105792010-10-10T13:19:00.000+08:002010-10-10T12:49:06.166+08:00The Melantak FamilyWe just came back from an overnight stay in Johor Bharu. Yes JB. It was for our cousin Dina's wedding reception. <br /><br />Good God, the whole family must've eaten enough food to feed ten armies.<br /><br />For our little family, it started with a humble bowl of mee rebus muar at the Pagoh rest stop. It was decent, so I decided to ask for "No taugeh, extra mee please bang.."<br /><br />That kind of set the tempo for the rest of the holiday. There was no stopping the gluttons within us. It was all systems go.<br /><br />The mee rebus came back full to the brim, with deliciously sweet gravy nearly spilling out of the embarrassingly huge bowl. They'd put perhaps four fistfuls tauhus in there, and a whole boiled egg. <br /><br />Then that night it was the reception dinner.<br /><br />Everyone had seconds. And thirds. Then fourths. Err.. perhaps some of us had more than that. I tell ya, I haven't drooled over ayam masak merah like that in what seems like ages.<br /><br />Then in the morning, the whole gang met at the coffee house for the buffet breakfast. I think we nearly gave the manager a heart attack. <br /><br />Everyone stayed for more than an hour, polishing off many, many, many plates of food.<br /><br />Then too soon it was time to go our own ways.<br /><br />For H, Gibran, my mum, aunt and myself.... it meant more food.<br /><br />We faithfully followed the GPS instructions to a wicked murtabak stall in Kampung Melayu Majidi where together we promptly devoured a plate of rojak (containing tempeh and spareparts.. yummehh), a special beef murtabak and an ayam murtabak. And ais kacang on top of all that, please.<br /><br />We even tapau-ed some for our family and friends in KL.<br /><br />We managed to behave pretty well all the way home, only stopping for canned Nescafe, isotonic drinks and yogurt drink for the li'l fella who'd been competing his appetite nicely alongside ours throughout the journey.<br /><br />You'd think the rah-rah-go-foooooood tempo would stop once we reached KL. Wrong.<br /><br />By 8 p.m. we figured we'd behaved long enough to earn a nice meal at Homst TTDI.<br /><br />And so we devoured four large lauks with platefuls of rice.<br /><br />And that, my friends, was our MELANTAK weekend so far.<br /><br />Thank God for the Nike City Run tomorrow. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5foQGPmFxhU0AJfyeYKFYyvUeQme8gZ7zSQ9FpN01a45Oe720ip8gIwOaEQFIoDbNAY3fGV8fwntWJ-NV2nSV_12hI3jOBbVotglejCPVXxFiPIZhIx5KiDfP105refVx7-Z-7YNel5xp/s1600/nikecityrun.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5foQGPmFxhU0AJfyeYKFYyvUeQme8gZ7zSQ9FpN01a45Oe720ip8gIwOaEQFIoDbNAY3fGV8fwntWJ-NV2nSV_12hI3jOBbVotglejCPVXxFiPIZhIx5KiDfP105refVx7-Z-7YNel5xp/s320/nikecityrun.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526056332189087266" /></a>Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-62015353669290074412010-10-05T22:09:00.000+08:002010-10-05T22:24:28.132+08:00The Guard HouseOur house is beside the guard house. You see, we have guards guarding certain entry points around the neighbourhood, and making rounds every 30 minutes or so to check on all houses. At these entry points they've erected small guard houses, and one of it is right beside our house. <br /><br />You'd think it's nice to have the guards at your doorstep. Is it? Think again.<br /><br />Safety-wise, I gotta admit that I've more confidence now about coming home alone with just Gibran. If any dodgy characters come ringing on my doorbell, the guards would immediately come to attention and walk right up to the front gate to ask if everything is alright. When I shriek madly in the middle of the night after a close encounter with the house lizards (cicaks la...), they'd enquire if everything is alright. So undeniably, I feel safer in my own home after the guards have been put in place.<br /><br />In the past couple of months though, the neighbourhood society decided to close the boomgate beside our house at night (after 9 p.m.) and leave the guardhouse unguarded from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. (when they re-open the boomgate). So now our house isn't closely guarded as it was before. I was pretty sore about that but H takes it in stride and tries to make me look on the bright side, which is the fact that the guards are still making their rounds every 30 minutes or so, and the guardhouse beside our house is still one of the main checkpoints. Yeah alright... that's <em>something </em>lah, at least. <br /><br />But we're paying for the electricity that they use for the guardhouse, and that darn spotlight that they keep switched on the whole night long. At the very least, I deserve to feel safe in my house at night too. Not just during the day.<br /><br />Let me tell you why I don't feel safe at night.<br /><br />Just a few days back, we found out that someone had stolen the desk that was placed in the guard house outside our house. Right from under our noses. Right outside our house. In the middle of the night when the place is unguarded.<br /><br />Tell me, what's stopping them to do more than steal from the guardhouse...?<br /><br />Perish the thought. Nauzubillah!<br /><br />Sorry mister guards, I like you guys a lot, you guys are always polite and alert and there's no reason for me to kutuk you. So please understand I'm not kutuk-ing you, the guards.<br /><br />I'm just wondering if I should be paying for next year security fees.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-60017037250801007262010-09-30T02:52:00.000+08:002010-09-30T03:00:53.606+08:00Tired!I am tired of clicking on "No" for every event I get invited to on FB. Can??? Maybe I should deactivate my account yet again. But then I'd get tired of not having something mindless and silly to surf when I'm feeling bored.<br /><br />I am tired and want to sleep but cannot because I feel like it's too late to get good sleep. Can??? Then however else can I heal and recharge this tired body??<br /><br />It's so silly that it makes me wonder. The things that make us tired are just so... insignificant. Yet they <span style="font-style:italic;">must</span> be significant enough, coz they <span style="font-style:italic;">do</span> make us so tired.<br /><br />Gosh, am I making sense at all??<br /><br />Tomorrow I have training in the morning at the gym and I am tired of training but I must train because I love food too much. So exercise to me is a necessary evil. Or necessary goodness. Take it either ways, it's just a tiring thing to have to do four to five times a week. I get tired of the gym and I get tired of overeating. And yet I cannot stop.<br /><br />In the evening I'd get tired of doing my Arabic homework because I'm tired of the fact that it's been 2 years since we started our Arabic classes but we don't speak well enough anyway. And then I'll feel tired of my boredom of Arabic and the reality then would dawn on me that if I study a bit more, this tiredness of not being able to speak Arabic would decrease slowly but surely. And yet I can't seem to find the time to change this tiredness.<br /><br />Hot DANG. So many things that one can be tired of, all in just one day. Or less.<br /><br />So what are you tired of?Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-12313730630148706502010-09-23T03:03:00.000+08:002010-09-23T03:33:36.938+08:00Having One, Or Having None At AllMy mummy-group friend, S, is a thalassemia minor carrier and so is her husband. When she was pregnant with her child, A (who's Gibran's classmate now), his fetus had to be tested to determine if abortion would be required. As Allah willed it, A escaped the dreaded fate. <br /><br />S is not willing to go through the traumatic experience ever again. There is too large a chance that the next baby would not be so lucky, and termination might be required. So she isn't going to have another baby.<br /><br />A week ago she told me it fully hit her, finally, that A would never have a sibling to squabble and grow up with. A would always be playing alone and would never know the joys and sorrows of having siblings. And when S and her husband leave this world, A will be alone with noone to reminisce his childhood with. And as the reality dawned on her, she cried all night long.<br /><br />My other friend, A, has serious thyroid problems and is advised against having babies. She took the risk and had one. And nearly died from it. The child is now 11 years old, the apple of her eye, the center of her being and everything that she lives for. In shopping complexes, she looks at stressed-out mothers with battalions of kids with eyes full of yearning. When there are babies at our get-togethers she can be found sitting with them, not with the adults. She holds on to her daughter's hand as they walk together much as if it was her lifeline. <br /><br />Sometimes I don't know which is worse. Having one, or having none at all. <br /><br />At every family gathering there will be somebody who asks us why we aren't having any more kids, and why we're so slow at reproducing. Don't we want to give Gibran a friend? Indeed we are being selfish. Hmmmm. <br /><br />At every gathering when mothers talk about kids, we are cast aside and our opinions aren't given due credit because.. ".. it isn't the same for you, you wouldn't know how it is, you've only got <span style="font-style:italic;">one</span> kid." <br /><br />I wouldn't change my fate for anything in the world. The day Gibran came into my life was the best day of my life. So say what you want. Criticise me, scorn at me. I stand by this question.<br /><br />Is it really better to have one, than to have none at all..? <br /><br />Yeah, bring on the punches.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-48320028963718604572010-09-04T02:06:00.000+08:002010-09-04T02:24:18.110+08:00At House of PakeezaH and I met up with S&S (a couple who're good friends of ours who used to stay in Kemaman but have recently relocated to Selangor) earlier tonight for Iftar at House of Pakeeza in Seksyen 14. <br /><br />The food was good, except the desserts which were pretty hopeless. The palak paneer we ordered on the side was great as usual. And the free flow of sirap is always good ;) Yes I'm easy to please.<br /><br />Then as the night went on and the crowd thinned, I saw something that made me seriously displeased.<br /><br />It was about 9+ p.m. by then, and we were amongst the few people still lingering there, chatting as we always do. I glanced over at the kueh section and saw a waiter collecting the pakoras which have fallen out of its bowl onto the table with his hands. By the way, pakoras are like kueh goreng made of flour and lotsa veges. He collected the pakoras at the center of the table, lazily scooped them up with both of his hands, and dumped them back into its bowl. <br /><br />Yes, that's right. He'd put the fallen pakoras back into its serving dish and he'd even arranged the tongs nicely in the bowl so that the next person that comes along could unknowingly take the pakoras for a nice munching session. <br /><br />I don't know about you.. but I find that a little more than distasteful. Very unappealing. Gross, even. <br /><br />First, the pakoras were already scattered around the table. When I saw him collecting the pakoras with both his right and left hands.. I'd seriously thought he was going to dispose of them in the garbage bin, or at least have them taken away from the table. <br /><br />Secondly.. How clean are those hands that have been serving tables all night? And to use both your right and left hand too.... now, think, what d'ya usually use your left hand for, fellas?<br /><br />Thirdly.. come on, if you can do that in plain view of customers... what the heck are you capable of doin in the kitchen? YUCK. Perish the thought.<br /><br />There should be such a thing as a Restaurant Police.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278980777404135273.post-58929263182482929412010-08-25T02:05:00.000+08:002010-08-25T02:12:39.414+08:00Everyday PromisesEveryday 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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....<br /><br />I know that tomorrow will once again be filled with the same empty promises.<br /><br />Sighhhh.Nina @ BabyBoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075032730953425455noreply@blogger.com0