Confession of a Hippie Wannabe

Confession. 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.

And the older I get, the stronger my hippie tendencies have become.

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. 

It ain't easy.

Food-wise, we rarely eat out anymore. Organic? Some, not all. Getting there InsyaAllah. It ain't cheap to be organic.

And it ain't easy being a hippie in this land. Too many critics, too many judgments. 

Down with it all! 

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.

Now where's my daisy-print head scarf? 

This is how I imagine I look like..

 But this is how I probably look like in reality ;) (well if I'm lucky enough)

*Images from google!

But who cares? Who says standing up for your beliefs would be easy?

Onwards and upwards! Lets save the world and ourselves from toxic and illnesses.

Hiatus Over!

Phew..spider webs all over this blog. It has been too long!

 So many have happened. Too many.

 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.

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.

Aside from myself, there's H. And Gibran. And Ilan.

 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!

 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.

 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.

Then there's work. I've started part-timing again, which means even less time for anything else.

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.

But hey! Who says idle is good...?

Happiness. Or Something Like It.

Nope, no longer the hormonal pregnant lady now, Alhamdulillah :)

I'm now a proud mum of two beautiful boys.

They're asleep now, so.. So should I. Will write more soon.

White Flag, Flagged

Remember how I've hung my white kitchen towel as a surrender-flag..?

Yessss sirree.

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!" ....

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.

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.

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.

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.

Nothing is within my control. It is all in His hands.

On my part... the only thing I can say is... DANG, I'll have to look into job opportunities for next year.

Soon.

The Guard House

Our 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.

You'd think it's nice to have the guards at your doorstep. Is it? Think again.

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.

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 something lah, at least.

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.

Let me tell you why I don't feel safe at night.

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.

Tell me, what's stopping them to do more than steal from the guardhouse...?

Perish the thought. Nauzubillah!

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.

I'm just wondering if I should be paying for next year security fees.

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.

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.

Man vs. Woman

I've been with the gym for 3 months now, and have had about 14 sessions with that personal trainer of mine. So far I've lost four kilos, and my jeans are looser around the tummy.

Before you say "Hey that's great!" or "Wow, good on you!".. let me just highlight a typical day at the gym, and a typical day of training.

On a training day, I get to the gym at 10.40 a.m. I usually have breakfast at home, at 9 a.m. so that by 10.40, the food's gone down nicely. As soon as A sees me (A is my trainer), he'd say; "Fifteen minutes!" or "Twenty minutes".. which basically means that's how long I have to be on the cross-trainer or the elliptical machine (using a fat-burning program setting that leaves your legs feeling like jelly and your thighs burning like on fire). Then when I'm done with the "warm-up" part (yes that's just the warm-up), A would start me on a circuit training program, or sometimes we'd make our rounds and work the machines. If the day's training involves circuit training, a typical session would involve approximately 200 lunges, 100 squads, 100 tricep curls of some sort (don't ask me the names of the motions coz I don't know), 100 bicep curls/exercises of some sort, 100 shoulder-strengthening exercises, 100 lower back exercises, 50 upper back-strengthening exercises (usually we do the "seated rowing" for this with weighs up to 20 kilos), 100 pulley-exercises, 100 reverse crunches, intervals on the step-thingy (where you go up the step and kick or simply jog up and down the step in a hurry).. and many many other exercises that the forever pleasant-but-sadistic A could squeeze into our one-hour session. And A, being the hardworker (right!) that he is, would gladly extend the session to nearly 2 hrs if there's no client waiting after me. And after the session is over, it's back onto the elliptical or the cross-trainer again for another 20 to 30 minutes of fatburning cardio.

On a non-training day, I'd come in at about 11.00 a.m., do 20 minutes of fatburning cardio, and then spend about 40 minutes to an hour working the machines and doing lunges, squats, crunches and weights. Then it's back for another 20 minutes on the cardio machines before rushing off to shower and fetch Gibran from school at 1 p.m.

Every week I'll have two days of personal training, and three days of independent trainer-free workouts (either at the gym of at home on my own elliptical, and using H's gym equipment).

So let me get this straight...

For the amount of work that I put in every week, I really want to see a bigger number than FOUR KILOS.

Just look at the biggest loser and the kilos that fly every week!

Oh well. A girl can dream, right?!

Now lets talk about H.

He works out 5 to 6 days a week about one hour each time, using some workout programs he downloads from the Internet..

And he's already tight and taught from muscles all over in places one can think of. His abs only has a thin layer of fat left amidst those ketul-ketulan of stomach muscles, his arms do not have even an ounce of fat left, and his face looks thin to the point of being gaunt. Oh, and his body fat is more than 10% less than mine.

Blame it on the genetic differences and the biologies of man versus woman.

But really.

How unfair can life be?!

The Mummy Group

After three years, I finally made some Mummy friends. Don't get me wrong, I do have friends who have babies, but we hardly ever see each other and lets face it, sometimes people just draw apart. The reality is that most of my closest friends aren't Mummies just yet. Not that I'm complaining coz they are always soo kind towards Gibran, but it's nice to have Mummy pals too :)

Being a SAHM is not all roses. Sometimes you feel quite alone.

It's just nice to know that there are others who feel the same way too.

We talk about cooking, cleaning, and all those boring stuff that takes up 24 hours of our time. We talk about hangnails and rough hands that handle abrasive detergents and are in need of some tender loving care. We talk about our kids and how they are so alike and so different. We talk about how fat our tummies are and how we never (ever) have time to ourselves even for 15 minutes of exercise a day. We talk about forgotten dreams and sacrificed ambitions that have been laid to rest, albeit perhaps restlessly. We talk about all sorts of junks that would bore a typical woman, just because we need some other house-wife soul to talk to.

Sometimes we sit down for a short chat after the kids go into class in the mornings. Then some of us would go home and finish the morning's chores. Sometimes we get together for breakfast and talk and talk, until the morning's chores were left undone and piled up just waiting at the doorstep when we reach home later. Sometimes we say lets forget those silly housechores and lets go shopping and spend some money just because we deserve it, dammit.

Some friendships you just hope they'll last.

Amen.

The Honda

A couple of weeks back we finally got the Honda back from the workshop where it's been for the past 3 and a half months. Yesss. Can you believe that the wrecked Honda took 3 months to repair and all insurance papers cleared. Total repairs came up to more than 9k.

All I can say is I'm glad that the wreck was the Honda, and not the man who was inside it. Alhamdulillah, syukur.

Now the next issue to deal with is whether we'd be keeping the Honda or letting it go for a new car. It rattles when driven fast now :(


From left; Gibran's ride, H's ride and my ride. Together again ;p

Mandi Garam

Yesterday night as H was about to grill some lamb for his supper..

H: "Garam habis, yang? Can you get me some salt?"
Me: "Oh yaa I finished it just now. Wait, I'll get a new pack from the pantry. Don't move around the kitchen floor! I just mopped it!"

Salt in hand...

Me: "Here, catch, baby!"
H: "No don't throw!! It might hit the fan and nanti the garam might burst and there'll be garam all over!"
Me: "Huahauahauuaaaa... yeah right! I'm not that bad, you know!"

Guess what happened next?

No, you don't get any prizes for a correct guess.

Suffice to say, our kitchen looked like it snowed salt and today the floors look and feel like the floors of a beach-side resort; smudgy and sticky.

I have to say, my beloved is a gem. He didn't even scold or cuss at me. He stood there, bathed in salt, and laughed himself silly. Then he proceeded to clean the kitchen with no complains.

I got me a gem indeed.


Picture taken one day after my second spinal surgery, when H brought Gib visiting at the hospital ward (May 2008).

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.

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..

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.