Ageing

An 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.

Reason being? She said we looked terribly old.

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).

But she said, noooooo, we did NOT look fine.

Such 'healthy' girls (size-wise, really), who really looked 30-something already.

Errr. Okay..

Correct me if I'm wrong but are 30-somethings supposed to look like 20-somethings..?

Mmmm maybe in a land far far away from my world. Like Hollywood maybe?

It is odd how cynical people get about ageing.

This one's in memories of;

Ninie, eternally 25.
Saleem, eternally 20.
Faisal Latiff, eternally 19.
Najib, eternally 26.

And many other forgotten ones. Young always. Al-Fatihah.

*Image from google.

Fish Mongers

Also known as SELFISH people!

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.

Anyway.

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.

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).

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.

I don't get our society. I really don't.

Say what you want lah. I. DON'T. CARE.

Most Malaysians have an attitude problem.

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.

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.

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?"...

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.

I sound bitter. Do I? Yes I do.

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.

And in this country there's nothing I can even do about it.

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.

I will only zikir. And pray. And zikir some more. And hope for justice in karma.

Doing the 5 km for the Nike City Run 2010

I didn't do good at all. I finished it in a few seconds above 48 minutes.

That'll teach me to stuff myself silly with unhealthy, heavy foods just half a day before a race.

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!!

Anyways, time to train for the 11 km Mizuno Run next week. I'd better lay off the heavies and oilies this time around.

Having One, Or Having None At All

My 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.

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.

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.

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.

Sometimes I don't know which is worse. Having one, or having none at all.

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.

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 one kid."

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.

Is it really better to have one, than to have none at all..?

Yeah, bring on the punches.

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.

Deactivating FB

Today, just a minute ago, I deactivated my FB account.

It felt good. It felt like a huge burden was lifted off my shoulders.

Ah bliss.

I have my own reasons to deactivate the account of course, but it hit me with full-force reality today that I've been online for more than half my life and I am sick of online politics. Ain't it enough that real-life politics can drag you down and challenge your beliefs? As one gets older, why must one subject oneself to unnecessarily added politics and stress that can be easily avoided with one button.

"DEACTIVATE ACCOUNT".

Done.

The KL Marathon 2010

Today was super-awesome!


T'was our first time to join the KL Marathon fun :D

H completed the 10k run, while the rest of us a.k.a. "The Rookies" did the 5k Family Fun Walk. H got a medal, I got a finisher's certificate. Hee.

I don't remember KL looking that beautiful. Not since my childhood.

Running at 8 a.m. in the morning throughout the hilly inner roads and main roads of KL does that to you, I guess. When else do you get to do a jiggy-dance right there in the middle of Jalan Tunku Abd. Rahman??

This is definitely going to be a yearly date!

Sex and The City 2

Watched it yesterday night, free show some more ;D

And ohmiGOSH. I'm so Charlotte.

Or at least, I was.

I got so caught up with motherhood that everything else became second. Everyything.

Kudos to those to whom motherhood came so naturally and smoothly.

Emotions of Hajj

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On "Housewives"

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

Ain't that true?

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

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

Is this really worth it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being a "Housewife" is definitely a JOB.

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

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

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

What The Mind Needs

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

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

OTAK KARAT ALREADY!!

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

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

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

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

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

So there. The dilemma stays. For now.



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

A Good Start to Ramadhan

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

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

And Ramadhan is here!

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

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

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

Help Thou Neighbour

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they live just several houses away from us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So where on earth did we go wrong?

Well...

I hope our neighbours are doing fine somehow.

Trust Issues

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At Tesco Mutiara Damansara

As a Malaysian shopper, one has to constantly stand for one's rights!


Took this picture at Tesco Mutiara Damansara a while back and have been meaning to put it up. But yes, I've been neglecting this blog.. boohooo. The heart yearned to blog, but the body couldn't!! Go figure. Dunno how sometimes I just can't seem to find some good quality me-time to surf and blog.

Anyways. It seems that the sign was meant to mean.. "Limited to 4 per customer"... not "Limited to 24 units per customer". Ada ka patut????

Obviously someone made a big blunder here. Maybe that person's been sms-ing or chatting online too much. You know.. when you sms/chat you tend to shorten / abbreviate words and spellings like this.. "U tgh buatpe tu? ru goin 2 work l8er?". Well, you get my drift.

You bet I argued my case there. I'd taken 12 cans of those good stuff and I wasn't gonna pay the full price. Not when the sign clearly said 24 units. It isn't the customers' fault that they screwed it up, right?

They called the manager-on-duty and at first she didn't want to give me the discounted price. Admirably enough (woohoo angkat bakul!) I managed to NOT lose my cool. I just told her that I was terribly disappointed with Tesco and how often we shopped there, spending up to thousands of ringgits per month on groceries and misc. items. And this terribly disappointing incident was definitely going to put us off Tesco in the future. I guess that got to her somehow.. probably started her thinking about the loss of customer lifetime value and whatnot (they'd lose big bucks from our pockets alone and just imagine how many friends we'd be telling about this incident.. yes, you betcha)... and she quickly told the cashier.. "Takpe, takpe, bagi akak ni discounted price tu. Kesian dia."

Kesian ka..? Ataupun takut nanti customers lari? Huhuhuu..

Whatever it is, the bottom line is.. As a Malaysian consumer, sometimes you gotta go the distant to argue your case. Tsk tsk.

When You Least Want It!

Have you ever gone out looking like a pauper / bag-lady / whatever-not-flattering-term-you-wanna-use-please-insert-here.... and then you bump into a blogger friend or someone you haven't seen in quite a while?

My karma's funny that way. Mind you, not funny ha-ha but funny NOT-funny, you know??!

Last Saturday we made an impromptu decision to go to One Utama because H needed to pick up his suit from Zara (a birthday + anniversary present from yours truly, ehemmmm). So I hurriedly threw whatever clothes I could get my hands on the quickest, tenyeh-tenyeh some light make-up on my face, put on the first hijab I found which seemed to match whatever clothes I'd put on, and hurriedly got Gibran and Gibran's stuff ready. As usual since Gib was born, I definitely spent more time getting him ready, rather than myself. Huhuuuhuuuu... sad case lah!

A few hours later as we ran out of fuel and about ready to head home (but not without some Roti Boy bread), into the lift we went to get some Roti Boy before heading home. As we struggled to get our "cute" bodies into the lift, I suddenly noticed a somewhat familiar face grinning at me. It turned out to be Sasha!

Hey Sasha, you look different than your pictures lah! And your kids are so cute! ;)

So despite not looking my best, I am definitely glad to have bumped into you! Hehehehee. Managed to chat also for a few minutes, which was nice :)

Then the real test happened yesterday.

We were heading home from my parents' house at 9.30 at night, when Mom (who was spending the night at our place) suddenly suggested we stop at Giant to get some stuff. I was dressed in a glorious "Environmental ABCs" t-shirt which I had had since I was thirteen years old and used to wear to the school's house practice and such. I figured since it was quite late on a Tuesday night, what are the chances of bumping into anyone we know lah?

Boy, was I wrong!

I had only one measly-looking scarf in the car which I threw on my head, and I even managed to touch my shiny nose with a spot of compact powder before rushing out of the car to make our quick purchases.

Lifts bring a unique sense of karma for me. I tend to bump into people in them.

As we were once again struggling to fit into an elivator, and heaving sighs of relief that everyone managed to fit into the small space, a lady wearing a fancy office outfit (obviously looking as if she just came back from work) with perfectly applied make-up suddenly called out...

"Nina... is that you...?"

Huhuhuuuuuuu. It was my junior from secondary school. We used to hang out while we attended curriculum activities and gossiped about boys back in the days when I constantly wore shorter-than-shorts cut-offs, Nirvana t-shirts and black nail polish.

So there I was in the greatest outfit of all times, chatting away as if I looked like a million bucks. I'm sure she'd seen me in this t-shirt before, in our teen days during one of those curriculum activities, and perhaps she might've even been amazed ("Wow! How thrifty! Still wearing clothes from our teenage days!").. with make-up-less face and drabby hijab and pants (mind you, I think hijabs are fashionable, just not the one I was wearing!) which may have further amazed her ("Wow! From a black nail polish-wearing girl who even wore make-up to house practice... to such a simple, fuss-less lady!").......

Goodness. Karma is a funny thing.

Lesson learned: Never ever go to public places with your house clothes.

I Need to Learn

Is it true that if a mother does not sleep at night because of caring of her sick child, that her pahala is similar to freeing 70 slaves?

I am ignorant and need to learn. I need guidance and direction. So help me God, and those of you out there?

H's cousin Abang Rizal helped out by sending some materials for me to study. Thanks Abang Rizal, I appreciate them! Although I am ashamed to say that I have not managed to go through all of them yet, I can honestly say I'm starting to make progress with my life, Insyaallah :)

But progress and learning should be continuous. Lollies, ada any advise tak? Where should I start this religious/spiritual quest?

A mother indeed gets a lot of pahala from raising her children. A form of Ibadah indeed. If only I knew better, I wouldn't have complained so much about that first year when Gibran was always ill and we feared we'd lose him every time he was sick.

So there. All the more reason for this much needed quest.


A then-ill Gibran reaching out to Mummy.

Can There Be Such a Thing?

.. as being too crabby about life?

On a good day, I can count countless blessings and realise that I'm probably one of the most blessed persons in my own life. Am I making sense?

On bad days, negative thoughts just wash out any positive ones and make me feel as if the world is nothing but a sucky place.

Today our maid application (for replacement to get a new maid) was put under "Keep in View" ("KIV"; Probably the most common term heard when you're dealing with bureaucracy and government bodies). In other words, I gotta go there and appeal to some majestic pegawai for some "budi bicara". So who cares if I can't even pick up my own socks if it falls onto the floor, much less pick up my 14-kilo kid?

You know.. the world does not suck. It's the people in it that suck.

Turning Thirty

Things to remember about my thirtieth birthday:

- Friends who came to surprise me the night before the birthday, reminding me of the times when I was so ill, couldn't walk, and they were always around when I needed them. I hope to be as good a friend to them as they are to me.
- The Hi-Fibre cheesecake which everyone (except for H, Chip and myself) struggled to finish!
- Tam's silly text messages that said; "Enjoy the last day of being in your 20s" and then "Welcome to the 30s, cherish the memories of your 20s". You bitter old woman you, Atam!
- H sitting close to Gib's side and feeding him slowly and patiently all throughout the meal. How lucky can a woman be?
- The man seating next to our table who kept glancing at the way H handled Gibran. Jealous ke bang? Hehe :p Oh, and the irritating old man at that same table who smoked vanilla-scented rokok kretek that caused Gib to wheeze a little and gave me a bad sinus reaction which lasted the whole night. Bleah.
- Gibran and Nabeel nearly bringing down the house with their shouts and loud bangs from their "crashing" game of ride-on bulldozers going head-to-head while Shamel threw cushions at them to get them to stop because he deemed the activity unsafe.
- Feeling as if only a few days have gone by since I turned 20, and then remembering the harsh reality of how fortunate I am to make it to my 3rd decade because there will always be the memory of Ninie, forever young, leaving us all behind in the middle of 20s.

I am lucky to be alive, Alhamdulillah.. and there are things (many many things) still unfinished and undone.

Ilmu.
Ibadah.
Umrah.
Hajj.

I pray I'll achieve some of these this decade.

To Hear a Heart Beat

My close friend Nani went through a difficult ordeal two weaks ago when she was hospitalised with stomach cramps. The doctors discovered she had dengue, and she was pregnant. They suspected an ectopic pregnancy and when they opened her up (in the operating theatre of course), they discovered in shock that it was a burst appendix. So bad was the shape of the appendix that her blood was badly infected, and her chances of survival was reduced to 50-50. She spent three days in ICU and Alhamdulillah, she got better and recovered. The most unbelievable thing is that she was still pregnant at the end of all that. This is her fifth pregnancy. She's had one child before this, and three miscarriages.

But as usual the world is full of experts of all sorts as countless uncles and aunties appear to give her advice on how she needs to abort the baby because it is pretty much a sure thing that the baby is harmed in some way after all that ordeal. The "best" advice is to "get rid of it now, because, really.. why should you be in such hurry to have another baby when you're still so young?" because "you never know if the baby will be normal".

After weeks of moping around, this morning she had a scan on the 7-week fetus. They'd been waiting for this scan in anticipation because this scan was supposed to show the fetus' heart beating.

As I was cooking lunch, an upset Nani rang, convinced that the fetus is growing smaller, not bigger. And they could not hear the heartbeat.

I called my obgyn clinic (KJMC; Dr. Fatima Najla), fed Gibran his lunch, put him down for a nap, fetched Nani from her house (where 2 year-old Arfan excitedly watched me pull up in front of the gate because he was convinced he was coming along), and went down to the clinic to be squeezed into Dr. Fatima's busy schedule.

Suspense as the doctor squirted the ultrasound gel to begin the scanning process.

And I couldn't help letting out a loud whoop as I saw a small, pulsating dot on the screen.

The doctor turned on the audio and the sound of the fast, beating heart beats were the most beautiful thing I'd heard all week.

We were told that there is little to do but wait and see if the baby survives past 12 weeks. I pray the baby will survive.

Being blessed with a child is nothing short of a miracle :)

The best thing is that as I listened to the sound of heartbeats emitting from a fetus measuring a mere 1.66 cm, I realised that it should not matter if we will or will not be blessed with more children.

Because God has given me one such miracle to hold in my arms every night. So I have been blesssed :)


My miracle, with Shamel and Arfan (Nani's son).