Ramadan. Puasa.

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

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

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

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

And yet I look forward to Ramadan all year.

May this Ramadan be good to us.

Selamat Menyambut Ramadan, y'alls.

The Ridiculous Need for a Maid

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So there.

I hang my white kitchen towels and give in.

One maid coming right up.

And please Allah, let her be sane and good.

A Surreal Passing..

Only today did I find out about the passing of Puan Raden Galoh. She passed away eleven days ago. So caught up was I in worldly things that I forgot to google her progress for two weeks now.

I've been reading her blog for a very long time and always, always say a doa for her everytime I visit the blog.

Now she's gone to a better place. InsyaAllah.

Al-Fatihah to an amazing soul. Subhanallah, indeed life is so surreal-ly short.

11 km Completed!

Yippeeyayyy yeaaaaaa!

I did it! Praise Allah! I finished in 1 hour 40 minutes.

Yes yes small fry for seasoned marathoners I'm sure. But for a twice-operated, temporarily-wheelchair-dependent Scoliosis patient such as I, it is a hugeeeeeeee deal. MasyaAllah.

Thank you God for good health and strength. Thank you for legs that can walk. Thank you for a rattle-free implant-free spine that now allows me to run when the urge hits. My gratitude is indescribable.

Now onto the next thing to aim for..

The Penang Marathon!

Baby Baby

I do. not. like. it when people ask me when we'd be having our number two.

A second child lah, that is.

A good friend with bigger fertility problems than mine used to reply.. "Esok! Esok aku keluarkan sebijik baby, tengok lah nanti!" with a wink and a smile so convincing, you'd never imagine the pain in that heart every time the question was asked.

Fertile people do not know the pain that infertility causes. They can say they do, but in all honesty, they. really. don't.

But in the meantime, I'll be saying this a lot, I can imagine.

"Tomorrow! Tomorrow I'll pop a baby out, you just see!"

Secret Suffering of a Gym Mum

Dear Gym-Goers,

We're all humans. All of us, each and every one, with no exception whatsoever. And being human, we all sweat. When it's warm and we're working out, we sweat.

That is stating the obvious.

So please. Please please please, all gym-goers...

I plead this.

Please make sure you wear deodorant before you work out.

You may feel that you don't smell when you sweat. That your body does not let out unwanted odours when sweating profusely. That your body is not genetically pungent. That deodorant is an evil weakness and not what mother nature or your body needs. But please face this little piece of reality....

None of us is special. None of us is spared when it comes to odours and sweat.

When you lift up an arm to wipe your face dry with a gym towel, subsequently letting out a whift of your underarm aromas..

Think of the reality of your normality.

So please...

Use deodorant.

Thank you.

Yours Most Most Most Sincerely,

Suffering Odour-Smeller.

Nervous

I will be walking alone this 25th July for the Orange Run. Well, for the most part that is. H will be there but hullo... he's a runner. I'm a walker.

Bleah...

11 km is "small fry" for seasoned marathoners. I, my friends, am not a seasoned marathon runner. Sure I go to the gym four to five times per week, but will that be enough?

Boleh ke ni...??



Nervous, nervous, nervous!

Woosa......... Orange Run Here I Come

Another item in this month's to-do list!



Woot woot! If I complete this one, I'm buying meself a pair of skinny jeans!

11 km's probably not a big deal to anyone else.. but for a girl who used to slipped away during the yearly school Jogathon through an alley that leads straight into a buddy's mom's kitchen... this IS a huge deal, y'alls.

Orange Run, here I come! Err.. although I'd most probably be walking.. or skipping, at the most. Hee..

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 Desire to Move On

Lately I've been feeling out of sorts.

Not that my life isn't happy. It truly is. I'm blessed with two exceptionally loving boys that are sensitive to my feelings and try hard to make me happy, always.

But there's something missing that I can't put a finger on.

Maybe its Gibran's hernia surgery coming up next week.

Maybe its the kitchen floor that never looks as clean as I like it to be even after being scrubbed endlessly by yours truly.

Maybe it's the fact that I workout so hard but only lose so little, in my opinion.

Or maybe I've been home too long and need a getaway somewhere.

Not of the holiday sort....

More like the moving sort.

Yeah I'm talking about moving away from here. This city. This country. This life and its tiresome, sickening politics.

Maybe humans are truly nomadic in nature. Maybe we weren't meant to stay in one place too long.


The place my heart misses.