About two weeks ago, we had our office raya celebration at Le Meridien. As usual, I was the MC for the evening together with another colleague. We had a blast of a time, so here I'd like to share some pictures with you.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
My Raya
Raya was just like any other Raya except that now I have an additional member in the family to celebrate it with. This year is Muhammad Raqib’s first Raya. So Ayah bought him a baju melayu (which was a little too big for him so we had to fold it for quite a number of times) and Bie bought him his first ketayap.
Since I had no one to take care of the kids, I couldn’t go to the mosque for the solat Raya. Felt a little sad because as you grow older, what is Raya without doing the solat and takbir Raya. I mean, doing the solat and the takbir are basically the things a grown up looks forward to when it comes to Raya in order to make the Raya meaningful (also the food lah, but that’s another thing). This is of course purely my opinion.
After the whole family got back from the mosque, my parents sat on the sofa and each and everyone of us had to do the annual ritual of asking for forgiveness, salam and hug. I remember being very dramatic when it comes to salam session when I was a lot younger. It wasn’t ‘sad dramatic’ but ‘happy dramatic’. Asking forgiveness for almost everything, which brought smiles to others around me at that time. It was funny. Those were the days.
After we had the lemang, rendang, nasi himpit and the lontong, we rested a bit and after Zohor we went to visit our arwah Uwan. Prayers were recited and water was sprinkled on top of the grave. Uwan left us on 31 July 2005. It was sad, but it was meant to be. Then we went to an aunt’s house and after that, we got home. We didn’t go out much on the first Raya. We were just tired and wanted to sleep.
The next day we went back to Kuala Pilah to visit my Uwan Teh. After eating lemang and chicken rendang (which was actually very nice), we went to Pak Ngah’s house. And we ate some more. By the time we got back to my parents’ house, we were so stuffed that we didn’t have anymore dinner that night. The next day was already the third Raya. And as per the annual ritual cum agreement I had with Bie, we headed back to KL to be with my in-laws. And of course we went to several houses and ate till we were full. I tell you, I think I have put on a lot of weight during this Raya.
Surprisingly, I had quite a nice time this Raya. Well, most of it was because we went to visit relatives and friends. My children also received quite a lot of duit Raya. In terms of dollars and cents, I don’t really know how much they received because I haven’t opened the packets yet. Malaslah. Will do it later, when I’m up for it.
That was how more or less my Raya was spent. Weird enough though, many of my friends this year aren’t doing open houses. I have not received a single open house invitation at all as at to date (except for Yamm’s this Saturday – can’t wait for that. She will always bake her famous Baked Macaroni) and that is completely the opposite of last year where open houses invitations were a lot (especially from my office friends). Except that because I was sick thanks to my morning sicknesses, I didn’t attend any. Such a shame.
Oh well… anyhow, I’d like to share some Raya pictures with you. Enjoy.
Since I had no one to take care of the kids, I couldn’t go to the mosque for the solat Raya. Felt a little sad because as you grow older, what is Raya without doing the solat and takbir Raya. I mean, doing the solat and the takbir are basically the things a grown up looks forward to when it comes to Raya in order to make the Raya meaningful (also the food lah, but that’s another thing). This is of course purely my opinion.
After the whole family got back from the mosque, my parents sat on the sofa and each and everyone of us had to do the annual ritual of asking for forgiveness, salam and hug. I remember being very dramatic when it comes to salam session when I was a lot younger. It wasn’t ‘sad dramatic’ but ‘happy dramatic’. Asking forgiveness for almost everything, which brought smiles to others around me at that time. It was funny. Those were the days.
After we had the lemang, rendang, nasi himpit and the lontong, we rested a bit and after Zohor we went to visit our arwah Uwan. Prayers were recited and water was sprinkled on top of the grave. Uwan left us on 31 July 2005. It was sad, but it was meant to be. Then we went to an aunt’s house and after that, we got home. We didn’t go out much on the first Raya. We were just tired and wanted to sleep.
The next day we went back to Kuala Pilah to visit my Uwan Teh. After eating lemang and chicken rendang (which was actually very nice), we went to Pak Ngah’s house. And we ate some more. By the time we got back to my parents’ house, we were so stuffed that we didn’t have anymore dinner that night. The next day was already the third Raya. And as per the annual ritual cum agreement I had with Bie, we headed back to KL to be with my in-laws. And of course we went to several houses and ate till we were full. I tell you, I think I have put on a lot of weight during this Raya.
Surprisingly, I had quite a nice time this Raya. Well, most of it was because we went to visit relatives and friends. My children also received quite a lot of duit Raya. In terms of dollars and cents, I don’t really know how much they received because I haven’t opened the packets yet. Malaslah. Will do it later, when I’m up for it.
That was how more or less my Raya was spent. Weird enough though, many of my friends this year aren’t doing open houses. I have not received a single open house invitation at all as at to date (except for Yamm’s this Saturday – can’t wait for that. She will always bake her famous Baked Macaroni) and that is completely the opposite of last year where open houses invitations were a lot (especially from my office friends). Except that because I was sick thanks to my morning sicknesses, I didn’t attend any. Such a shame.
Oh well… anyhow, I’d like to share some Raya pictures with you. Enjoy.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Finally Some Of The Pictures
Marysa with her Angah's handphone.
Raqib who was excited to see his Angah.
What can I say, my daughter just loves the camera.
Raqib eager to be picked up, but no one wanted to pick him up. Kesian dia.
This was at Nizam's (my cousin) wedding. Raqib was fast asleep during the commotion.
Marsya and Raqib, ever ready for the camera.
Like I said earlier, Marsya just loves the camera. Oh and that's my Ibu's hand.
That's me, with Ibu and Mak Uda at Nizam's wedding. I just had to see what I can eat from the pengantin's table.Unable To Load Pics Up
I don't know what's wrong but somehow I can't upload any picture. I've sorted out some pictures of Marsya and Raqib and I am very excited to share them on the blog, but alas, it can't be done. Oh well, maybe next time. I also want to share my Eid story, but I haven't drafted anything yet. Maybe later. Tunggggguuuuu.....
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Eid’s Just Round The Corner
In less than a week’s time, all Moslems across the world will get together to celebrate Eid. Whichever way Eid is celebrated, it will still, nonetheless be celebrated differently, according to each Moslem’s customes, yet unique and splendor in its own special way. Over here in Malaysia, what is Eid without Raya songs and firecrackers. Not to mention the large variety of delicacies that are only prepared during the Eid festival like ketupat palas and nasi, lemang and rendang, and so forth.
But somehow I feel that something is missing. I don’t know why. Frankly, I don’t really look forward to this Eid.
But somehow I feel that something is missing. I don’t know why. Frankly, I don’t really look forward to this Eid.
I have always enjoyed Eid. When I was little, the excitement that rose whenever Eid was approaching was just so great that I had to contain my excitement level to zero.
When I was a student as well, be it in Malaysia or in the UK, I had actually looked forward to Eid. The thought of coming home for Eid and balik kampong was just exciting. Especially on the eve of Eid where nearly every house that we passed by had ‘pelita’ hung on poles or stilts and you can see lights everywhere in the front yards. The view was just beautiful.
Sadly somehow, that feeling has diminished over the years. I don’t know where it went to. These days I just don’t view Eid as I used to. I wonder myself why I can’t relive all those ‘looking-forward-to-Eid’ feeling like I used to. Is it because I am married now? Is it because I have children? Is it because I am getting older? Is it because I am tired? Is it because both my beloved grandparents have passed on and there’s no kampong to go back to? Is it because my uncles aren’t close as they used to be? Is it because I am all grown-up? Truthfully, I don’t know. I don’t even have the urge to have new baju raya. I will just be wearing last year’s baju. To me, they’re still new so why waste? I only bought new outfits for my children. Somehow I love the notion that they’ll be wearing something new during Eid… yes, even the little one. Ayah has already bought him his first baju melayu.
Thinking of Marsya and Raqib though somehow makes my Eid more meaningful. Marsya already has three pairs of baju kurung courtesy of my Ayah, Maksu and Acik (both are Ibu’s sisters). Raqib only has one pair of baju melayu which I think is enough already considering he’s only four months anyway. Each of them has a few non-baju melayu and kurung to be worn after the first raya, so yeah, I think we’re ok there.
I guess Eid is meant for the young ones. I think they’re the ones who would enjoy Eid. The grown-ups are ok with it. Eid comes, and Eid goes. Everything else remains the same. I think that’s what they feel. I don’t know. That’s what I feel. Yeah it’s nice to visit relatives and old friends, but that’s just it. And of course it’s nice when thinking about the raya goodies. Somehow food during Eid seems to be most delicious. I guess after a month of fasting, any type of food that can be eaten during the day is heaven. Oh well, look at it this way. Eid is a time to gather with our loved ones, to strengthen the bonding and relationship between family members so that we will cherish the memories when we’re old later. After all, no one can take our memories from us.
Thus, I am taking the opportunity to wish everyone here, SELAMAT HARI RAYA AIDILFITRI MAAF ZAHIR DAN BATIN… make the best of this Eid to create fond and wonderful memories; something for later.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Got Tagged on Ramadhan Food
I got tagged by a dear friend to list down the type of foods that we drool over during Ramadhan. Hehehe… this is for you Pah.
Name 5 food that you feel like having now:
1. McDonald’s beef foldover
2. Big fat Marche’ sausages (yummmmyyy!!)
3. Creamy cheese and buttered mussels at Manhattan Fish Market
4. A&W root beer float
5. Extra cheese seafood lasagna
Name 5 food you would like to have for breakfast if you could (as in sahur, ok):
1. Nasi putih with prawn sambal and steamed / soupy vegetables
2. Nasi goreng kampong with Ramly chicken nuggets
3. Singapore style bihun goreng
4. Black pepper fried udon
5. Penang char kuey tiow
Name 5 food you would most likely buy for berbuka today:
1. Tau foo fa
2. Ayam percik
3. Bubur pulut hitam
4. Chicken murtabak
5. Ikan bakar
The people I’m going to tag will definitely be:
1. Pisces Man
2. Hazyr
3. Manal
4. Zha (in comment box will do)
5. Min (if you’re reading, in comment box will do)
Note though that since Syawal is just round the corner, I suggest you get to doing it soon. Wouldn’t want to miss the Ramadhan atmosphere.
Have fun, especially since you’re fasting and all.
Name 5 food that you feel like having now:
1. McDonald’s beef foldover
2. Big fat Marche’ sausages (yummmmyyy!!)
3. Creamy cheese and buttered mussels at Manhattan Fish Market
4. A&W root beer float
5. Extra cheese seafood lasagna
Name 5 food you would like to have for breakfast if you could (as in sahur, ok):
1. Nasi putih with prawn sambal and steamed / soupy vegetables
2. Nasi goreng kampong with Ramly chicken nuggets
3. Singapore style bihun goreng
4. Black pepper fried udon
5. Penang char kuey tiow
Name 5 food you would most likely buy for berbuka today:
1. Tau foo fa
2. Ayam percik
3. Bubur pulut hitam
4. Chicken murtabak
5. Ikan bakar
The people I’m going to tag will definitely be:
1. Pisces Man
2. Hazyr
3. Manal
4. Zha (in comment box will do)
5. Min (if you’re reading, in comment box will do)
Note though that since Syawal is just round the corner, I suggest you get to doing it soon. Wouldn’t want to miss the Ramadhan atmosphere.
Have fun, especially since you’re fasting and all.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Tiredness Can Lead To Anger
My routine during the Ramadhan month is a bit tiring. Basically, I wake up at 4.30am every morning for sahur, heat up the food and lay them on the table, get Bie and my brother to wake up to eat, eat and later clear the table and wash up the dishes. After that, I will iron the clothes that I am to wear to work and shower to get ready to go to work. After I am ready, I will wake Bie up and together with our Marsya and Raqib, we will go to the car and proceed to PJ, to my Maksu’s place who is currently baby-sitting both my children.
From PJ, Bie will send me to work and my day at work begins. When the clock strikes 4.30pm, I got ready to leave the office. I need to go to Maksu’s house and help her prepare the dishes for iftar. With the baby and all, it is quite impossible for her to prepare any dish alone (Raqib likes to be held these days). After iftar and Maghrib, we will get ready to go back home. Tarawikh at the surau is far from it. We will reach the house at about 9.30pm.
Before washing myself up, I will go straight to the kitchen to prepare dishes for sahur. Usually a minimum of two dishes. If Maksu packs some food then I don’t have to prepare anymore dishes. If I’m lucky, Raqib will be fast asleep. If I’m not, I have to put Raqib to sleep first, then cook. After the baby’s asleep and the foods have all been prepared, I will wash myself, pray and get ready to go to sleep. That is if my daughter isn’t showing any tantrum and doesn’t allow me to go to sleep. And that was what happened last night.
I was in the kitchen preparing food and suddenly there was a cry in the bedroom. Marsya was having nightmares. She was crying at the top of her lungs. Raqib was asleep and I was afraid that her crying was going to wake him up. I went to her cot and tried to coax her into going back to sleep, but she pushed my hand away and kept on crying. Bie wasn’t around. He had to go to Mont Kiara for work.
Her crying got rather loud. I ignored her and went back to the kitchen. For about 20 minutes, she cried non-stop. I went to her cot again and gently told her to go back to sleep. But she would not. The crying still went on. And for no reason whatsoever, I became angry. Very angry. I had to tell myself to be patient and that she was just a little child. But her screaming got to me. And the fact that she didn’t want to stop angered me even more. So I did the unthinkable. I slapped her hard on the thigh. She stopped crying and looked at me in shock. And her cries after that were even harder and louder. I went back to kitchen muttering to myself. Obviously mad at her and mad at myself for not being able to control it.
I felt bad. I went back to the bedroom and gently asked her what she wanted. She said she wanted water. She was thirsty. I felt awful. Here was my daughter wanting water and what did she get from me? A hard slap on the thigh. My eyes were stinging and within seconds, tears were streaming down my eyes. I got her a cup of water and held on it while she drank. I kissed the crop of her hair. She seemed so helpless. Eyes puffy with all the crying. Then I placed the cup on the dressing table and hugged her tight. I picked her up and held her tight to my bosom and brought her outside in front of the TV.
On the sofa, she held on me tight, no longer crying and told me that her thigh hurt. I felt awful. She was no longer crying, instead, I was the one who was crying. I laid her on the sofa and lie next to her, hugging her, coaxing her into going back to sleep. She didn’t go back to sleep so I had to appease her. Talk to her and play with her while Sesame Street was on.
At 12 something in the morning, Bie came back. I told him that my head was hurting and I needed to sleep badly. So he asked me to go to the bedroom and sleep. Marsya was all tantrums again wanting to sleep with me, wanting me to hug her. So Bie laid her on the bed next to me, and she fell asleep hugging me.
I was so ashamed at what I did. I was dead tired but of course that was no excuse to get angry with your child and slap her… [sigh]. These are testy times for me. I pray to Allah to give me the strength to go on. I am positive that things will be better soon, Insya Allah and I vow to try not to raise my hand on my children unless I really have to and that’s to teach them between right and wrong. Not to vent anger and frustration. I pray for Allah to give me that strength. Amin.
From PJ, Bie will send me to work and my day at work begins. When the clock strikes 4.30pm, I got ready to leave the office. I need to go to Maksu’s house and help her prepare the dishes for iftar. With the baby and all, it is quite impossible for her to prepare any dish alone (Raqib likes to be held these days). After iftar and Maghrib, we will get ready to go back home. Tarawikh at the surau is far from it. We will reach the house at about 9.30pm.
Before washing myself up, I will go straight to the kitchen to prepare dishes for sahur. Usually a minimum of two dishes. If Maksu packs some food then I don’t have to prepare anymore dishes. If I’m lucky, Raqib will be fast asleep. If I’m not, I have to put Raqib to sleep first, then cook. After the baby’s asleep and the foods have all been prepared, I will wash myself, pray and get ready to go to sleep. That is if my daughter isn’t showing any tantrum and doesn’t allow me to go to sleep. And that was what happened last night.
I was in the kitchen preparing food and suddenly there was a cry in the bedroom. Marsya was having nightmares. She was crying at the top of her lungs. Raqib was asleep and I was afraid that her crying was going to wake him up. I went to her cot and tried to coax her into going back to sleep, but she pushed my hand away and kept on crying. Bie wasn’t around. He had to go to Mont Kiara for work.
Her crying got rather loud. I ignored her and went back to the kitchen. For about 20 minutes, she cried non-stop. I went to her cot again and gently told her to go back to sleep. But she would not. The crying still went on. And for no reason whatsoever, I became angry. Very angry. I had to tell myself to be patient and that she was just a little child. But her screaming got to me. And the fact that she didn’t want to stop angered me even more. So I did the unthinkable. I slapped her hard on the thigh. She stopped crying and looked at me in shock. And her cries after that were even harder and louder. I went back to kitchen muttering to myself. Obviously mad at her and mad at myself for not being able to control it.
I felt bad. I went back to the bedroom and gently asked her what she wanted. She said she wanted water. She was thirsty. I felt awful. Here was my daughter wanting water and what did she get from me? A hard slap on the thigh. My eyes were stinging and within seconds, tears were streaming down my eyes. I got her a cup of water and held on it while she drank. I kissed the crop of her hair. She seemed so helpless. Eyes puffy with all the crying. Then I placed the cup on the dressing table and hugged her tight. I picked her up and held her tight to my bosom and brought her outside in front of the TV.
On the sofa, she held on me tight, no longer crying and told me that her thigh hurt. I felt awful. She was no longer crying, instead, I was the one who was crying. I laid her on the sofa and lie next to her, hugging her, coaxing her into going back to sleep. She didn’t go back to sleep so I had to appease her. Talk to her and play with her while Sesame Street was on.
At 12 something in the morning, Bie came back. I told him that my head was hurting and I needed to sleep badly. So he asked me to go to the bedroom and sleep. Marsya was all tantrums again wanting to sleep with me, wanting me to hug her. So Bie laid her on the bed next to me, and she fell asleep hugging me.
I was so ashamed at what I did. I was dead tired but of course that was no excuse to get angry with your child and slap her… [sigh]. These are testy times for me. I pray to Allah to give me the strength to go on. I am positive that things will be better soon, Insya Allah and I vow to try not to raise my hand on my children unless I really have to and that’s to teach them between right and wrong. Not to vent anger and frustration. I pray for Allah to give me that strength. Amin.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
DNA Tests Confirms it
I feel so sad. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I read the news. It can’t be. It can’t be Nurin. Sweet Nurin whose pictures are all over the place. The girl found had short hair and weighed only 18kg. There was no BCG on her and she had a birthmark on her thigh. Her teeth were also gaping. Nurin’s father said the girl was not his. His girl has nice teeth and no birthmark. But DNA tests have confirmed it. And it is very hard to ignore the results of a DNA test.
I can’t imagine being in her father’s place right now. I know that DNA tests are strong and valid, but deep in my heart I hope that the poor girl is not Nurin. I hope that there was some mixed up or something and that the results were wrong. I hope that Nurin will come home safely. I hope…
Whatever it is, arwah Nurin is in my prayers. I hope she didn’t have to endure much before she passed on. I hope that Allah had taken her life just before she could feel all the pain. I pray for her soul and the souls of all other little girls who died after being sexually assaulted, like Nurul Huda, the Gelang Patah case and Harirawati in Kota Kinabalu.
We live in a wicked, wicked place. Do take care of your loved ones, and do pray that these sick bastards will not harm our children anymore.
I can’t imagine being in her father’s place right now. I know that DNA tests are strong and valid, but deep in my heart I hope that the poor girl is not Nurin. I hope that there was some mixed up or something and that the results were wrong. I hope that Nurin will come home safely. I hope…
Whatever it is, arwah Nurin is in my prayers. I hope she didn’t have to endure much before she passed on. I hope that Allah had taken her life just before she could feel all the pain. I pray for her soul and the souls of all other little girls who died after being sexually assaulted, like Nurul Huda, the Gelang Patah case and Harirawati in Kota Kinabalu.
We live in a wicked, wicked place. Do take care of your loved ones, and do pray that these sick bastards will not harm our children anymore.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Such Tragedy
I just saw the paper and the headline “Child Found Sexually Assaulted and Killed” got my attention. I didn’t see the news last night so I wasn’t aware of this particular incident.
I read through it and was schocked to the bones when I found out what it was about. I couldn’t believe it. My eyes were stinging and without I realize it, I began to sniffle. A six to nine year old girl’s naked body was found in a sports bag at a staircase of a shop lot in PJ. There were bruises on her neck, hands, and a post mortem revealed that a cucumber and a brinjal were found in the girl’s private parts.
She was still a very young child, for God’s sake. How could this sick bastard do that? The person who did this should not be left alive. I feel that his testicles should be cut off, a huge pipe be inserted in his anus, then tie him to a truck and drive the truck at at least 80km per hour. If he’s still alive after that, do not treat him. Stone him and let him die a slow and painful death.
I know it’s evil of me to conjure up such things for him but I am so angry. I am very angry. Shocked and goodness, no other words can describe my feelings at the moment. I truly oppose violence and death to young children.
What is happening to the Malaysian society? I so fear for my children’s safety. I don’t know what will happen to me if my children are faced with such violence and cruelty. I can’t imagine how the girl’s parents must have felt when they learnt the news. It’s terrible. Malaysia is no longer peaceful. We have many maniacs living among us and it’s very scary to know that these maniacs may be those that we know or are close to. I curse whoever did this. I do. I hope the police will find him soon and I hope he’ll get what he deserves.
My condolences go to the parents. I can’t give much of kind words and gestures because truly I’d hate to imagine how they’re feeling at the moment. One can only imagine, but the parents are the ones who are facing it. I pray that the girl’s soul will be placed with the sinless and the righteous, and that her perpetrator will be executed fairly i.e. a slow and painful death.
I read through it and was schocked to the bones when I found out what it was about. I couldn’t believe it. My eyes were stinging and without I realize it, I began to sniffle. A six to nine year old girl’s naked body was found in a sports bag at a staircase of a shop lot in PJ. There were bruises on her neck, hands, and a post mortem revealed that a cucumber and a brinjal were found in the girl’s private parts.
She was still a very young child, for God’s sake. How could this sick bastard do that? The person who did this should not be left alive. I feel that his testicles should be cut off, a huge pipe be inserted in his anus, then tie him to a truck and drive the truck at at least 80km per hour. If he’s still alive after that, do not treat him. Stone him and let him die a slow and painful death.
I know it’s evil of me to conjure up such things for him but I am so angry. I am very angry. Shocked and goodness, no other words can describe my feelings at the moment. I truly oppose violence and death to young children.
What is happening to the Malaysian society? I so fear for my children’s safety. I don’t know what will happen to me if my children are faced with such violence and cruelty. I can’t imagine how the girl’s parents must have felt when they learnt the news. It’s terrible. Malaysia is no longer peaceful. We have many maniacs living among us and it’s very scary to know that these maniacs may be those that we know or are close to. I curse whoever did this. I do. I hope the police will find him soon and I hope he’ll get what he deserves.
My condolences go to the parents. I can’t give much of kind words and gestures because truly I’d hate to imagine how they’re feeling at the moment. One can only imagine, but the parents are the ones who are facing it. I pray that the girl’s soul will be placed with the sinless and the righteous, and that her perpetrator will be executed fairly i.e. a slow and painful death.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Puppy Love
I was at the hospital yesterday to meet my surgeon and gynecologist. Suddenly, a familiar face walked in. Though slightly chubbier with a little touch of beard and moustache, I know that I will always recognize the face. In fact, my heart was thudding quite fast the minute I realized who it was.
He went straight to a lady wearing a head-dress and sat down next to her. I tried not to look at him but it was difficult. I just had to see his face to satisfy my curiosity. I just wanted to know whether it was him. But of course, I myself was acting cool. I pretended not to see him. But I was caught. As I waited to see Dr As, he and the lady moved to a sofa opposite of me. Man, now I can’t pretend not to see him. But still I ignored him. I played with Raqib and at the same time talked to Marsya. Bie was at the counter sorting out my bills.
Suddenly the nurse called out my name, asking me to get weighed. I passed Raqib to Bie and went to the scale. My weight was alright. But I think I still need to work on the excess fats. Anyway, as I walked back to the sofa, I couldn’t resist myself. I mean, I can continue to play the ‘ignore game’ or asked him if he was who I thought he was. So I walked up to him and said, “Excuse me, but are you A?”. He smiled and looked at me. His face clearly showed that he still remembered me but his response was otherwise. He said, “Yes, I am”.
All nervousness was gone. He said he thought it was me, but he wasn’t sure until the nurse called out my name. I immediately introduced him to Bie. Bie asked us how we got to know each other. I gave a simple reply not wanting to give too much information. A was being nice though and told Bie that we were from the same residential area i.e. ‘setaman’. In fact, he still remembers where I live. I smiled. How could he forget where I live? And as for me, I sure as heck know where he lives. It was such a small world. His wife’s gynecologist was actually the same as mine.
We talked. The way he talks was somewhat familiar. I couldn’t let my eyes off his face. Bie didn’t notice anything though. His wife was friendly too. Apparently they have three kids now, the eldest being seven years old. I know. He was married when I was still doing my degree. We exchanged cards and since he’s an old friend, Bie is thinking of inviting him and the family if we decide to do any ‘makan-makan’ later.
Seeing him brought back nice memories. I got to know him when I was in Form 4. We didn’t go to the same school. His was a neighbouring school whereas mine was the glamorous one in town (I can’t resist. I just have to say it.. hehehe) I somehow have a huge crush on him. Totally huge. And he was aware of that. We would meet at the bus stand and go back together in the bus since we both stay in the same ‘taman’. We have never actually dated outside, alone. But we were constantly on the phone. And if he was playing soccer with some friends at the football field in the evenings, I would be there at the field, watching him. I liked him. To the max. In fact, I was obsessed with him. My friends knew this and at one point or another, he became aware of this as well. It was really my very first crush that I thought was really serious. I didn’t have boyfriends after I met him. In fact, I would put him as a benchmark whenever a guy approached me. He actually made quite a huge impact on my adolescent life. He was also the first guy that I have ever confessed of liking. Even at that time he had a girlfriend. I don’t know why we never made it as a couple. Yeah we flirted, but that was it. I mean, I couldn’t very well ask him to be my boyfriend. He had to make the first move. But he didn’t. I learnt from friends (yes I had spies at his school… hehehe) that the boyfriend-girlfriend arrangement he had with his girlfriend too was not his doing. The girl started it. He went along with it and of course after that, he must have liked her.
I remember when I first saw him walking with his girlfriend towards the bus stand (he had to walk around my school coz my school was smack in the middle of the town) and my friends saw him. They made a buzz. I was upset (silly isn’t it? well that’s what being a teenager is all about) and the song ‘Teratai Layu di Tasik Madu’ became my companion (thinking about it now made me feel stupid… hehehe). And that was how I knew he had a girlfriend. But we remained as friends. All the way till after school, when the SPM results were announced. He borrowed my video tapes and would come to my house to return them. We would sit outside near the gates and talked. His friends would pass by on motorcycles and he would wave to them. At that time, I think he had split from his girlfriend. But I don’t know why he didn’t ask me to become his. I probably wasn’t pretty enough, I don’t know.
But yeah, from thereon whenever I met a guy, A would always be the benchmark. I don’t know what it is about him that got me attracted. I guess it was the way he talked, or his charms. He wasn’t THAT handsome and he was dark, but to me at that time, he was the most handsome and charming guy in the whole world. Even Ibu knew about him. When I was in the UK, Ibu called me just to let me know that A was getting married. Though I had been out of contact with him for a few years back then, somehow the news made me upset. And I was even with Bie at that time. I still remember Bie saying, “You dah ada I kan, buat apa you nak sedih?”. I couldn’t help it. He was my extreme puppy love.
On the way home from the hospital, I revealed to Bie who A was. His expression immediately changed, he laughed out loud, and said, “I rasa I lagi hensem daripada dia” i.e. Bie thinks he’s more handsome than A. Looking back, yes. Bie probably is. Well, not so much of the handsome bit but more to the appearance bit. Bie still has his youthfulness when he presents himself. His appearance doesn’t make him look old though he’s got plenty of grey hairs now. Though he wears collared t-shirt and slack, he doesn’t look like someone’s old uncle. He still has fashion sense that makes him look good. To me at least (I may be biased coz after all I am his wife). And me, well I am not really a fashion icon, trust me but somehow we try to emulate one another; make each other look good in our own weird ways. And I like that. It’s comforting. As for A, well… he looks more like someone’s old uncle now. His wife also looks like someone’s aunt. But they both complement each other rather well. So I guess it’s fair. Me and Bie, A and wife.
So there, it was good to see him. A lot of fond memories flashed back, but I don’t think I’d trade Bie for him. At that time I didn’t know who Bie was. Bie had not yet existed in my life. But the minute he existed, he was my first real love. A was just a puppy love. Nice at that time but not real enough.
He went straight to a lady wearing a head-dress and sat down next to her. I tried not to look at him but it was difficult. I just had to see his face to satisfy my curiosity. I just wanted to know whether it was him. But of course, I myself was acting cool. I pretended not to see him. But I was caught. As I waited to see Dr As, he and the lady moved to a sofa opposite of me. Man, now I can’t pretend not to see him. But still I ignored him. I played with Raqib and at the same time talked to Marsya. Bie was at the counter sorting out my bills.
Suddenly the nurse called out my name, asking me to get weighed. I passed Raqib to Bie and went to the scale. My weight was alright. But I think I still need to work on the excess fats. Anyway, as I walked back to the sofa, I couldn’t resist myself. I mean, I can continue to play the ‘ignore game’ or asked him if he was who I thought he was. So I walked up to him and said, “Excuse me, but are you A?”. He smiled and looked at me. His face clearly showed that he still remembered me but his response was otherwise. He said, “Yes, I am”.
All nervousness was gone. He said he thought it was me, but he wasn’t sure until the nurse called out my name. I immediately introduced him to Bie. Bie asked us how we got to know each other. I gave a simple reply not wanting to give too much information. A was being nice though and told Bie that we were from the same residential area i.e. ‘setaman’. In fact, he still remembers where I live. I smiled. How could he forget where I live? And as for me, I sure as heck know where he lives. It was such a small world. His wife’s gynecologist was actually the same as mine.
We talked. The way he talks was somewhat familiar. I couldn’t let my eyes off his face. Bie didn’t notice anything though. His wife was friendly too. Apparently they have three kids now, the eldest being seven years old. I know. He was married when I was still doing my degree. We exchanged cards and since he’s an old friend, Bie is thinking of inviting him and the family if we decide to do any ‘makan-makan’ later.
Seeing him brought back nice memories. I got to know him when I was in Form 4. We didn’t go to the same school. His was a neighbouring school whereas mine was the glamorous one in town (I can’t resist. I just have to say it.. hehehe) I somehow have a huge crush on him. Totally huge. And he was aware of that. We would meet at the bus stand and go back together in the bus since we both stay in the same ‘taman’. We have never actually dated outside, alone. But we were constantly on the phone. And if he was playing soccer with some friends at the football field in the evenings, I would be there at the field, watching him. I liked him. To the max. In fact, I was obsessed with him. My friends knew this and at one point or another, he became aware of this as well. It was really my very first crush that I thought was really serious. I didn’t have boyfriends after I met him. In fact, I would put him as a benchmark whenever a guy approached me. He actually made quite a huge impact on my adolescent life. He was also the first guy that I have ever confessed of liking. Even at that time he had a girlfriend. I don’t know why we never made it as a couple. Yeah we flirted, but that was it. I mean, I couldn’t very well ask him to be my boyfriend. He had to make the first move. But he didn’t. I learnt from friends (yes I had spies at his school… hehehe) that the boyfriend-girlfriend arrangement he had with his girlfriend too was not his doing. The girl started it. He went along with it and of course after that, he must have liked her.
I remember when I first saw him walking with his girlfriend towards the bus stand (he had to walk around my school coz my school was smack in the middle of the town) and my friends saw him. They made a buzz. I was upset (silly isn’t it? well that’s what being a teenager is all about) and the song ‘Teratai Layu di Tasik Madu’ became my companion (thinking about it now made me feel stupid… hehehe). And that was how I knew he had a girlfriend. But we remained as friends. All the way till after school, when the SPM results were announced. He borrowed my video tapes and would come to my house to return them. We would sit outside near the gates and talked. His friends would pass by on motorcycles and he would wave to them. At that time, I think he had split from his girlfriend. But I don’t know why he didn’t ask me to become his. I probably wasn’t pretty enough, I don’t know.
But yeah, from thereon whenever I met a guy, A would always be the benchmark. I don’t know what it is about him that got me attracted. I guess it was the way he talked, or his charms. He wasn’t THAT handsome and he was dark, but to me at that time, he was the most handsome and charming guy in the whole world. Even Ibu knew about him. When I was in the UK, Ibu called me just to let me know that A was getting married. Though I had been out of contact with him for a few years back then, somehow the news made me upset. And I was even with Bie at that time. I still remember Bie saying, “You dah ada I kan, buat apa you nak sedih?”. I couldn’t help it. He was my extreme puppy love.
On the way home from the hospital, I revealed to Bie who A was. His expression immediately changed, he laughed out loud, and said, “I rasa I lagi hensem daripada dia” i.e. Bie thinks he’s more handsome than A. Looking back, yes. Bie probably is. Well, not so much of the handsome bit but more to the appearance bit. Bie still has his youthfulness when he presents himself. His appearance doesn’t make him look old though he’s got plenty of grey hairs now. Though he wears collared t-shirt and slack, he doesn’t look like someone’s old uncle. He still has fashion sense that makes him look good. To me at least (I may be biased coz after all I am his wife). And me, well I am not really a fashion icon, trust me but somehow we try to emulate one another; make each other look good in our own weird ways. And I like that. It’s comforting. As for A, well… he looks more like someone’s old uncle now. His wife also looks like someone’s aunt. But they both complement each other rather well. So I guess it’s fair. Me and Bie, A and wife.
So there, it was good to see him. A lot of fond memories flashed back, but I don’t think I’d trade Bie for him. At that time I didn’t know who Bie was. Bie had not yet existed in my life. But the minute he existed, he was my first real love. A was just a puppy love. Nice at that time but not real enough.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Another Monday
Mondays have never been a good day for me (Bie always call my Sunday nights as a ‘get-worked-up-and-all-moody-night’ in view of the coming Monday. I’d get all moody especially when I feel tired when waking up in the morning. And rushing to get ready to work isn’t something that we refer to as a fun thing. Today is no difference.
I was from Seremban this morning. Though how hard I try to leave the house early, at least at 6.45am, I would always end up leaving at 7.00am and sometimes, a little later. And the fact that I need to go to PJ to send my kids isn’t really helping. So in the end, I’d reach the office quite late. I hate being late to the office. Bie’s working on his own. So it doesn’t really matter what time he reaches his office as long as he is there.
What pisses me off is the fact that he can remain calm about the whole thing (I know some of my girlfriends agree with me on this). And whenever I make an issue of being late and everything, he would always turn it around and make it my fault, well indirectly. It makes me so mad. I made sure that the bags are packed before I went to bed last night. I made sure that the clothes are already ironed. I woke up at 6.00am this morning, but after doing that and doing this, preparing that and preparing this, I would always end up late. He blamed it on the traffic. Hello… it’s not so much of traffic. It’s us. We have to organize our time so that we wouldn’t end up late. The traffic will always be there. So to avoid it, get around it by leaving the house early.
I reached the office at 9.00am this morning, that’s like half an hour late. I hate it. I remember when I used to drive to work by myself; I would reach the office within a range of 7.30am to 7.45am. But now with just one car at our disposal, and the fact that we have two kids to send off instead of one, I can’t enjoy reaching the office early anymore. Oh well, I can’t blame it entirely on Bie (I so badly want to point my fingers at him), I guess I am partly to blame also. But when he sees that I am already late, please oh please don’t take your sweet time and remain relaxed about it. Hasten yourself. Do whatever that is necessary to contribute to me not being late to the office.
This is just me, on a normal Monday morning. I usually get so much better after lunch, so please be patient.
I was from Seremban this morning. Though how hard I try to leave the house early, at least at 6.45am, I would always end up leaving at 7.00am and sometimes, a little later. And the fact that I need to go to PJ to send my kids isn’t really helping. So in the end, I’d reach the office quite late. I hate being late to the office. Bie’s working on his own. So it doesn’t really matter what time he reaches his office as long as he is there.
What pisses me off is the fact that he can remain calm about the whole thing (I know some of my girlfriends agree with me on this). And whenever I make an issue of being late and everything, he would always turn it around and make it my fault, well indirectly. It makes me so mad. I made sure that the bags are packed before I went to bed last night. I made sure that the clothes are already ironed. I woke up at 6.00am this morning, but after doing that and doing this, preparing that and preparing this, I would always end up late. He blamed it on the traffic. Hello… it’s not so much of traffic. It’s us. We have to organize our time so that we wouldn’t end up late. The traffic will always be there. So to avoid it, get around it by leaving the house early.
I reached the office at 9.00am this morning, that’s like half an hour late. I hate it. I remember when I used to drive to work by myself; I would reach the office within a range of 7.30am to 7.45am. But now with just one car at our disposal, and the fact that we have two kids to send off instead of one, I can’t enjoy reaching the office early anymore. Oh well, I can’t blame it entirely on Bie (I so badly want to point my fingers at him), I guess I am partly to blame also. But when he sees that I am already late, please oh please don’t take your sweet time and remain relaxed about it. Hasten yourself. Do whatever that is necessary to contribute to me not being late to the office.
This is just me, on a normal Monday morning. I usually get so much better after lunch, so please be patient.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Have Two of Them Now
I have been extremely busy. For those who do not know, I have returned to work from my two-month maternity leave. It’s actually very short. At first I felt that the two months was going to be long. But after I got better, I felt that the two months were just too short. There were still a lot of things I haven’t done yet. I had wanted to take an extra week off, but my boss was constantly calling me, so I had no choice but to come in right on my 61st day.
I wanted to update the blog with stories and pictures of my new baby. His name is Muhammad Raqib. But since I didn’t have the time, I couldn’t draft anything. Only some of his pictures are uploaded into my PC. Bie unfortunately has been quite busy and not at the office to do the uploading of the pictures. Nevertheless, Raqib is now 6kg. Well, I assume he’s already 6kg because during the doctor’s appointment about three weeks ago, he was already 5.9kg. That’s like 1kg every month. I’m still breastfeeding him. I have been expressing milk at the work place and Alhamdullilah, as at to date, my milk seems to be sufficient. I hope it’ll be sufficient in months to come.
Raqib is just so adorable (I’m biased coz I’m his mother) and he likes attention. He wants people to constantly talk to him. He would of course respond in his own baby-ish ways. The goo-goo and ga-ga that come from his mouth is just so ear-pleasing. I can talk to him all day. But of course, I can’t do much work then. He still has this baby smell. Frankly speaking, I don’t know this smell that people talk about. All I can smell of him is milk. My milk that is. It can be in a form of a fresh milk, or stale milk, or thrown up milk. But I love his smell all the same.
He likes to smile and I love seeing his teeth-less gums. Gums with no teeth looks so cute in a baby’s mouth, but I wonder why people, when they’ve come of age and are suddenly toothless looks really ridiculous. The mystery of the world.
Anyhow, his sister adores him very much. But she can be very jealous and possessive. Yes she wouldn’t allow other people to take her little brother (the usual, “Aunty ambik adik bawak balik boleh tak?” whereby the reply would be, “tak bolehlah”), but whenever Raqib is not lying on my lap, she would immediately scramble to her feet and climb into my lap. There were also times whereby she wanted to sleep with me but because I needed to put the baby to sleep, she became all tantrums and cried herself to sleep. On those occasions, the minute Raqib is asleep, I would go to Marsya and sleep next to her. She would be very happy. She would hug me while sleeping or read some books for me (in her own toddler language) until she fell asleep.
But she loves to whine these days. Sakit tulah, sakit nilah. And she wants me to attend to her ‘sakit’. If her father does it for her, she’d get all mad and will not stop whining until I personally look at her. I don’t blame her though. So used to being the only one that everyone pays attention to and suddenly her place is being taken over by her little brother, of course she whines and merajuk a lot. Sometimes, her constant craving for attention is just so much that Bie and I become very tired. But she is after all our eldest, so despite her constant screaming and whining, we love her still very much and try to please her in any way we can, just so that she’ll be alright during this adjustment period.
I too have some adjustments to do. Let’s just say that when both my kids cry at the top of their lungs, I have learnt to shut one ear and be deaf for a while, well at least until I finish whatever it is that I have to do. But my God, it is very hard to do. I respect those women who have more than two kids and yet are able to take care of them and do the house chores without a maid at their disposal. 110 percent respect for them.
Whatever it is, I love both my kids very much. And truthfully, I don’t mind having more, but not just as yet. Perhaps three years down the road, who knows. Anyhow, here are some pictures of Raqib.
I wanted to update the blog with stories and pictures of my new baby. His name is Muhammad Raqib. But since I didn’t have the time, I couldn’t draft anything. Only some of his pictures are uploaded into my PC. Bie unfortunately has been quite busy and not at the office to do the uploading of the pictures. Nevertheless, Raqib is now 6kg. Well, I assume he’s already 6kg because during the doctor’s appointment about three weeks ago, he was already 5.9kg. That’s like 1kg every month. I’m still breastfeeding him. I have been expressing milk at the work place and Alhamdullilah, as at to date, my milk seems to be sufficient. I hope it’ll be sufficient in months to come.
Raqib is just so adorable (I’m biased coz I’m his mother) and he likes attention. He wants people to constantly talk to him. He would of course respond in his own baby-ish ways. The goo-goo and ga-ga that come from his mouth is just so ear-pleasing. I can talk to him all day. But of course, I can’t do much work then. He still has this baby smell. Frankly speaking, I don’t know this smell that people talk about. All I can smell of him is milk. My milk that is. It can be in a form of a fresh milk, or stale milk, or thrown up milk. But I love his smell all the same.
He likes to smile and I love seeing his teeth-less gums. Gums with no teeth looks so cute in a baby’s mouth, but I wonder why people, when they’ve come of age and are suddenly toothless looks really ridiculous. The mystery of the world.
Anyhow, his sister adores him very much. But she can be very jealous and possessive. Yes she wouldn’t allow other people to take her little brother (the usual, “Aunty ambik adik bawak balik boleh tak?” whereby the reply would be, “tak bolehlah”), but whenever Raqib is not lying on my lap, she would immediately scramble to her feet and climb into my lap. There were also times whereby she wanted to sleep with me but because I needed to put the baby to sleep, she became all tantrums and cried herself to sleep. On those occasions, the minute Raqib is asleep, I would go to Marsya and sleep next to her. She would be very happy. She would hug me while sleeping or read some books for me (in her own toddler language) until she fell asleep.
But she loves to whine these days. Sakit tulah, sakit nilah. And she wants me to attend to her ‘sakit’. If her father does it for her, she’d get all mad and will not stop whining until I personally look at her. I don’t blame her though. So used to being the only one that everyone pays attention to and suddenly her place is being taken over by her little brother, of course she whines and merajuk a lot. Sometimes, her constant craving for attention is just so much that Bie and I become very tired. But she is after all our eldest, so despite her constant screaming and whining, we love her still very much and try to please her in any way we can, just so that she’ll be alright during this adjustment period.
I too have some adjustments to do. Let’s just say that when both my kids cry at the top of their lungs, I have learnt to shut one ear and be deaf for a while, well at least until I finish whatever it is that I have to do. But my God, it is very hard to do. I respect those women who have more than two kids and yet are able to take care of them and do the house chores without a maid at their disposal. 110 percent respect for them.
Whatever it is, I love both my kids very much. And truthfully, I don’t mind having more, but not just as yet. Perhaps three years down the road, who knows. Anyhow, here are some pictures of Raqib.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Till Death Do Us Part
There have been no break-ups or separation in my family, which includes my aunts and uncles on both my parents’ side. That doesn’t mean that they don’t argue, coz I’m sure they do. But somehow the word ‘divorce’ is like a taboo. They’d rather stay with each other even if they’re doing two very separate thing. One would be at the golf course or hanging out with friends, while the partner would be doing over time at the office. When relatives come to visit, they’d play the role of a happy and normal couple, which I think is really weird. But separate? I don’t know whether the idea ever entered their minds.
Among my friends too, well close friends that is, not many of their parents are divorced. Their parents would have problems, but somehow, they’d stick together. I know of a friend whose father is really…err… a bit of a problem. He would have girlfriends and all, and hung out at few ‘dangdut’ spots. There was this one time, my friend’s boyfriend was playing (he’s in a band) at this particular dangdut joint and imagined his surprise when he saw his prospective, future father-in-law dancing with another woman who was not his wife. My friend was really upset but when she told her mother, her mother just kept quiet. The last time I heard, they’re still married but just not living under the same roof.
Sometimes I wonder why these couples stay together if emotionally and perhaps physically, they have already drifted apart from one another. Is it for the children? But what if the children have all grown up? I’m sure they would understand if their parents want a divorce. But come to think of it, would I be able to accept the idea that my parents are going to get a divorce? This is hypothetically speaking, ok. My parents are not divorced.
I don’t know. It’s hard to say. Some couples stay together for the sake of the children. But when the children have all grown up and are mature to understand what’s going on, they head for Splits Ville. I wonder what it’s like for those children. Would they be ok with it? Would they hate their parents’ guts? Would they have taken a different view if their parents were to have divorced when they were much younger?
It’s really nice to see some couples who not only stay old together, but are still loving and caring towards one another. The fact that they are not embarrassed to show the affections they have is even more remarkable. But alas, not many Malaysians are like that. Sad to admit it, but it’s true. I guess it’s the culture. Well, I pray that I am one of those couples. And I pray that my parents are one of those happy couples as well.
Among my friends too, well close friends that is, not many of their parents are divorced. Their parents would have problems, but somehow, they’d stick together. I know of a friend whose father is really…err… a bit of a problem. He would have girlfriends and all, and hung out at few ‘dangdut’ spots. There was this one time, my friend’s boyfriend was playing (he’s in a band) at this particular dangdut joint and imagined his surprise when he saw his prospective, future father-in-law dancing with another woman who was not his wife. My friend was really upset but when she told her mother, her mother just kept quiet. The last time I heard, they’re still married but just not living under the same roof.
Sometimes I wonder why these couples stay together if emotionally and perhaps physically, they have already drifted apart from one another. Is it for the children? But what if the children have all grown up? I’m sure they would understand if their parents want a divorce. But come to think of it, would I be able to accept the idea that my parents are going to get a divorce? This is hypothetically speaking, ok. My parents are not divorced.
I don’t know. It’s hard to say. Some couples stay together for the sake of the children. But when the children have all grown up and are mature to understand what’s going on, they head for Splits Ville. I wonder what it’s like for those children. Would they be ok with it? Would they hate their parents’ guts? Would they have taken a different view if their parents were to have divorced when they were much younger?
It’s really nice to see some couples who not only stay old together, but are still loving and caring towards one another. The fact that they are not embarrassed to show the affections they have is even more remarkable. But alas, not many Malaysians are like that. Sad to admit it, but it’s true. I guess it’s the culture. Well, I pray that I am one of those couples. And I pray that my parents are one of those happy couples as well.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Tagged For Charity
Actually, I don’t know how this meme helps me contribute towards the Darul Izzah Orphanage. But I guess there’s no harm in doing it, since I’ve been tagged to do it. Anyway, for more information, read the short note below:
The original meme sender, Bro Idham needed 100 memes by 26th August. Once this tag is done, please leave a comment on his blog to inform him that you have done the tag.
If you are tagged, you need to write an entry related to the meme. At the end of your entry you just need to tag as many bloggers as you like. You will then leave a comment in their blog to let them know they have been tagged. And to include this message, "By doing this meme you are contributing RM127 to the Darul Izzah Orphanage".
Then please copy and paste this rule somewhere in your entry.
The meme is about completing at least seventeen out of the following twenty seven sentences.
*These can be copied and pasted to your entry*
1. A person is only as good as ... his or her integrity, sincerity, manners and pure thoughts.
2. Friendship is always ... something important regardless of your status, age and surrounding.
3. To love is to... have someone to share your feelings, your thoughts, your sorrow, your happiness and everything else beyond that.
4. Money makes me... in a way, happy because I know I can afford to buy things and live comfortably, my way at least.
5. I miss ... single life where I can just do whatever I want without having to worry about the house, the kids, the husband.
6. My way of saying I care is by ... keeping in touch with those I care be it through the phone, or emails or making time to visit and meet up.
7. I try to spread love and happiness by... being myself by chit chatting, crack jokes, send long emails and quirky text messages, listen to people when they have problems and whatever else that those who love me know I would do.
8. Pick the flowers when... they are intended for me.
9. To love someone is to... share your feelings and thoughts, just like item 3 above.
10. Beauty is... subjective and depends on one’s eyes and perception.
11. When I was thirteen, what I remember the most was... the surprise party my classmates threw for me when they learnt that I was going to go back to Malaysia for good.
11. When I was thirteen, what I remember the most was... the surprise party my classmates threw for me when they learnt that I was going to go back to Malaysia for good.
12. When I was twenty one, I remember... the Girls throwing a small party just amongst us when we were in Dilston Road where they asked Kak Amy downstairs to bake a chocolate cake for me.
13. I am most happy when ... I know that those I love are happy and well and that I get to spend quality time with my husband and two kids.
14. Nothing makes me happier than ... knowing that the people around me are happy, well basically the same as item 13 above.
15. If I can change one thing, I will change... my salary, perhaps give myself a generous raise and a good bonus.
16. If smiles were.... contagious, I think all my face muscles would be screwed up coz I was smiling too much.
17. Wouldn't it be nice if we could... eliminate all the evil in the world so that the world becomes a safe and nicer place to live in.
18. If you want to ... gain people’s respect ...then you have to ... start respecting people.
19. Money is not everything but... considering today’s current living situation, having money and a lot of it, is very helpful indeed.
20. The most touching moment I have experienced is.... when I become Mrs Bie.
21. I smile when... I see anyone looking at me.
22. When I am happy, I... would be talking, smiling and laughing a lot.
23. If only I don't have to ... get a maid to take care of my children, but alas, considering the current arrangement, what choice do I have.
24. The best thing I did yesterday was... enjoy lauk sardin for the first time since my confinement period.
25. If I ever write a book, I will give it this title... " Unspoken Conflicts"
26. One thing I must do before I die is... ensure that my children will be well taken care of.
27. Doing this meme, I feel like ... deep in thoughts coz the meme opened my mind to some things which I have never thought about.
I have no particular person to tag.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Food Glorious Food
I love to eat and I eat all sorts of food. Bak kata orang, tolak batu and kayu je. And of course those which we’re forbidden to eat.
I love western food. I don’t know why. I guess the way the vegetables are cooked, or the way that the chicken or steak is grilled. They’re just so delicious. And the salad is just much better than the ones I do at home. I like Italian food as well, be it the normal pasta dish or lasagna, or fine dining food. I love them all.
I also like Thai food. I have eaten at quite a few Thai restaurants (except for Amarin Heavenly Thai at Mid Valley) but none of the dishes are as Thai and tasty as the D’Chengmai restaurant in Sungai Buloh. The Tom Yam is to die for, the best I have had so far in comparison with all the other Tom Yam I have tasted. The pandan leaf chicken is also delicious. The texture is soft and you can taste the ingredients right to the core of the pandan leaf chicken. And being original Thai, the dishes are filled with a lot of chilies. So yes, they are hot and spicy, but worth trying because they’re so good.
I also like Chinese and nyonya food. I don’t like much of the economy rice, but other hawker type of dishes are good. But it’s quite hard to find halal Chinese food unless I go to expensive restaurants and hotels. I have heard that a Mualaf has opened a Chinese restaurant somewhere in Taman Shamelin called Adam’s café. I might check that out later. They say the food is also good.
I also love Penang food. I mean, what is not to love about Penang food. The best nasi kandar can only be found in Penang. I tried other nasi kandar here in KL but somehow the best is in Penang. And there’s also this rice dish called Nasi Dalca. Pun sedap jugak. They also say that the best prawn mee can also be found in Penang. Unfortunately I didn’t get a chance to check that out when I was in Penang (the best prawn mee outlet was closed when I went there) so I only eat prawn mee at Little Penang in Mid Valley. Ironically though, the prawn mee at Little Penang used to be so tasty. Nowadays, it’s ok. I wonder where I can get a really good prawn mee. That’d be great.
However, I’m not much into Japanese food. I don’t know why. Teppayaki is ok, but other than that, I don’t think I know how to eat them. Surprisingly though, I kind a like smoked or raw salmon. Weird eh.
All in all, I just love food. So, if anyone out there knows of a great eating place, let me know and I will try my very best to check it out.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Finally… The Wedding
It’s set. My brother is getting married end of this year to his fiancée. The date is 28th December 2007. Well, the akad nikah will happen on that day, Insya Allah. I was hoping that they’ll get married early next year but apparently, his fiancée’s mother had been pushing and pestering him (yet again) on the wedding date. I am so ‘menyampah’ and quite thankful really that she’s not my mother-in-law.
The engagement itself which happened in mid-May this year was also another spectacle. Her mother was so noisy, talking to her friends loudly even during the important discussion between my side and hers. It was so ‘kampung-like’. And the funny part was that, her family gave my family three options on the dowry or ‘duit hantaran’. Option 1 is to give all the duit hantaran to her family half way before the wedding date. Option 2 is give half of the duit hantaran half way before the wedding date. Option 3 is to give the whole of the duit hantaran on the wedding date. I was annoyed when I heard it. The duit hantaran was supposed to be used to start off the couple’s married life, not to give to her family to cater for THEIR wedding expenses. Well that’s the way I see it. If others see differently, then let them. The three options itself was enough to make me mad. Furthermore, her mother wanted them to be married in August. And me, being a person who could not conceal my expression, I was mad and furious. But I quickly hid my face behind my fan (which I was waving like mad because I was hot). What makes me even more mad was the fact that when the negotiator said that the wedding may not happen in August, with a ‘selamba’ face she said, “Tak kisah. Kita ikut ajer”. Ironically the negotiator said, “Eh tak kisah pulak. Tadi iyer-iyer nak suruh buat bulan lapan”. I mean, how hypocritical is that? I was damn furious and I know Ibu and the rest of my relatives ‘memang menyampahlah’.
Well, when it comes to that sort of thing, my brother suddenly does not know what to do. I bet that if her mother pushes him to give all the duit hantaran half way before the wedding date, he will definitely do it. My Acik and I have told him that we will give the duit hantaran during the wedding in a form of a bank draft bearing his fiancée’s account number and name. What happens then, we leave it to God. Whenever I think about it, I become so ‘menyampah’. The nerve. I hope her family won’t take any advantage of my brother and that my brother does not forget that he also has parents to go back to. So takderlah everytime nak balik B***** jer. Belum apa-apa lagi, my brother wants to rent a place in Bukit Jalil, near his future sister-in-law’s house. He said it’s near the LRT station so he doesn’t have to send the future wife to work. I wonder who gave him that idea. Gosh, I despise the family already.
But in support of my brother, I will try assist him in the wedding preparation in any way that I can. After all, I am the oldest in the family and I know that though he does not say it out loud, he definitely needs my approval and help.
The engagement itself which happened in mid-May this year was also another spectacle. Her mother was so noisy, talking to her friends loudly even during the important discussion between my side and hers. It was so ‘kampung-like’. And the funny part was that, her family gave my family three options on the dowry or ‘duit hantaran’. Option 1 is to give all the duit hantaran to her family half way before the wedding date. Option 2 is give half of the duit hantaran half way before the wedding date. Option 3 is to give the whole of the duit hantaran on the wedding date. I was annoyed when I heard it. The duit hantaran was supposed to be used to start off the couple’s married life, not to give to her family to cater for THEIR wedding expenses. Well that’s the way I see it. If others see differently, then let them. The three options itself was enough to make me mad. Furthermore, her mother wanted them to be married in August. And me, being a person who could not conceal my expression, I was mad and furious. But I quickly hid my face behind my fan (which I was waving like mad because I was hot). What makes me even more mad was the fact that when the negotiator said that the wedding may not happen in August, with a ‘selamba’ face she said, “Tak kisah. Kita ikut ajer”. Ironically the negotiator said, “Eh tak kisah pulak. Tadi iyer-iyer nak suruh buat bulan lapan”. I mean, how hypocritical is that? I was damn furious and I know Ibu and the rest of my relatives ‘memang menyampahlah’.
Well, when it comes to that sort of thing, my brother suddenly does not know what to do. I bet that if her mother pushes him to give all the duit hantaran half way before the wedding date, he will definitely do it. My Acik and I have told him that we will give the duit hantaran during the wedding in a form of a bank draft bearing his fiancée’s account number and name. What happens then, we leave it to God. Whenever I think about it, I become so ‘menyampah’. The nerve. I hope her family won’t take any advantage of my brother and that my brother does not forget that he also has parents to go back to. So takderlah everytime nak balik B***** jer. Belum apa-apa lagi, my brother wants to rent a place in Bukit Jalil, near his future sister-in-law’s house. He said it’s near the LRT station so he doesn’t have to send the future wife to work. I wonder who gave him that idea. Gosh, I despise the family already.
But in support of my brother, I will try assist him in the wedding preparation in any way that I can. After all, I am the oldest in the family and I know that though he does not say it out loud, he definitely needs my approval and help.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Miss Single Life
I am 30 (well, I still have a few more months before turning 31), married to a wonderful man, have two children (it’s kind a cool that I can say two instead of one…hehehe), have a secure job (though I may beg to differ on the pay) and a roof over my head which I’m not renting, but actually own. Yeah, I guess life couldn’t be better. But sometimes, on those rare occasions, I miss being single. I don’t WISH to be single, but yes… I do MISS being single. There is a difference between the two.
My single life before I got married was fantastic. I hung out with friends even on working nights. We didn’t go clubbing or anything, it was basically just hanging out in Subang eating kuey teow goreng or roti canai at the mamak shop. Catch up on latest gossips and talk about eligible handsome guys. Those girls know who they are. Sometimes, these girls would bring their friends along and we would get to know them. It was just way super cool.
I also hung out with my Seremban buddies quite a lot. When I was still working at the Maxis Tower, I would meet the guys nearly everyday. I would take the LRT to Kelana Jaya and they would pick me up there. Again, we didn’t go clubbing or anything. We just hung out at Steven’s at Damansara Uptown and chit chat. Though we met nearly everyday, there would always be stuff to talk about. Sometimes I would go to their apartment. There was this one time, I went to Black’s apartment. He was supposed to get ready for dinner but he was late as usual. So I waited for him at his apartment. While waiting for him, his cousin came with his girlfriend. We exchanged a few introductory words and I continued to watch TV. Imagine my surprise when I heard kissing and smooching noises at the back. I was shocked. But I dared not turn my head to see what they were doing. Instead, I got up, knocked hard on Black’s door and asked him to hurry up. All I wanted to do was get out of the apartment. When I told Black what I heard, he laughed hard. Well sorry, I thought it was gross.
We also went places to hang out. Like at the beach (never further than Port Dickson, I don’t know why) and at Sunway Lagoon. Sunway Lagoon was cool. There were seven of us and each of us had their own crazy behaviour and that made Sunway Lagoon one of my most favourite memories. Either way, I will treasure those memories very much. We were so close-knitted that we were like a family. My parents believe them very much that they didn’t mind I went places with them. All of them, except Black, are married now. And I know for sure that they cherish the memories as well.
With another set of Seremban friends, we hung out on weekends. We would always go out for supper at Seremban 2 or Bashir (a mamak shop in Seremban). We would return in the early morning. Fortunately my parents were alright with it. Well, they knew who I hung out with. But I have to admit that Ayah was a bit worked up about it. He was constantly reminding me not to come back too late. Ibu surprisingly was ok with it. I guess she trusted that I wouldn’t do anything stupid. And yes, I don’t think I did anything stupid.
It was lucky that my dearest Bie didn’t control me before I got married. I could hang out with any friend I wanted, be it male or female and all I had to do was just inform him, not seek permission. There is a difference between the two. And that was how I treated him as well. Though we had each other, I still went on life with my friends. He still went to HRC with his friends. I thought that kind of relationship was cool. In fact even after we’re married, he still let me out with my friends. I believe that you shouldn’t stop seeing your friends just because you got married. Sometimes, when you have problems, you need your girlfriends more than your husband. I’m not saying that the husband doesn’t understand, but sometimes a girlfriend’s ear is more comforting. Trust me. Been there, done that.
So yeah, looking back, I do miss single life. You can do so much when you’re single. There is no issue of leaving your kids behind or when you go places, there is no need to pack a lot of bags or worry about the number of extra clothes you should bring for your kids. But, that doesn’t mean that I don’t treasure my life now. I am thankful that I have a family that I can call my own. Not disrespecting my parents or anything, but I love having a nucleus family of my own. Being a wife and a mother isn’t so bad. Different, yet challenging. So, even though I do miss being single, I don’t think I would trade it for my current life. For now.
My single life before I got married was fantastic. I hung out with friends even on working nights. We didn’t go clubbing or anything, it was basically just hanging out in Subang eating kuey teow goreng or roti canai at the mamak shop. Catch up on latest gossips and talk about eligible handsome guys. Those girls know who they are. Sometimes, these girls would bring their friends along and we would get to know them. It was just way super cool.
I also hung out with my Seremban buddies quite a lot. When I was still working at the Maxis Tower, I would meet the guys nearly everyday. I would take the LRT to Kelana Jaya and they would pick me up there. Again, we didn’t go clubbing or anything. We just hung out at Steven’s at Damansara Uptown and chit chat. Though we met nearly everyday, there would always be stuff to talk about. Sometimes I would go to their apartment. There was this one time, I went to Black’s apartment. He was supposed to get ready for dinner but he was late as usual. So I waited for him at his apartment. While waiting for him, his cousin came with his girlfriend. We exchanged a few introductory words and I continued to watch TV. Imagine my surprise when I heard kissing and smooching noises at the back. I was shocked. But I dared not turn my head to see what they were doing. Instead, I got up, knocked hard on Black’s door and asked him to hurry up. All I wanted to do was get out of the apartment. When I told Black what I heard, he laughed hard. Well sorry, I thought it was gross.
We also went places to hang out. Like at the beach (never further than Port Dickson, I don’t know why) and at Sunway Lagoon. Sunway Lagoon was cool. There were seven of us and each of us had their own crazy behaviour and that made Sunway Lagoon one of my most favourite memories. Either way, I will treasure those memories very much. We were so close-knitted that we were like a family. My parents believe them very much that they didn’t mind I went places with them. All of them, except Black, are married now. And I know for sure that they cherish the memories as well.
With another set of Seremban friends, we hung out on weekends. We would always go out for supper at Seremban 2 or Bashir (a mamak shop in Seremban). We would return in the early morning. Fortunately my parents were alright with it. Well, they knew who I hung out with. But I have to admit that Ayah was a bit worked up about it. He was constantly reminding me not to come back too late. Ibu surprisingly was ok with it. I guess she trusted that I wouldn’t do anything stupid. And yes, I don’t think I did anything stupid.
It was lucky that my dearest Bie didn’t control me before I got married. I could hang out with any friend I wanted, be it male or female and all I had to do was just inform him, not seek permission. There is a difference between the two. And that was how I treated him as well. Though we had each other, I still went on life with my friends. He still went to HRC with his friends. I thought that kind of relationship was cool. In fact even after we’re married, he still let me out with my friends. I believe that you shouldn’t stop seeing your friends just because you got married. Sometimes, when you have problems, you need your girlfriends more than your husband. I’m not saying that the husband doesn’t understand, but sometimes a girlfriend’s ear is more comforting. Trust me. Been there, done that.
So yeah, looking back, I do miss single life. You can do so much when you’re single. There is no issue of leaving your kids behind or when you go places, there is no need to pack a lot of bags or worry about the number of extra clothes you should bring for your kids. But, that doesn’t mean that I don’t treasure my life now. I am thankful that I have a family that I can call my own. Not disrespecting my parents or anything, but I love having a nucleus family of my own. Being a wife and a mother isn’t so bad. Different, yet challenging. So, even though I do miss being single, I don’t think I would trade it for my current life. For now.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Disappointment
Have you ever felt disappointed at a certain somebody but you can’t really say it out loud to her or his face? I know I have. Many times. But I suppressed my disappointment. I tell myself that every act done comes with a sacrifice. I am sacrificing my feelings though how hurt it may be while that somebody is also probably making similar sacrifices only I may not understand them as a sacrifice. Am I making any sense?... [sigh]
I never do like confinement period. In fact, I hate it. I feel vulnerable and sick. I can’t do much of work. I move slow and thinking about it make me depressed. The whole ‘berpantang’ ritual isn’t working for me this time round. Compared to when I had Marsya that is. And when you’re at this vulnerable place, the feeling of disappointment can quickly screw your head and you wouldn’t be able to think straight. I don’t want to call it the post-natal depression period because I don’t think I’m THAT depressed. But then again, what do I call it? The honeymoon period?
This disappointment has been with me for quite a while now. I don’t know how to say it to that somebody without either one of us getting hurt. It’s such a difficult thing to do. Do you think I should just let myself sink into this self-pity hole and consider it as a sacrifice? I don’t know what to think anymore. It’s just so frustrating sometimes.
Oh gosh, what am I rambling about... Don’t worry about it. I’m just not myself these days. Or probably it’s the lack of fresh air and sun that’s making me depressed. I can’t wait to complete my confinement period. I am so in need of a coffee and pineapple juice. And knowing Ibu, I don’t think she would allow me to have those drinks. Heck, I can’t wait to go to Starbuck or Coffee Bean soon for a cup of nice and tasty coffee. Or a black coffee at any kopitiam outlet. That would be good too.
… but why do I still feel disappointed?
I never do like confinement period. In fact, I hate it. I feel vulnerable and sick. I can’t do much of work. I move slow and thinking about it make me depressed. The whole ‘berpantang’ ritual isn’t working for me this time round. Compared to when I had Marsya that is. And when you’re at this vulnerable place, the feeling of disappointment can quickly screw your head and you wouldn’t be able to think straight. I don’t want to call it the post-natal depression period because I don’t think I’m THAT depressed. But then again, what do I call it? The honeymoon period?
This disappointment has been with me for quite a while now. I don’t know how to say it to that somebody without either one of us getting hurt. It’s such a difficult thing to do. Do you think I should just let myself sink into this self-pity hole and consider it as a sacrifice? I don’t know what to think anymore. It’s just so frustrating sometimes.
Oh gosh, what am I rambling about... Don’t worry about it. I’m just not myself these days. Or probably it’s the lack of fresh air and sun that’s making me depressed. I can’t wait to complete my confinement period. I am so in need of a coffee and pineapple juice. And knowing Ibu, I don’t think she would allow me to have those drinks. Heck, I can’t wait to go to Starbuck or Coffee Bean soon for a cup of nice and tasty coffee. Or a black coffee at any kopitiam outlet. That would be good too.
… but why do I still feel disappointed?
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Thank You
Who doesn’t argue with their other half, eh? I mean, everyone does, right? I know that there have been countless times that I argued with my dearest Bie. They’re all over small things. Things which other people find they’re ok with but to me, they’re just huge. That’s me, being ever so dramatic.
Put aside all those petty things, Bie has been nothing but wonderful (at times) and helpful. When I was at the hospital, Bie was there for me the whole time. In fact, he stayed at the hospital with me. He helped me bathe, wear my clothes, put ointment on my tummy and feet and later put my socks on, expressed breast milk (with a breast pump, ok… don’t get any ideas… at that time, I had trouble sitting up straight and pumping milk simultaneously coz it was the day after my surgery), took crap from me when I was in pain, and the list goes on and on.
Looking back, I felt really thankful for having a husband like that. Sure he’s not Mr Romantic and he can be very oblivious to his surroundings at times… but when I needed help, he was there for me. Emotionally and physically. When I was jabbed with morphine, he sat next to me and put his hand on my head and played with my hair until I fell asleep. When I was uncomfortable at night, he would prop up pillows on my sides and lowered the bed for me. He would also cover my body with a blanket to ensure that I didn’t get cold. In fact, whenever I needed something, he was always there for me. Never grunting, he just went ahead and did it.
During my confinement, I had to send my daughter to my Aunty’s place because my mother couldn’t afford to take care of me, my baby and her. Since my so-called maid hasn’t arrived yet (yeah, I am deciding to take a maid), Ibu has difficulty taking care of everything. And Bie is not with me everyday. He comes back only on weekends, with Marsya. And oh God, it’s just so difficult not having my daughter around. I cried every time I hear her voice on the phone. Anyway, Bie has been taking good care of Marsya. Since I have the baby to take care of together with the fact that I am still not strong enough, Bie has been doing much of the work. Bathing Marsya, feeding her, ‘layan-ing’ her, washing her poo-poo, making her milk, etc… etc. I can’t thank him enough for that. I know that he’s the father, so he should be doing all that. But I do know of certain fathers who would run a thousand miles if they smell poo-poo on their children.
So Bie, thank you very much for everything. You have been great. I pray that we can be there for each other until fate tells us otherwise… Insya Allah.
Put aside all those petty things, Bie has been nothing but wonderful (at times) and helpful. When I was at the hospital, Bie was there for me the whole time. In fact, he stayed at the hospital with me. He helped me bathe, wear my clothes, put ointment on my tummy and feet and later put my socks on, expressed breast milk (with a breast pump, ok… don’t get any ideas… at that time, I had trouble sitting up straight and pumping milk simultaneously coz it was the day after my surgery), took crap from me when I was in pain, and the list goes on and on.
Looking back, I felt really thankful for having a husband like that. Sure he’s not Mr Romantic and he can be very oblivious to his surroundings at times… but when I needed help, he was there for me. Emotionally and physically. When I was jabbed with morphine, he sat next to me and put his hand on my head and played with my hair until I fell asleep. When I was uncomfortable at night, he would prop up pillows on my sides and lowered the bed for me. He would also cover my body with a blanket to ensure that I didn’t get cold. In fact, whenever I needed something, he was always there for me. Never grunting, he just went ahead and did it.
During my confinement, I had to send my daughter to my Aunty’s place because my mother couldn’t afford to take care of me, my baby and her. Since my so-called maid hasn’t arrived yet (yeah, I am deciding to take a maid), Ibu has difficulty taking care of everything. And Bie is not with me everyday. He comes back only on weekends, with Marsya. And oh God, it’s just so difficult not having my daughter around. I cried every time I hear her voice on the phone. Anyway, Bie has been taking good care of Marsya. Since I have the baby to take care of together with the fact that I am still not strong enough, Bie has been doing much of the work. Bathing Marsya, feeding her, ‘layan-ing’ her, washing her poo-poo, making her milk, etc… etc. I can’t thank him enough for that. I know that he’s the father, so he should be doing all that. But I do know of certain fathers who would run a thousand miles if they smell poo-poo on their children.
So Bie, thank you very much for everything. You have been great. I pray that we can be there for each other until fate tells us otherwise… Insya Allah.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Things You'll Just Never Forget
The Pain
I felt the pain since Saturday, but because they were irregular and bearable, I never mentioned the pain to anyone. Besides, I wasn’t sure whether the pains were actually contraction pains. I know that I have already given birth before and it still wasn’t that long ago, but I wasn’t sure whether the pains were contraction pains. I kept thinking that they were probably gasses because I wasn’t eating.
The pains came and went. I wasn’t about to go to the hospital because the pains were probably false alarms. But I did tell my dearest Bie about it. He was relaxed as well. I guess the hospital being very near the house and all, he wasn’t particularly worried. So we still went out to have dinner. In fact, on Monday we went to TGI at the Life Centre. We were stuffed. I had trouble getting up and my big stomach wasn’t helping much.
On Wednesday, Bie had to go to Seremban for a meeting. I was left alone at the house. Somehow, I felt a little worried. But I was confident that nothing would happen. After all the pains were there since Saturday. But at 6pm, the pains became more frequent. Every 20 to 15 minutes or so. And whenever the pains came, I would be sweating heavily, as a result of trying to alleviate the pains. Bie was still in Seremban. My mind was telling me that I had to go to the hospital but there was no one to take me there.
At 7.30pm, the pains were becoming unbearable. I had to hold on to tables, chairs and Bie’s stereo speaker to stand the pain. Big sweats were rolling down my forehead and cheeks. I called Bie. He was on his way home (and driving like mad…). But he was in Nilai. Still a long way to go. As I was leaning against the speaker, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and there stood my sister-in-law. She received a call from Bie and her husband and rushed to the house to see how I was doing. I could barely stand up. She was a little panicky and immediately took me to the hospital.
I felt the pain since Saturday, but because they were irregular and bearable, I never mentioned the pain to anyone. Besides, I wasn’t sure whether the pains were actually contraction pains. I know that I have already given birth before and it still wasn’t that long ago, but I wasn’t sure whether the pains were contraction pains. I kept thinking that they were probably gasses because I wasn’t eating.
The pains came and went. I wasn’t about to go to the hospital because the pains were probably false alarms. But I did tell my dearest Bie about it. He was relaxed as well. I guess the hospital being very near the house and all, he wasn’t particularly worried. So we still went out to have dinner. In fact, on Monday we went to TGI at the Life Centre. We were stuffed. I had trouble getting up and my big stomach wasn’t helping much.
On Wednesday, Bie had to go to Seremban for a meeting. I was left alone at the house. Somehow, I felt a little worried. But I was confident that nothing would happen. After all the pains were there since Saturday. But at 6pm, the pains became more frequent. Every 20 to 15 minutes or so. And whenever the pains came, I would be sweating heavily, as a result of trying to alleviate the pains. Bie was still in Seremban. My mind was telling me that I had to go to the hospital but there was no one to take me there.
At 7.30pm, the pains were becoming unbearable. I had to hold on to tables, chairs and Bie’s stereo speaker to stand the pain. Big sweats were rolling down my forehead and cheeks. I called Bie. He was on his way home (and driving like mad…). But he was in Nilai. Still a long way to go. As I was leaning against the speaker, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and there stood my sister-in-law. She received a call from Bie and her husband and rushed to the house to see how I was doing. I could barely stand up. She was a little panicky and immediately took me to the hospital.
The Wait
We reached the hospital at 8pm. The doctor just left so the nurse checked me. My opening was only about 1 to 2 cm. I was disappointed. I wanted to go back. But the nurse told me that I had to be warded. Man, how I hated it. I prefer to face the contraction pains at home, not the hospital. But I was warded. The nurse put a certain kind of apparatus on top of my tummy to monitor the baby’s heart beat. At the same time, it was also monitoring my contraction.
My sister-in-law, Kak Ita told Bie to go home first and sort out my ‘hospital bag’. So he went home, showered then came to the hospital. Kak Ita was at the hospital the entire time keeping me company. The contraction pains were about 8 to 10 minutes apart now. I couldn’t lie down. It was too painful. So I held on to bed posts, chairs… anything that could help me. Not long after, my in-laws came. Unfortunately, their visit was not helping. Their talking and bickering were causing me headache considering I had these pains to face. So Kak Ita told them to leave (very nicely). They left half an hour after that.
At 10.45pm, the nurse came again to check my opening. Despite the strong pains, the opening was only 2 to 3 cm. I was again disappointed. I was expecting at least 5 cm. Kak Ita sighed and predicted a long night ahead.
Bie stayed with me until after 12am. But since it was an open ward, he had to go. I was particularly sad to see Bie leave. I was in pain and I wanted him to stay with me, to just be there for me. But rules are rules, so at 12.20am, he left.
My doctor came to check on me at 12.30am. Surprisingly, she told me that my opening was already 8 cm and that I was ready to give birth. I was shocked. Less than two hours ago, it was only 2 to 3 cm. She instructed the nurses to bring me to the labour room. I called Bie and told him that I was about to be in labour. He was surprised and drove back to the hospital. At 12.50am, I was wheeled into the labour room.
We reached the hospital at 8pm. The doctor just left so the nurse checked me. My opening was only about 1 to 2 cm. I was disappointed. I wanted to go back. But the nurse told me that I had to be warded. Man, how I hated it. I prefer to face the contraction pains at home, not the hospital. But I was warded. The nurse put a certain kind of apparatus on top of my tummy to monitor the baby’s heart beat. At the same time, it was also monitoring my contraction.
My sister-in-law, Kak Ita told Bie to go home first and sort out my ‘hospital bag’. So he went home, showered then came to the hospital. Kak Ita was at the hospital the entire time keeping me company. The contraction pains were about 8 to 10 minutes apart now. I couldn’t lie down. It was too painful. So I held on to bed posts, chairs… anything that could help me. Not long after, my in-laws came. Unfortunately, their visit was not helping. Their talking and bickering were causing me headache considering I had these pains to face. So Kak Ita told them to leave (very nicely). They left half an hour after that.
At 10.45pm, the nurse came again to check my opening. Despite the strong pains, the opening was only 2 to 3 cm. I was again disappointed. I was expecting at least 5 cm. Kak Ita sighed and predicted a long night ahead.
Bie stayed with me until after 12am. But since it was an open ward, he had to go. I was particularly sad to see Bie leave. I was in pain and I wanted him to stay with me, to just be there for me. But rules are rules, so at 12.20am, he left.
My doctor came to check on me at 12.30am. Surprisingly, she told me that my opening was already 8 cm and that I was ready to give birth. I was shocked. Less than two hours ago, it was only 2 to 3 cm. She instructed the nurses to bring me to the labour room. I called Bie and told him that I was about to be in labour. He was surprised and drove back to the hospital. At 12.50am, I was wheeled into the labour room.
The Delivery
The doctor broke my water bag and asked me whether I was ready to push. Frankly, I didn’t feel the urge to push at all. I wonder how some people said that giving birth is easy; it’s like passing motion and within the next minute, the baby pops out from beneath. Well I wasn’t like that. In fact, the feeling to push did not exist. All I could feel were the contraction pains getting stronger. So the doctor left the labour room to give me time. Bie was standing next to me, keeping me company. About 15 minutes later, the doctor came back and asked again whether I wanted to push. I replied, “No”.
But somehow or rather, the next thing I knew, I was pushing. It wasn’t because I wanted to. The feeling wasn’t there. It was more like an obligation because my water bag had broken and the doctor was standing in front of my wide opened legs.
The pains became terribly unbearable. Believe it or not, embarrassed to say this but I screamed at the top of my lungs when I had to push. It was, oh my God… VERY painful. I could stand the contractions, but the actual delivery, was oh my God. I was perspiring. I pushed as hard as I could but the baby wouldn’t pop out. I even had the time to think about how other people manage to do this without any problem. The doctor and the nurses were telling me how to push. Bie was constantly telling me to look at the doctor while pushing as it would help the baby come out. But at that point in time, I couldn’t listen to any instruction at all. I was crying, moaning and screaming in pain. I didn’t feel like pushing anymore and the fact that the doctor was inserting her fingers inside me trying to get hold of the baby’s head, wasn’t helping because it was painful.
I guess at one point, my doctor was tired of my ‘nonsense’ (I was in terrible pain) and said that I had to push or else she would c-sect me. I pushed again with all my might and with a help of a vacuum, the doctor managed to get the baby out (I could feel her inserting the vacuum inside me… well, at least I think I did). The time was 2.20am and it was a very early Thursday morning, 24th May 2007.
It was a boy. He was all purple. The nurses immediately took him to get the water out of his mouth. I was relieved. Maximum relief. I felt all the pains I had earlier disappeared into thin air. I could finally relax while the doctor stitched me up. Mind you, a lot of stitches coz I could see the thread quite long.
The doctor estimated the baby to be about 3.6kg, but imagine my surprise when the nurse weighed him, and she announced that the baby was 3.8kg. I was shocked. So did my doctor and said “No wonder you couldn’t push”. I actually sat up on the labour bed in disbelief. My baby weighed 3.8kg…
After the doctor was done with me, I was brought back to the open ward. Finally, I could rest.
The doctor broke my water bag and asked me whether I was ready to push. Frankly, I didn’t feel the urge to push at all. I wonder how some people said that giving birth is easy; it’s like passing motion and within the next minute, the baby pops out from beneath. Well I wasn’t like that. In fact, the feeling to push did not exist. All I could feel were the contraction pains getting stronger. So the doctor left the labour room to give me time. Bie was standing next to me, keeping me company. About 15 minutes later, the doctor came back and asked again whether I wanted to push. I replied, “No”.
But somehow or rather, the next thing I knew, I was pushing. It wasn’t because I wanted to. The feeling wasn’t there. It was more like an obligation because my water bag had broken and the doctor was standing in front of my wide opened legs.
The pains became terribly unbearable. Believe it or not, embarrassed to say this but I screamed at the top of my lungs when I had to push. It was, oh my God… VERY painful. I could stand the contractions, but the actual delivery, was oh my God. I was perspiring. I pushed as hard as I could but the baby wouldn’t pop out. I even had the time to think about how other people manage to do this without any problem. The doctor and the nurses were telling me how to push. Bie was constantly telling me to look at the doctor while pushing as it would help the baby come out. But at that point in time, I couldn’t listen to any instruction at all. I was crying, moaning and screaming in pain. I didn’t feel like pushing anymore and the fact that the doctor was inserting her fingers inside me trying to get hold of the baby’s head, wasn’t helping because it was painful.
I guess at one point, my doctor was tired of my ‘nonsense’ (I was in terrible pain) and said that I had to push or else she would c-sect me. I pushed again with all my might and with a help of a vacuum, the doctor managed to get the baby out (I could feel her inserting the vacuum inside me… well, at least I think I did). The time was 2.20am and it was a very early Thursday morning, 24th May 2007.
It was a boy. He was all purple. The nurses immediately took him to get the water out of his mouth. I was relieved. Maximum relief. I felt all the pains I had earlier disappeared into thin air. I could finally relax while the doctor stitched me up. Mind you, a lot of stitches coz I could see the thread quite long.
The doctor estimated the baby to be about 3.6kg, but imagine my surprise when the nurse weighed him, and she announced that the baby was 3.8kg. I was shocked. So did my doctor and said “No wonder you couldn’t push”. I actually sat up on the labour bed in disbelief. My baby weighed 3.8kg…
After the doctor was done with me, I was brought back to the open ward. Finally, I could rest.
The Unfortunate Further Complication
The next morning, I was really without energy. I couldn’t sit down and luckily Kak Ita was there to help me. She helped me to the toilet, she helped me with my food and she kept me company. In addition to the stitches, I had other cropping problem; hemorrhoid, which appeared with all the pushing. I had few blood clots that would not heal very well unless a surgery is done. My doctor suggested that I underwent a surgery to remove the blood clots. I was in a dilemma. Here I was trying to recuperate from my delivery but with the hemorrhoid problem, recuperating would be very difficult. After discussing with my dearest Bie, we agreed to go ahead with the surgery.
On the morning of Friday, 25th May 2007, I was wheeled into the operation theatre. I was scared. Luckily the nurses were nice and the surgeon and the anesthetist were also friendly. They tried to make me as comfortable as possible. After injecting my spine with some local anesthetics, I was asked to lie on my back and the operation began.
Thankfully I didn’t feel any pain, as a result of the local anesthetics. So whatever they did down there, I wouldn’t know. About 45 minutes or so, I was brought back to my room (I moved from the open ward to a 2-bedded room the night before). Bie was waiting for me. He kept me company for a while and left when I fell asleep.
I slept until afternoon. By late afternoon, the anesthetics began to wear off. I felt pain. Tremendous pain. I asked Bie to get me painkillers. Unfortunately the painkillers didn’t help. I was trembling and shaking with pain. Contraction pains come and go, but this pain seemed to go on forever. I asked for stronger painkillers, or anything else which would make the pain go away. The nurse came in and injected me with morphine. My arm swelled after the jab but I didn’t feel the pain. I was in too much pain from the operation. About 20 minutes later, my eyes were shut. The pains were still there but I felt them bearable. I could hear voices in the background but I had no energy to listen to them word by word. It was the first time that I became unconscious because of a drug. I only woke up at 9.30pm. By that time, the pains were controllable, thank goodness for that.
The next morning, I was really without energy. I couldn’t sit down and luckily Kak Ita was there to help me. She helped me to the toilet, she helped me with my food and she kept me company. In addition to the stitches, I had other cropping problem; hemorrhoid, which appeared with all the pushing. I had few blood clots that would not heal very well unless a surgery is done. My doctor suggested that I underwent a surgery to remove the blood clots. I was in a dilemma. Here I was trying to recuperate from my delivery but with the hemorrhoid problem, recuperating would be very difficult. After discussing with my dearest Bie, we agreed to go ahead with the surgery.
On the morning of Friday, 25th May 2007, I was wheeled into the operation theatre. I was scared. Luckily the nurses were nice and the surgeon and the anesthetist were also friendly. They tried to make me as comfortable as possible. After injecting my spine with some local anesthetics, I was asked to lie on my back and the operation began.
Thankfully I didn’t feel any pain, as a result of the local anesthetics. So whatever they did down there, I wouldn’t know. About 45 minutes or so, I was brought back to my room (I moved from the open ward to a 2-bedded room the night before). Bie was waiting for me. He kept me company for a while and left when I fell asleep.
I slept until afternoon. By late afternoon, the anesthetics began to wear off. I felt pain. Tremendous pain. I asked Bie to get me painkillers. Unfortunately the painkillers didn’t help. I was trembling and shaking with pain. Contraction pains come and go, but this pain seemed to go on forever. I asked for stronger painkillers, or anything else which would make the pain go away. The nurse came in and injected me with morphine. My arm swelled after the jab but I didn’t feel the pain. I was in too much pain from the operation. About 20 minutes later, my eyes were shut. The pains were still there but I felt them bearable. I could hear voices in the background but I had no energy to listen to them word by word. It was the first time that I became unconscious because of a drug. I only woke up at 9.30pm. By that time, the pains were controllable, thank goodness for that.
The Discharge
The next day, I had to endure pain from stitches I had due to the delivery and the operation. It was terrible. And to make matters worse, my baby had the jaundice and had to be put under the light thingy. So I couldn’t be discharged just as yet. Oh well, one more day at the hospital wasn’t so bad.
On Sunday, I was told that I can be discharged and that my baby’s jaundice had reduced; safe enough for me to take him home. I was happy. I couldn’t wait to leave the hospital and go home. So on Sunday afternoon, Bie and I brought our baby home.
Now, all I have to do is to recover during my confinement period. I have to admit that I do not like confinement period, but there’s nothing much that I can do. I just hope that I will recover fast enough so that I can take care of both my children.
The next day, I had to endure pain from stitches I had due to the delivery and the operation. It was terrible. And to make matters worse, my baby had the jaundice and had to be put under the light thingy. So I couldn’t be discharged just as yet. Oh well, one more day at the hospital wasn’t so bad.
On Sunday, I was told that I can be discharged and that my baby’s jaundice had reduced; safe enough for me to take him home. I was happy. I couldn’t wait to leave the hospital and go home. So on Sunday afternoon, Bie and I brought our baby home.
Now, all I have to do is to recover during my confinement period. I have to admit that I do not like confinement period, but there’s nothing much that I can do. I just hope that I will recover fast enough so that I can take care of both my children.
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