The girls and Ihsan are playing at a neighbour's house. 2 doors away. Everything seems well and good now so it seems like I may have some time on my hands. Yipppeeeee!
Time for some quick updates.
1. Pictures? I have done the first step of transferring all my pictures from my phone to our storage system. The next step will be to select pictures to upload here. And finally, the actual uploading of pictures. To give you a better idea as to when this will happen: I started uploading pictures to our storage thing sometime in September. Heh.
2. Ihsan has started to gain weight. Alhamdulillah. But, his weight gain is still so slow. So slow that he is now below the 3rd percentile, ie, off the charts. At about 6 months old, he was 6.6kg. Then KD happened. At the end of the KD episode, he was 6.4kg. Then, his weight stagnated there for a long time. At about 11 months old, he was only 6.7kg. Although he is now 7.7kg at 14 months, that is much too light. To be at the 10th percentile, he has to be 8.75kg. Oh God.
The dietician gave some good advice but this boy has a preference for food that is much too healthy and more suited for his father. Hur hur. Like oats. How to get fat when he has oats for breakfast. And to entice him to eat his lunch (rice porridge with vegetable and either fish or chicken), occasionally, I lace every spoonful of porridge with oats.
3. Ihsan has recently picked up a new skill. He has made the realisation that furniture can be manipulated to get what he wants. This is a skill which I have not been looking forward to very much. He moves stools all the way to the kitchen sink so he can play with the sponges. Or to the kitchen cabinets to fiddle with all the buttons on the rice cooker. I must always remember to lock the kitchen window grilles and pull the key out. Too many scary stories of little boys who fall out of kitchen windows.
Oh dear. I hear the sounds of little feet. They are back. To be continued another day. Or another week. Or another month. Not another year, hopefully.
Sunday, November 08, 2015
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Blessed Life
It is so easy to take so many things for granted and so at times, in the midst of doing something, I have to pause and count my blessings. When I was hanging the clothes one day, I thought of how my arms were in perfect condition, good for lifting those poles. Not too long ago after the Implanon insertion, I could barely raise my arms. And how good it is to be able to bathe with no restriction; hands that could reach the back of the neck and no wounds that must be kept dry.
Ihsan had another heart scan last week. It was only 6 months ago when he was struck with KD but it really felt like a lifetime ago.
Alhamdulillah. Whatever issues he had with his heart are all gone. The dilated arteries & the aneurysm - all gone. Masya Allah. God is good. And with that, no more daily aspirin.
We are so very blessed. Thank you Allah. May all of us be granted good health and a steady iman always.
Ihsan had another heart scan last week. It was only 6 months ago when he was struck with KD but it really felt like a lifetime ago.
Alhamdulillah. Whatever issues he had with his heart are all gone. The dilated arteries & the aneurysm - all gone. Masya Allah. God is good. And with that, no more daily aspirin.
We are so very blessed. Thank you Allah. May all of us be granted good health and a steady iman always.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Ants $&#£{+!
Lovely weather, these days. A downpour, slight drizzle, just enough sun to dry the clothes, more drizzle, cool weather.
And then the ants decide that this weather makes outdoor living unsavoury. So with the pleasant weather, come the refugee ants. Truckloads of them from every tribe imaginable.
They are everywhere, roaming around looking for any crevices to build their homes in. I've given them enough warning to leave but they refused to budge. Occasionally, I'll invite some to a meal of terro-pco but their subsequent absence is only temporary. More will come to take over the place of the deceased.
Gaaaaaaaah!
And then the ants decide that this weather makes outdoor living unsavoury. So with the pleasant weather, come the refugee ants. Truckloads of them from every tribe imaginable.
They are everywhere, roaming around looking for any crevices to build their homes in. I've given them enough warning to leave but they refused to budge. Occasionally, I'll invite some to a meal of terro-pco but their subsequent absence is only temporary. More will come to take over the place of the deceased.
Gaaaaaaaah!
Monday, July 27, 2015
The Little Seed That Could Grow Only in Winter
Farah is 6 years old, in K2. This is what she wrote yesterday. This is done as a project with her 7-year-old cousin, Sofiyah. They decided that each of them would write a few stories based on a little seed. Their ultimate aim is to present these stories to their other cousins as part of their Sunday Nonsense.
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
The Middle Child
Have not written about Farah for quite some time so here are some things about her which are interesting.
1. Even though she doesn't have to be in school until 9am, she gets upset when we do not wake her up together with Huda at 6am. When she gets upset, her glare is enough to melt an iceberg.
2. She is extremely generous with her food. Whenever we eat fried chicken or fried fish, she will share the crispy skin with everyone although that is her favourite part.
3. She loves reading and she reads well for her age.
4. She doesn't understand some of the words that she reads. She used to just infer the meaning of the words (not accurately sometimes resulting in her saying things like "my tongue feels so disappointed" ~said in mid 2014) but these days she would ask us to explain the meaning of the words.
5. Sometimes, she'll ask us the meaning of the words in very random situations. A few days ago, she asked what 'possessed' meant. I thought it was something to do with spirits but I sought clarification from her anyway.
"Where did you see the word?" I asked.
"Once upon a time, in a land far away, a single drop of sunlight fell to the ground and grew into a magical golden flower that possessed healing powers."
(Yes. She quoted verbatim from a storybook she read a few days earlier.)
This happens very regularly. Sometimes she's about to sleep and she would ask the meaning of a word and would quote the sentence it appears in. I'm impressed with her memory.
6. A little voice within me and a few voices around me told me that I should send her to a madrasah. She would definitely be able to cope with the syllabus, they said. But, I am not sure if *I* can cope with it.
7. She is very loving to her little brother but less so to the older sister. Often, before she goes to school, she tells me, "Mak, can you tell Ihsan that Kakak Farah loves him very much?"
After months and months of this, I asked her why couldn't she just tell him herself.
She said, "I don't want him to forget me when I'm in school."
8. Her treatment of Ihsan when they play together reminds me of Elmyra from Animaniacs. At times, I have to stop her from being too rough with the little boy.
9. I love how much faith she has in Allah. She believes in the power of du'a and many times, her du'a is answered. Her du'a for now is for everyday stuff. Food, ability to do things (like, unscrew a jar etc). Once she made du'a for nenek to cook her favourite pucuk manis masak lemak (otherwise known as 'the green vegetable with the yellow gravy'. I forgot about it and that day, when we went to my mother's house, my mother happened to cook exactly that. Another day, we had leftover beef soup for sahur and there weren't many pieces of potatoes left. She wanted more and to pacify her, I told her to make du'a for potatoes. That evening, my mother gave us a potato dish for buka. Masya Allah. The power of du'a.
----
My du'a for Farah, Huda and Ihsan is for them to always have complete and unwavering faith in Allah. I du'a that they will always be hardworking and will always strive hard for their goals. Being 'clever' when you are young is meaningless if it's not accompanied by a desire and the will to better yourself throughout your life.
Sunday, June 21, 2015
A Short Summary
Here are some updates of our lives. Some might turn into longer blog posts. Some will remain here as one-liners.
1. Alhamdulillah. Ihsan's aneurysm has been reduced to a dilated artery while his dilated artery has turned normal. I cannot thank Allah enough for His Mercy.
2. We went to Coventry, London, Paris, Switzerland and back to London. Coventry, London and Switzerland are awesome.
3. Came back 2 days before Ramadan and Ihsan is letting me stay wide awake between 11pm to 2am. Baby jet lag is horrible.
4. Huda has gastric. An extension of her severe motion sickness that she gets during any travels. Includes car rides.
5. I must upload many many pictures of Ihsan here.
1. Alhamdulillah. Ihsan's aneurysm has been reduced to a dilated artery while his dilated artery has turned normal. I cannot thank Allah enough for His Mercy.
2. We went to Coventry, London, Paris, Switzerland and back to London. Coventry, London and Switzerland are awesome.
3. Came back 2 days before Ramadan and Ihsan is letting me stay wide awake between 11pm to 2am. Baby jet lag is horrible.
4. Huda has gastric. An extension of her severe motion sickness that she gets during any travels. Includes car rides.
5. I must upload many many pictures of Ihsan here.
Monday, April 06, 2015
April 2015 (Part #3)
What is the one lesson that I've learnt?
Get that insurance early. When it's too late, it's too late.
TheBoy was born with one of the ducts in his heart not closing in a timely fashion. In layman's terms, that's a hole in the heart. In December last year, he had a heart scan which showed that everything was a-okay. We should have seen our insurance agent at that moment but we procrastinated. As always.
In January, he was supposed to have his vaccination. Don't ask me which one. As a bimbo mother, I bring him to all his vaccinations diligently but for the life of me, I can't recall if it's this or that or another one of those things. He had a cough then so I was advised to postpone it to the following month. In February, he was supposed to have another jab so both jabs were given on the same day, 13th February.
That night, he developed a high fever of 38.4°C.
Nope. I did not think that was abnormal. He had a jab. He's never had a reaction to any of his jabs before. But hey, he had 2 jabs today. So, a fever is normal. (Note: Low-grade fever is expected after a vaccination. Not anything above 38°C.)
The fever somewhat subsided over the next 3 days. He still felt warm but when I took his temperature, it was always 37-point-something.
Tuesday morning. 17th Feb. Hmmm... Shouldn't this post-vaccination fever go away already? Googled. Googled. Googled. What? Post-vac fever should not last more than a day? Should be sub-38°C? Oh God. Let's take his temperature. What? 38-point-something?! Oh no! To the polyclinic we go! Pronto!
TheBoy didn't show any other signs of illnesses other than a fever. He was sponged by the nurses. His temperature dropped a little bit and after a thorough check by the doctor, we were sent home with instructions to have a blood test if the fever persists.
It was the CNY week. His fever was raging. It came down with Panadol, but after 4 hours, the fever shoots up to above 39°C. It not only persisted, this nasty fever, it also went up and up. For a child who had not even started on his weaning diet, his first foods were a cocktail of chemicals.
Thursday. First day of CNY. He had been inconsolable for many days. He barely slept. His stubborn fever was evil. We decided to take him to KKH for a blood test. Blood and urine tests turned out normal. Just a nasty viral fever, said the doctor. Go home.
Friday. Rashes started appearing on his hands and feet. Not HFMD. Not chicken pox. Googled googled googled. Maybe it's roseola. But roseola appears when the fever has subsided. This fever was still going on strong. But maybe, it's roseola and maybe, the fever is subsiding, we comfort our worried hearts.
Satuday evening, rashes which seemed to look better in the afternoon worsened at night. His lips were cracked and bleeding. He has cried himself hoarse and he's barely drinking any milk.
Sunday morning. He was too tired. He had been crying throughout this ordeal. We were exhausted. We could not comfort him much. It was time for another trip to KKH.
"It might be Kawasaki Disease," the doctor said.
Disease, why disease? The word 'disease' sounded like a long-term problem. My heart constricted a little bit and the doctor explained.
"Flat rashes, red lips, red tongue - looks like symptoms of Kawasaki Disease. But for patients with KD, there is a possibility that they might get heart disease as a result of this episode."
Heart disease.
I lost control of the floodgates. The tears gushed. The knowledgeable doctor said that as long as treatment is given within 10 days, most KD patients would not have any heart problems. I started counting. Counting his vaccination day as Day 1, that day was Day 10. But later on, another doctor said that they started counting from Tuesday as the 3 days when his fever was sub-38°C was not considered .
He was hospitalised and initially for my own comfort, we opted for a private ward class. The next day, a doctor spoke to me and asked if he was insured. No, I said. She strongly advised me to downgrade. At that moment, they could not start the treatment for him as there was no single test to confirm that TheBoy had KD. What they had to do was to confirm that he was not having anything else and all signs must point to KD. It would take time. "If it's not KD, what else could it be?" I asked. She listed a list of conditions which I didn't want to hear of either. Brain infection, sepsis of the blood. My mind - which was beyond exhaustion as a result of handling a sick, crying baby who cried through the night, giving me a total of 2 hours of sleep each day for more than a week - went blank after that. Downgrading is always a tricky issue at hospitals but I had to try. I went to the business office, pleaded my case and was given a downgrade to B2. Alhamdulillah.
But, Allah is kind and most merciful. B2 does not have a bed for us so we could stay in the comfort of the private ward class for another day and night.
I had witnessed so many days of inconsolable crying that on the first night at KKH, I started crying along with him. As I tried and failed to comfort him despite my best efforts, crying along was cathartic somehow. Had I been in B2 (6 patients in a ward, beds close together), I would have made many, many enemies as both son and mom wailed through the night.
Late Monday morning, the doctors confirmed that it was KD.
The treatment, Immunoglobulin harvested from many many many plasma donors, would be given intravenously. The doctor assured me that once the Intravenous Immunoglobulin (IVIG) has been administered, the fever would crash and he would be a lot less cranky.
Finally, at 12 noon, the treatment was started. By 2pm, his fever finally went down on its own. For the first time in what felt like forever, he slept for 2 whole hours, uninterrupted.
---
But the worst was not over.
We had to scan his heart. The appointment to do so was for a week after discharge. For some reasons, I always think I'm strong and can do these things alone. So, TheHusband didn't take time off from work because we are optimistic that results would be good. (Sometimes, I really don't know where I get this big bucket of optimism from. It could be insanity masked as optimism.)
TheBoy's name was called and in we went. A sweet technician with a lovely singing voice started scanning TheBoy's heart. She sang to the boy. I heard her murmuring to her partner, dilated. She continued singing to the boy. Could I have heard wrongly? Yeah, I'm sure I did.
The head of the paediatric heart department came in. Hmm. Why not just a regular doctor, like during his December scan? He scanned TheBoy again and I could hear the words I didn't want to hear.
His right coronary artery is dilated. And there is an aneurysm in his left coronary artery.
Allah. Allah. Allah. Give me strength, Allah.
He explained with diagrams what he meant. The good thing is, the aneurysm is small and it just requires regular monitoring. The worst thing that can possibly happen is a sudden heart attack. He has to learn how to manage stress and live a healthy lifestyle.
I nodded at appropriate pauses and tried to keep those tears out. I remember going to the counter to arrange for my next appointment. Then, I walked in a daze and only realised that I was at the taxi stand when I almost knocked into a display panel. I told the taxi driver where I wanted to go. And miraculously (because Allah is kind and merciful and so He sends me good friends and a great family), 3 of my friends asked me separately how Ihsan was when I was in the taxi. The tears that I had stoically kept within myself flowed. The enormity of the situation was too much to bear and on these friends, I unburdened my sorrow. (Thank you.)
---
A week passed. And I felt better. I saw the silver lining behind this dark cloud. So many people unknowingly live with their aneurysms. At least for us, we know he has one and we can get it monitored at regular intervals. We can take precautions and with Allah's mercy, Ihsan will live a long, healthy life. Amin.
Get that insurance early. When it's too late, it's too late.
TheBoy was born with one of the ducts in his heart not closing in a timely fashion. In layman's terms, that's a hole in the heart. In December last year, he had a heart scan which showed that everything was a-okay. We should have seen our insurance agent at that moment but we procrastinated. As always.
In January, he was supposed to have his vaccination. Don't ask me which one. As a bimbo mother, I bring him to all his vaccinations diligently but for the life of me, I can't recall if it's this or that or another one of those things. He had a cough then so I was advised to postpone it to the following month. In February, he was supposed to have another jab so both jabs were given on the same day, 13th February.
That night, he developed a high fever of 38.4°C.
Nope. I did not think that was abnormal. He had a jab. He's never had a reaction to any of his jabs before. But hey, he had 2 jabs today. So, a fever is normal. (Note: Low-grade fever is expected after a vaccination. Not anything above 38°C.)
The fever somewhat subsided over the next 3 days. He still felt warm but when I took his temperature, it was always 37-point-something.
Tuesday morning. 17th Feb. Hmmm... Shouldn't this post-vaccination fever go away already? Googled. Googled. Googled. What? Post-vac fever should not last more than a day? Should be sub-38°C? Oh God. Let's take his temperature. What? 38-point-something?! Oh no! To the polyclinic we go! Pronto!
TheBoy didn't show any other signs of illnesses other than a fever. He was sponged by the nurses. His temperature dropped a little bit and after a thorough check by the doctor, we were sent home with instructions to have a blood test if the fever persists.
It was the CNY week. His fever was raging. It came down with Panadol, but after 4 hours, the fever shoots up to above 39°C. It not only persisted, this nasty fever, it also went up and up. For a child who had not even started on his weaning diet, his first foods were a cocktail of chemicals.
Thursday. First day of CNY. He had been inconsolable for many days. He barely slept. His stubborn fever was evil. We decided to take him to KKH for a blood test. Blood and urine tests turned out normal. Just a nasty viral fever, said the doctor. Go home.
Friday. Rashes started appearing on his hands and feet. Not HFMD. Not chicken pox. Googled googled googled. Maybe it's roseola. But roseola appears when the fever has subsided. This fever was still going on strong. But maybe, it's roseola and maybe, the fever is subsiding, we comfort our worried hearts.
Satuday evening, rashes which seemed to look better in the afternoon worsened at night. His lips were cracked and bleeding. He has cried himself hoarse and he's barely drinking any milk.
Sunday morning. He was too tired. He had been crying throughout this ordeal. We were exhausted. We could not comfort him much. It was time for another trip to KKH.
"It might be Kawasaki Disease," the doctor said.
Disease, why disease? The word 'disease' sounded like a long-term problem. My heart constricted a little bit and the doctor explained.
"Flat rashes, red lips, red tongue - looks like symptoms of Kawasaki Disease. But for patients with KD, there is a possibility that they might get heart disease as a result of this episode."
Heart disease.
I lost control of the floodgates. The tears gushed. The knowledgeable doctor said that as long as treatment is given within 10 days, most KD patients would not have any heart problems. I started counting. Counting his vaccination day as Day 1, that day was Day 10. But later on, another doctor said that they started counting from Tuesday as the 3 days when his fever was sub-38°C was not considered .
He was hospitalised and initially for my own comfort, we opted for a private ward class. The next day, a doctor spoke to me and asked if he was insured. No, I said. She strongly advised me to downgrade. At that moment, they could not start the treatment for him as there was no single test to confirm that TheBoy had KD. What they had to do was to confirm that he was not having anything else and all signs must point to KD. It would take time. "If it's not KD, what else could it be?" I asked. She listed a list of conditions which I didn't want to hear of either. Brain infection, sepsis of the blood. My mind - which was beyond exhaustion as a result of handling a sick, crying baby who cried through the night, giving me a total of 2 hours of sleep each day for more than a week - went blank after that. Downgrading is always a tricky issue at hospitals but I had to try. I went to the business office, pleaded my case and was given a downgrade to B2. Alhamdulillah.
But, Allah is kind and most merciful. B2 does not have a bed for us so we could stay in the comfort of the private ward class for another day and night.
I had witnessed so many days of inconsolable crying that on the first night at KKH, I started crying along with him. As I tried and failed to comfort him despite my best efforts, crying along was cathartic somehow. Had I been in B2 (6 patients in a ward, beds close together), I would have made many, many enemies as both son and mom wailed through the night.
Late Monday morning, the doctors confirmed that it was KD.
The treatment, Immunoglobulin harvested from many many many plasma donors, would be given intravenously. The doctor assured me that once the Intravenous Immunoglobulin (IVIG) has been administered, the fever would crash and he would be a lot less cranky.
---
But the worst was not over.
We had to scan his heart. The appointment to do so was for a week after discharge. For some reasons, I always think I'm strong and can do these things alone. So, TheHusband didn't take time off from work because we are optimistic that results would be good. (Sometimes, I really don't know where I get this big bucket of optimism from. It could be insanity masked as optimism.)
TheBoy's name was called and in we went. A sweet technician with a lovely singing voice started scanning TheBoy's heart. She sang to the boy. I heard her murmuring to her partner, dilated. She continued singing to the boy. Could I have heard wrongly? Yeah, I'm sure I did.
The head of the paediatric heart department came in. Hmm. Why not just a regular doctor, like during his December scan? He scanned TheBoy again and I could hear the words I didn't want to hear.
His right coronary artery is dilated. And there is an aneurysm in his left coronary artery.
Allah. Allah. Allah. Give me strength, Allah.
He explained with diagrams what he meant. The good thing is, the aneurysm is small and it just requires regular monitoring. The worst thing that can possibly happen is a sudden heart attack. He has to learn how to manage stress and live a healthy lifestyle.
I nodded at appropriate pauses and tried to keep those tears out. I remember going to the counter to arrange for my next appointment. Then, I walked in a daze and only realised that I was at the taxi stand when I almost knocked into a display panel. I told the taxi driver where I wanted to go. And miraculously (because Allah is kind and merciful and so He sends me good friends and a great family), 3 of my friends asked me separately how Ihsan was when I was in the taxi. The tears that I had stoically kept within myself flowed. The enormity of the situation was too much to bear and on these friends, I unburdened my sorrow. (Thank you.)
---
A week passed. And I felt better. I saw the silver lining behind this dark cloud. So many people unknowingly live with their aneurysms. At least for us, we know he has one and we can get it monitored at regular intervals. We can take precautions and with Allah's mercy, Ihsan will live a long, healthy life. Amin.
Sunday, April 05, 2015
April 2015 (Part Me!)
So here I am.
First, the excuses.
Why haven't I been writing?
1. The children keep me busy.
2. I'm still playing Candy Crush.
3. My laptop has aged considerably and is now moving as fast as, errrr, me?
4. I was busy discovering apartments and mansions on airbnb.
5. My sister introduced me to reddit. (Where have I been all this while?)
6. I think I've run out of excuses.
Who shall I write about first? #1? #2? #3? Or shall I write about me? Yes, me it shall be. (Come on, stop groaning now.)
Haha!
Aiyah. Just a short one. (I hope.)
I have some extra kilograms on me now. Yesterday, I started my first exercise programme since I became pregnant. That's about 16 months of no exercise. I rode The Husband's steel stallion, ie, his exercise bike. According to the display, I burnt 150 calories. But I don't think that's enough to burn the tubs of Nutella Tarts that I have been consuming. Of course home bakers don't have that nutrition (or lack thereof) table on their bottles. But I bet the big tub of nutella tarts that I almost single-handedly ploughed in less than a week contained at least 10,000 calories. There's a 100 of those little devils inside each tub. Each of them has a whole lot of butter and sugar in the tarts and that nutella filling? Oh. My. God. Divine stuff. And I only burnt 150 calories. How can I ever see a thigh gap. I'm never going to see a thigh gap. Ever.
But after that, I watched 'My 600-lb Life' on Channel 425. That's almost 300kg. After the show, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. So relieved I was by the reflection that I did a little jig. I think this is how people grow obese. By watching shows about people who are morbidly obese and then comforting yourself, that you are not *that* bad. But the absence of a thigh gap tells me that I could be making my way there. The steel stallion shall not be ignored. Tomorrow, we will be acquainted again.
I've been on unpaid leave since January and I have not read any books! Unless you count children's books. And more children's books. I have to randomly read the books the kids bring home to make sure that the contents are not objectionable. This random reading brought me to an End Blyton book. I've always had a thing for The Naughtiest Girl series. But somehow, I never read the Malory Towers series. So, I read it. And I found it objectionable. Two sisters were getting ready for school and their mother appeared in the doorway. A magnificent description of the mother followed. The sisters were so pleased by the mother's appearance because it simply would not do for a mother to look anything less than a diva. Especially when all their friends would know that that woman was their mother. And worse, those girls pooh-poohed a schoolmate whose mother cried as she took the train to go to the boarding school. I stopped reading right there. I could not go on. I don't know if the girls changed their opinions at the end of the book but no, oh no.
As a card-carrying-member of the Frumpy Mothers Club who wears Fitflops with everything and abhors contact lenses and prefers her nerdish glasses and whose tudung is always penyek like a keropok lemau, my daughter cannot read about daughters who prefer their mothers to look like goddesses. *clears phlegm and spits* There, you snooty Malory Towers girls. Take my phlegm, spat out with as much disdain as I imagine you show me.
Sooooo. Anyway. I have not read any story books for my own personal enjoyment. Fiction. Newspapers, tafsir Quran, blogs, facebook walls, twitter feeds etc don't count.
Speaking of twitter feeds. My twitter was hijacked by some Russian bots and then it made me follow a whole lot of funny characters, including Erdogan, Turkey's PM. And a lot of sleazy characters too. Since I hardly use it, I finally decided to kill the twitter account. So now I'm left with FB (in which I'm still pretty active) and IG (only one photo uploaded and every few weeks, I will remember it and trawl a length of IG feeds and that's it).
Quite a long story about me. Hehe. Will stop here and my next post will be about #3.
First, the excuses.
Why haven't I been writing?
1. The children keep me busy.
2. I'm still playing Candy Crush.
3. My laptop has aged considerably and is now moving as fast as, errrr, me?
4. I was busy discovering apartments and mansions on airbnb.
5. My sister introduced me to reddit. (Where have I been all this while?)
6. I think I've run out of excuses.
Who shall I write about first? #1? #2? #3? Or shall I write about me? Yes, me it shall be. (Come on, stop groaning now.)
Haha!
Aiyah. Just a short one. (I hope.)
I have some extra kilograms on me now. Yesterday, I started my first exercise programme since I became pregnant. That's about 16 months of no exercise. I rode The Husband's steel stallion, ie, his exercise bike. According to the display, I burnt 150 calories. But I don't think that's enough to burn the tubs of Nutella Tarts that I have been consuming. Of course home bakers don't have that nutrition (or lack thereof) table on their bottles. But I bet the big tub of nutella tarts that I almost single-handedly ploughed in less than a week contained at least 10,000 calories. There's a 100 of those little devils inside each tub. Each of them has a whole lot of butter and sugar in the tarts and that nutella filling? Oh. My. God. Divine stuff. And I only burnt 150 calories. How can I ever see a thigh gap. I'm never going to see a thigh gap. Ever.
But after that, I watched 'My 600-lb Life' on Channel 425. That's almost 300kg. After the show, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. So relieved I was by the reflection that I did a little jig. I think this is how people grow obese. By watching shows about people who are morbidly obese and then comforting yourself, that you are not *that* bad. But the absence of a thigh gap tells me that I could be making my way there. The steel stallion shall not be ignored. Tomorrow, we will be acquainted again.
I've been on unpaid leave since January and I have not read any books! Unless you count children's books. And more children's books. I have to randomly read the books the kids bring home to make sure that the contents are not objectionable. This random reading brought me to an End Blyton book. I've always had a thing for The Naughtiest Girl series. But somehow, I never read the Malory Towers series. So, I read it. And I found it objectionable. Two sisters were getting ready for school and their mother appeared in the doorway. A magnificent description of the mother followed. The sisters were so pleased by the mother's appearance because it simply would not do for a mother to look anything less than a diva. Especially when all their friends would know that that woman was their mother. And worse, those girls pooh-poohed a schoolmate whose mother cried as she took the train to go to the boarding school. I stopped reading right there. I could not go on. I don't know if the girls changed their opinions at the end of the book but no, oh no.
As a card-carrying-member of the Frumpy Mothers Club who wears Fitflops with everything and abhors contact lenses and prefers her nerdish glasses and whose tudung is always penyek like a keropok lemau, my daughter cannot read about daughters who prefer their mothers to look like goddesses. *clears phlegm and spits* There, you snooty Malory Towers girls. Take my phlegm, spat out with as much disdain as I imagine you show me.
Sooooo. Anyway. I have not read any story books for my own personal enjoyment. Fiction. Newspapers, tafsir Quran, blogs, facebook walls, twitter feeds etc don't count.
Speaking of twitter feeds. My twitter was hijacked by some Russian bots and then it made me follow a whole lot of funny characters, including Erdogan, Turkey's PM. And a lot of sleazy characters too. Since I hardly use it, I finally decided to kill the twitter account. So now I'm left with FB (in which I'm still pretty active) and IG (only one photo uploaded and every few weeks, I will remember it and trawl a length of IG feeds and that's it).
Quite a long story about me. Hehe. Will stop here and my next post will be about #3.
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Friday, January 23, 2015
23 January 2015 (II)
Oh boy. Am I on a roll or what.
Mistakes
While I can't stand how so many entries are riddled with grammatical and typographical errors, I simply am not doing much about them.
As with diary writing, everything that I write is unplanned. Well, there is some kind of vague planning that goes on in my head but from one idea, the writing goes everywhere.
I cringe when I eventually re-read my entries and see the mistakes but after 2 seconds, I decide against doing anything about it.
One day. One day, I will do something about it. But when will that day ever come? Ha. Ha. Ha.
One Day
Talking about One Day. I read this book by David Nicholls with the same title. I think it was Starter for Ten that started me on my David Nicholls binge. (What binge. Only 2 books.) I loved the twist in Starter for Ten and I thought he was a brilliant author. But, oh... After investing the whole night and half the morning (the very wee hours of the morning) in One Day, I realised that the protagonist died. How I also died at that point after investing so much emotion in Emma. Anyway. He has a new book "Us" and since I don't have the luxury of spending uninterrupted hours reading away, I (who happened to see the book at Popular bookstore) read the first 2 chapters and the last 2 chapters. So now I know the gist of the story and more importantly, the twist in the story and I can go along my merry way without remembering even the name of the main characters. Hooray!
Okay. That's all. Trying to make myself feel less annoyed after the failed nursing wear online shopping trip (see previous post).
Reading
Eh wait. That is not all.
Talking about books made me wonder when was the last time I read a good book. In the name of work (which I won't be engaged in 'til 2017), I had to read quite a lot of novels pitched for bigger children in the 11-12 age group. I needed material for setting exam papers. And now that my own girls are reading quite a lot of books, I have to read what they are reading. For a variety of reasons. Primary reason - as a censorship board. Secondary reason - so I know what they are reading and to know their wavelength. So I've been reading Rainbow Magic (Help me. There are 100+ Rainbow Magic books and the kids are quite adamant that they would read everything and then reread them), Charlie and Lola (Lola was cute the first 2 times I read about her but is now absolutely supremely annoying), Horrid Henry (if I could only reach through the pages of the books and throttle that #%&*!$#% boy), Ivy and Bean and God-knows-what-else. Thankfully, Huda is going through a recipe book phase now and so, out of the maximum of 20 library books that we allow them to borrow each visit, at least 3 will be some kind of cookbook.
Wait. What I wanted to say was - when was the last time I read a real good book not meant for children? Must check out Amazon's Kindle Books. (Averse to physical storybooks for now because I'm going through a minimalist phase brought on by the horrifying piles and piles of stuff I threw/gave away recently.)
Okay. That is all. Really.
Mistakes
While I can't stand how so many entries are riddled with grammatical and typographical errors, I simply am not doing much about them.
As with diary writing, everything that I write is unplanned. Well, there is some kind of vague planning that goes on in my head but from one idea, the writing goes everywhere.
I cringe when I eventually re-read my entries and see the mistakes but after 2 seconds, I decide against doing anything about it.
One day. One day, I will do something about it. But when will that day ever come? Ha. Ha. Ha.
One Day
Talking about One Day. I read this book by David Nicholls with the same title. I think it was Starter for Ten that started me on my David Nicholls binge. (What binge. Only 2 books.) I loved the twist in Starter for Ten and I thought he was a brilliant author. But, oh... After investing the whole night and half the morning (the very wee hours of the morning) in One Day, I realised that the protagonist died. How I also died at that point after investing so much emotion in Emma. Anyway. He has a new book "Us" and since I don't have the luxury of spending uninterrupted hours reading away, I (who happened to see the book at Popular bookstore) read the first 2 chapters and the last 2 chapters. So now I know the gist of the story and more importantly, the twist in the story and I can go along my merry way without remembering even the name of the main characters. Hooray!
Okay. That's all. Trying to make myself feel less annoyed after the failed nursing wear online shopping trip (see previous post).
Reading
Eh wait. That is not all.
Talking about books made me wonder when was the last time I read a good book. In the name of work (which I won't be engaged in 'til 2017), I had to read quite a lot of novels pitched for bigger children in the 11-12 age group. I needed material for setting exam papers. And now that my own girls are reading quite a lot of books, I have to read what they are reading. For a variety of reasons. Primary reason - as a censorship board. Secondary reason - so I know what they are reading and to know their wavelength. So I've been reading Rainbow Magic (Help me. There are 100+ Rainbow Magic books and the kids are quite adamant that they would read everything and then reread them), Charlie and Lola (Lola was cute the first 2 times I read about her but is now absolutely supremely annoying), Horrid Henry (if I could only reach through the pages of the books and throttle that #%&*!$#% boy), Ivy and Bean and God-knows-what-else. Thankfully, Huda is going through a recipe book phase now and so, out of the maximum of 20 library books that we allow them to borrow each visit, at least 3 will be some kind of cookbook.
Wait. What I wanted to say was - when was the last time I read a real good book not meant for children? Must check out Amazon's Kindle Books. (Averse to physical storybooks for now because I'm going through a minimalist phase brought on by the horrifying piles and piles of stuff I threw/gave away recently.)
Okay. That is all. Really.
23 January 2015
Why are nursing tops so expensive? They are so ridiculously priced!
I want to get a few more nursing tops as the ones I have now are all from Huda and Farah's time and therefore, they are just a few washes away from being rags.
I went to some Malaysian websites to look for tops which are of the sopan variety and the tops made me shudder in agony. I am far from being a fashionista so if I think the clothes are just too garish, they really are too garish.
There are some nice ones which unfortunately cost at least an arm and an additional thumb. I can't bring myself to pay $60 for a long sleeve T-shirt with nursing openings.
I should just get button-down shirts, right? The problem is, I feed the little boy everywhere, including the train. Regular button-down shirts do show a bit of skin should the little boy fiddle around with my tudung or push it away while drinking milk.
So now, I need new nursing tops and have been searching for them online since this morning but cannot find nice ones that don't require me to either sell off TheHusband's gadgets or start a gofundme drive. *somewhat annoyed*
I want to get a few more nursing tops as the ones I have now are all from Huda and Farah's time and therefore, they are just a few washes away from being rags.
I went to some Malaysian websites to look for tops which are of the sopan variety and the tops made me shudder in agony. I am far from being a fashionista so if I think the clothes are just too garish, they really are too garish.
There are some nice ones which unfortunately cost at least an arm and an additional thumb. I can't bring myself to pay $60 for a long sleeve T-shirt with nursing openings.
I should just get button-down shirts, right? The problem is, I feed the little boy everywhere, including the train. Regular button-down shirts do show a bit of skin should the little boy fiddle around with my tudung or push it away while drinking milk.
So now, I need new nursing tops and have been searching for them online since this morning but cannot find nice ones that don't require me to either sell off TheHusband's gadgets or start a gofundme drive. *somewhat annoyed*
Thursday, January 15, 2015
4 January 2015
Huda
Huda (all 23kg of her) is sitting on my lap now and wants me to write about her. She says she doesn't mind me writing mildly embarrassing things about her and she won't hold me accountable for leaking all these little trivia.
1. She likes to eat.
She loves to eat so much that her ambition is to become fat. I kid you not. Seriously. She wants to be fat. She has a cousin who's a bit on the heavy side and she wants to be just like her. This cousin is also eloquent and is an almost-GEP student, going for a few rounds of the tests before not making the final cut. The cousin is an 'influencer' (to copy the terms used by certain blogging companies now. haha) among all the cousins and I guess that's partly the reason she wants to be just like that cousin.
2. She likes to go to school early.
This girl is somewhat obsessed about going to school as early as possible. The situation was almost insane last year when she was in the afternoon session. Now that she's in the morning session, it's not too bad. She can't go that early unless she wakes up at 4am. She sets off for school at 6.30am with her father. School is a leisurely 15-minute stroll away. So she still reaches school extremely early, when the sky is still dark. These things make her happy.
3. CCA
We had to choose a CCA for her this year. She was in ICT Club in P1 and P2. Now, at P3, she has been given a chance to choose another CCA and she has chosen Brownies. I have never been in a uniformed group all my life, always choosing a 'light' CCA because I'm just, well, not too keen on these things. Eh wait. JC was a bit different. But I initially thought AVA Club in JC was similar to AVA Club in secondary school. Relak one corner kinda CCA. Little did I know...
Anyway. She chose Brownies. I am praying for her to get her second choice CCA, Library Club. :D
4. Maths is a killjoy
She's not incapable in Maths but I think all the scolding I gave while teaching her Maths has really sucked any bit of joy she might have found in the subject. I am now counselling myself into being a paragon of patience when it comes to coaching her in Maths. When it comes to my pupils in school, I can repeat my explanation slowly, differently til almost everyone understands. But when it comes to your own child, your expectation of your child is so much higher that you get inordinately upset when she cannot do a sum. It is not healthy. I do feel that the primary school syllabus requires pupils to have a mathematical maturity ahead of their time. Well, perhaps not. Perhaps it's just schools that set tests which distinguish the A* pupils from the rest of the folks. Sigh. Surely there is a very good explanation why pupils who do badly in PSLE Mathematics end up surviving and some even doing well in secondary school Mathematics. Double sigh. I will be more patient. I will be more patient. I will be more patient.
Huda (all 23kg of her) is sitting on my lap now and wants me to write about her. She says she doesn't mind me writing mildly embarrassing things about her and she won't hold me accountable for leaking all these little trivia.
1. She likes to eat.
She loves to eat so much that her ambition is to become fat. I kid you not. Seriously. She wants to be fat. She has a cousin who's a bit on the heavy side and she wants to be just like her. This cousin is also eloquent and is an almost-GEP student, going for a few rounds of the tests before not making the final cut. The cousin is an 'influencer' (to copy the terms used by certain blogging companies now. haha) among all the cousins and I guess that's partly the reason she wants to be just like that cousin.
2. She likes to go to school early.
This girl is somewhat obsessed about going to school as early as possible. The situation was almost insane last year when she was in the afternoon session. Now that she's in the morning session, it's not too bad. She can't go that early unless she wakes up at 4am. She sets off for school at 6.30am with her father. School is a leisurely 15-minute stroll away. So she still reaches school extremely early, when the sky is still dark. These things make her happy.
3. CCA
We had to choose a CCA for her this year. She was in ICT Club in P1 and P2. Now, at P3, she has been given a chance to choose another CCA and she has chosen Brownies. I have never been in a uniformed group all my life, always choosing a 'light' CCA because I'm just, well, not too keen on these things. Eh wait. JC was a bit different. But I initially thought AVA Club in JC was similar to AVA Club in secondary school. Relak one corner kinda CCA. Little did I know...
Anyway. She chose Brownies. I am praying for her to get her second choice CCA, Library Club. :D
4. Maths is a killjoy
She's not incapable in Maths but I think all the scolding I gave while teaching her Maths has really sucked any bit of joy she might have found in the subject. I am now counselling myself into being a paragon of patience when it comes to coaching her in Maths. When it comes to my pupils in school, I can repeat my explanation slowly, differently til almost everyone understands. But when it comes to your own child, your expectation of your child is so much higher that you get inordinately upset when she cannot do a sum. It is not healthy. I do feel that the primary school syllabus requires pupils to have a mathematical maturity ahead of their time. Well, perhaps not. Perhaps it's just schools that set tests which distinguish the A* pupils from the rest of the folks. Sigh. Surely there is a very good explanation why pupils who do badly in PSLE Mathematics end up surviving and some even doing well in secondary school Mathematics. Double sigh. I will be more patient. I will be more patient. I will be more patient.
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