Day 1
Oh-so-excited.
"Tengok Ibu, oh, cantiknya baju..."
New shirt, new pants, new socks (used pair of shoes though- hands-me-down from Abang Ujai)
"Ibu, Akif nak pergi sekolah. Akif nak berjaya"
Ibu was pleasantly surprised by the declaration (and made a quick do'a that he will grow up as a success in both dunya wal akhirah)
Class was a bit chaotic - but we found a place for him.
Immediately saw a box of Lego - and started playing
Which prompted others in the class to also join him playing.
I left when the situation looked to be a little more in control and the kindy's grille was closed.
Security is a major concern when Akif is known to have gone wandering on his own.
When I picked him after work - he was crying.
Apparently he had gone out of the classroom twice!
Oh dear.
Once, when the students who are only attending the morning session went home.
In the midst of them, Akif went out on his own and went to a convenience shop.
Found by a kind makcik who even paid for a toy robot for Akif and returned him to the kindy (known from the name tag he put on)
He slipped out of the kindy again when a fellow student was about to leave in the evening.
A teacher immediately ran after him - and he almost made it to the main road had not a passer-by stopped him.
He started crying in protest when he was taken back to the kindy/transit.
And that was the condition I found him in - in tears of protest...
Day 2
Moody right from the very beginning.
Wanted to put on his "baju Tom & Jerry" (pyjamas) after shower.
I pointed out that 'baju cantik' is nicer to put on, as "baju Tom & Jerry dah kotor"
After a struggle, managed to make him wore the white t-shirt and navy blue track bottoms on.
When we stopped at the nursery to drop his younger brothers, he went inside the nursery.
The care takers had to convince him that he had to go to 'sekolah lain' as 'Akif dah tak sekolah sini dah'.
He didn't want to bulge so had to forcefully dragged him into the car.
When we arrived at his kindy, he refused to bulge.
Had to pick him up and carried him like a baby all the way to the front door.
And then he started wailing "Ibu, jomlah kita balik rumah".
Tried to negotiate with him.
Didn't work.
Tried to distract him by asking him to join his peers wiggling and swaying to song as taught by the teacher.
Didn't work.
In fact he only cried louder.
"Akif tak nak sekolah... Jomlah kita balik rumah, Ibu..."
Another girl who had been observing him looked alarmingly like she was going to start crying too.
So I knew I had to make a quick exit.
A teacher hold him and signed it was okay for me to leave.
And I left.
And I could hear his loud wail even from behind closed door.
It was not easy to walk away.
I waited for a few minutes until the cry seemed to subside - outside the kindy.
It didn't last very long.
But still, it was not easy to walk away...
Thursday, January 05, 2012
Monday, December 12, 2011
To blog or to stop
A lot had happened and I didn't blog about them.
It has been so long that it feels almost strange to be writing this.
In the past, this blog had been an outlet for me to share my thoughts, feelings and experiences as they happened. This year, it almost seem like nothing had happened when I did not blog.
Many times, I talked in my head as if I was blogging, but I did not blog in reality.
Not about how difficult it was for Huzaifah to adapt in the new school, of his 'keluar sekolah' episodes and how we had to meet and discuss with the school's headmistress and different teachers to sort stuff out.
Not about how adventurous Humaidi had grown to be - so much so that it has been 3 times that he had to be fetched from the police station and I've lost count of 'missing' episodes in shopping malls when I had to seek help from security officers to help me find him.
Not about the 'supernatural' disturbance at home that caused upset as much as fear.
Not about the arrival of our fourth addition to the family, Muhammad Aqil Hazim, in June.
Not about the death of my biological mother, Ummi, on the day baby Aqil turned 5 months.
This year, there was no entry on my birthday, on my children's birthdays or on our 7th wedding anniversary.
I am pondering now - whether to keep on blogging or to say adieu for good...
After all, I had already missed blogging for almost one whole year...
It has been so long that it feels almost strange to be writing this.
In the past, this blog had been an outlet for me to share my thoughts, feelings and experiences as they happened. This year, it almost seem like nothing had happened when I did not blog.
Many times, I talked in my head as if I was blogging, but I did not blog in reality.
Not about how difficult it was for Huzaifah to adapt in the new school, of his 'keluar sekolah' episodes and how we had to meet and discuss with the school's headmistress and different teachers to sort stuff out.
Not about how adventurous Humaidi had grown to be - so much so that it has been 3 times that he had to be fetched from the police station and I've lost count of 'missing' episodes in shopping malls when I had to seek help from security officers to help me find him.
Not about the 'supernatural' disturbance at home that caused upset as much as fear.
Not about the arrival of our fourth addition to the family, Muhammad Aqil Hazim, in June.
Not about the death of my biological mother, Ummi, on the day baby Aqil turned 5 months.
This year, there was no entry on my birthday, on my children's birthdays or on our 7th wedding anniversary.
I am pondering now - whether to keep on blogging or to say adieu for good...
After all, I had already missed blogging for almost one whole year...
Friday, March 25, 2011
Mak buyung
Remember when I was pregnant with Humaidi and people had trouble telling that I was actually carrying a baby in my tummy?
Back then, at 6 months pregnant, I looked like this:
I didn't even have to wear a materity jeans. That pair I wore in the above pictures is a normal pair of jeans, not a maternity pair with extended spandex panel.
Fast forward 4 years later and this is how I look being almost 6 months pregnant with the 4th child:
Yup, I weigh more now than I used to weigh at full term with Humaidi or Huzaifah...
Back then, at 6 months pregnant, I looked like this:
I didn't even have to wear a materity jeans. That pair I wore in the above pictures is a normal pair of jeans, not a maternity pair with extended spandex panel.
Fast forward 4 years later and this is how I look being almost 6 months pregnant with the 4th child:
(Ya, bola yang dipikul dan perut yang di depan sudah hampir sama bulatnya)
(Dah, dah, lepas ni dah tak boleh pakai baju kurung. Sila keluarkan uniform ye, puan...)
Yup, I weigh more now than I used to weigh at full term with Humaidi or Huzaifah...
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Conteng conteng
"Ujai tolong cuci kat sini," he said, pointing to a purple blot of circular scribble.
"Ibu cuci kat atas ni," he pointed to another a lot larger black circular-and-longitudinal scribble.
I passed a small scouring pad to him with a dash of Cif on it and agreed, "Okay".
His father had asked him to clean up the wall after he scribbled on it before, so Huzaifah usually is more reserved about scribbling on the wall compared to his younger brothers. He knows that it is no easy task to scrub the wall and he knows that it's not that we are angry with him scribbling - it's just that we don't like him and his brothers scribbling on the wall, because it makes the house look dirty and uncared for.
For a child of 5, I think Huzaifah has been showing lots of potential to be a responsible big brother. When I had no bibik to help around, he would assist with picking up the laundry from the clothes line. As I fold the clothes, he would help with finding matching socks or t-shirt-and-pants pairs. If I had to mediate and divide toys such as bulding blocks between Humaidi and Haniyya, Huzaifah would ensure that his brothers play fair, by being the level-playing big brother. For instance if I had given some blocks to Haniyya and Humaidi took them away, Huzaifah would make it up by giving other blocks to Haniyya - to Humaidi's chagrin of course, but to my pleasure as I observe how Huzaifah has developed a sense of fairness and respect the notion of sharing.
I know that he hasn't been given any task by the current bibik who claimed that he only 'kacau' her in carrying out chores. I wish she would give him more chances to prove his worth, but then again, I guess that's part of the price we pay when we are not stay-at-home-mom.
Anyway, can anybody share tips to avoid young children from scribbling on the wall? Like most young children I know, my sons are no exception to the "whee-the-wall-is-clean-let's-doodle-on-it" syndrome. Like most caretakers of young children, we - bibik, hubby and I - didn't always manage to stop the boys in time from doodling and scribbling on the wall. We usually offer the alternative of scribbling in books - note books, activity books, colouring books. But for some unfathomable reason, they always prefer scribbling on the wall. Or on the floor. Or on any other surfaces - the dining table, dining chairs, bed sheet, fridge, washing machine, sofa - but for on paper. Duh.
Not that we don't have any white board in the house, but the boys, especially Humaidi, could be unpredictable at times, and there are reasons to worry about the kids' safety should one decide to just topple down the white board for fun.
I know that scribbling is good for the kids - it helps to express their creativity , raise their confidence, improve their eye-hand coordination, develop their imagination bla, bla, bla. And to be honest, I kind of enjoy looking at their scribbles too - 'flowers' that resembled Godzilla head, "sun" which was scribbled with black crayon instead of the cheery yellow or orange, assorted dots and scratches in multiple colors that resembled sweets and candies. It's just that I wish they would enjoy scribbling in books rather than on the wall or the floor or any other supposedly 'off-limit' surfaces.
Bibik claimed that she's been cleaning the wall a few weeks ago, but the scribbles refused to fade.
"Bibik guna apa buat cuci dinding?"
"Saya guna clorox. Banyak pun, tapi tak hilang-hilang juga"
"Tak payah guna clorox Bik, guna krim kuning ni," I pointed to Cif, the lemon cream cleanser formerly known as Jif.
(The truth is, I doubted that she actually did any wall-scrubbing since there was no left-over smell of Clorox when she said she did, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt)
When she complained again last night about the wall being an eye-sore with all the colourful scribbles made with crayons, colour pencils and marker, I just took a scouring pad and Cif and started scrubbing the wall, beginning with the one closest to the front door. Bibik quickly followed suit by 'rinsing' the freshly-scrubbed wall with a wet towel.
The house still currently smells strongly of Cif. Like it ocassionally does everytime we have a wall-scrubbing session. In fact last night, there was an incident when Haniyya scribbled on a freshly-scrubbed wall, which meant I had to re-scrub it.
Hmm, wonder when will they learn that it's okay to scribble, but not on the wall?
"Ibu cuci kat atas ni," he pointed to another a lot larger black circular-and-longitudinal scribble.
I passed a small scouring pad to him with a dash of Cif on it and agreed, "Okay".
His father had asked him to clean up the wall after he scribbled on it before, so Huzaifah usually is more reserved about scribbling on the wall compared to his younger brothers. He knows that it is no easy task to scrub the wall and he knows that it's not that we are angry with him scribbling - it's just that we don't like him and his brothers scribbling on the wall, because it makes the house look dirty and uncared for.
For a child of 5, I think Huzaifah has been showing lots of potential to be a responsible big brother. When I had no bibik to help around, he would assist with picking up the laundry from the clothes line. As I fold the clothes, he would help with finding matching socks or t-shirt-and-pants pairs. If I had to mediate and divide toys such as bulding blocks between Humaidi and Haniyya, Huzaifah would ensure that his brothers play fair, by being the level-playing big brother. For instance if I had given some blocks to Haniyya and Humaidi took them away, Huzaifah would make it up by giving other blocks to Haniyya - to Humaidi's chagrin of course, but to my pleasure as I observe how Huzaifah has developed a sense of fairness and respect the notion of sharing.
I know that he hasn't been given any task by the current bibik who claimed that he only 'kacau' her in carrying out chores. I wish she would give him more chances to prove his worth, but then again, I guess that's part of the price we pay when we are not stay-at-home-mom.
Anyway, can anybody share tips to avoid young children from scribbling on the wall? Like most young children I know, my sons are no exception to the "whee-the-wall-is-clean-let's-doodle-on-it" syndrome. Like most caretakers of young children, we - bibik, hubby and I - didn't always manage to stop the boys in time from doodling and scribbling on the wall. We usually offer the alternative of scribbling in books - note books, activity books, colouring books. But for some unfathomable reason, they always prefer scribbling on the wall. Or on the floor. Or on any other surfaces - the dining table, dining chairs, bed sheet, fridge, washing machine, sofa - but for on paper. Duh.
Not that we don't have any white board in the house, but the boys, especially Humaidi, could be unpredictable at times, and there are reasons to worry about the kids' safety should one decide to just topple down the white board for fun.
I know that scribbling is good for the kids - it helps to express their creativity , raise their confidence, improve their eye-hand coordination, develop their imagination bla, bla, bla. And to be honest, I kind of enjoy looking at their scribbles too - 'flowers' that resembled Godzilla head, "sun" which was scribbled with black crayon instead of the cheery yellow or orange, assorted dots and scratches in multiple colors that resembled sweets and candies. It's just that I wish they would enjoy scribbling in books rather than on the wall or the floor or any other supposedly 'off-limit' surfaces.
Bibik claimed that she's been cleaning the wall a few weeks ago, but the scribbles refused to fade.
"Bibik guna apa buat cuci dinding?"
"Saya guna clorox. Banyak pun, tapi tak hilang-hilang juga"
"Tak payah guna clorox Bik, guna krim kuning ni," I pointed to Cif, the lemon cream cleanser formerly known as Jif.
(The truth is, I doubted that she actually did any wall-scrubbing since there was no left-over smell of Clorox when she said she did, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt)
When she complained again last night about the wall being an eye-sore with all the colourful scribbles made with crayons, colour pencils and marker, I just took a scouring pad and Cif and started scrubbing the wall, beginning with the one closest to the front door. Bibik quickly followed suit by 'rinsing' the freshly-scrubbed wall with a wet towel.
The house still currently smells strongly of Cif. Like it ocassionally does everytime we have a wall-scrubbing session. In fact last night, there was an incident when Haniyya scribbled on a freshly-scrubbed wall, which meant I had to re-scrub it.
Hmm, wonder when will they learn that it's okay to scribble, but not on the wall?
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
I agree, this is not funny
When it started getting attention in Malaysian blogs, FB and Twitter, I prayed that it would not reach too much further.
Then, the CNN picked up on it. It made many of us went "uh oh".
I was still hoping that it would not reach the majority of the Japan population who prefer Japanese medium news.
Today, it made headlines in Japan news.
Even I in Malaysia feel so embarrassed by this, I can't imagine what it is like for Malaysians who are working and studying in Japan to be questioned about this by their Nihonjin peers...
It is definitely not a laughing matter.
Not funny. At all.
Nihonjin Sugoi!
Before anyone get the wrong idea that I care more about what had happened in Japan compared to what is taking place in Middle East due to my blog entry after a long hiatus, well, the only explanation I can give was that I was busy with preparation for a big event (for us in the office anyway) held in end of February. Hubby cancelled our broadband subscription at about the same time, so I could not blog from home. And even when we had the mobile broadband, he was always taking it with him to places, which also meant that I could not blog from home... Okay, enough with my excuses...
Anyway, I came across this touching entry on FB by Jun Shiomitsu and could not help thinking how different things might be if such jishin and tsunami hit Malaysia. And by 'different' - I am thinking more towards the unbecoming...
"At a supermarket where everything was scattered everywhere over the floors, shoppers were helping pick them up and putting them back neatly on the shelves before quietly moving into line to wait to pay for them... Everyone there was mindful of others, buying only as much as they needed and leaving the rest for the people behind them"
No looting, no robbery. Customers were very civilised, not greedily grabbing everything on the shelves. The shops continue selling things for normal price, sometimes even giving out discounts and distribute free food to the customers.
(Yup, let's not even try to compare to what happened when there was a rice spill on the road due to an accident in Malaysia...)
(or the infamous 'kutip syiling atas jalan' incident)
"Cars were moving at the rate of maybe one every green light, but everyone was letting each other go first with a warm look and a smile. At a complicated intersection, the traffic was at a complete standstill for 5 minutes, but I listened for 10 minutes and didn’t hear a single beep or honk except for an occasional one thanking someone for giving way"
"More than 1,000 cars lined up in front of a local gas station. As the gas station's supply was short, it only sold fuel worth 2,000 yen per vehicle"
(The scenario of long queues at petrol stations, impatient honking, blocking, petrol hogging etc, everytime a price hike on petrol is announced in Malaysia immediately came to mind)
"...people standing in line, not pushing or shoving to get onto the train, even at a time like this"
(It would be a miracle to see such organized long queues in Malaysia's train/LRT station)
Stories about parents searching for their child or children looking for their parent or partners searching for their other halves really serve as an effective reminder of how scary it is going to be in the hereafter... While there are lessons that we can learn from Nihonjin, let's make do'a that they too will be led closer to the Creator, who keep providing strength and sustenance in this trying time...
Monday, March 14, 2011
They will rise again
Picture from The New York Times
"Do we know anybody in Sendai?", asked hubby.
"Luqman used to live in Sendai, but he's been back for past one year or so"
"Do we know anybody in Iwate?"
"Hafiz, but he's back in Malaysia too, if I'm not mistaken. Oh, Abang Azrain's son Firdhaus is in Iwate..."
"Have we heard from him?"
"No, but the Malaysian Embassy have issued a statement saying that all government-sponsored students in the areas hit by the tsunami and jishin are okay..."
"Have we heard from other friends in other cities?"
"I've read from FB that the jishin in Tokyo lasted longer and stronger than the 'normal' ones like we used to experience..."
Our thoughts, prayers and wishes are with Japan and the people in Japan right now for a speedy recovery. Not only Japan, the whole world was shaken by the calamity due to the devastating tsunami and jishin. When we were living in Tokyo, we had heard of the prediction of the Big One - a massive earthquake - coming. Alhamdulillah, we left before it actually happened, but never in our mind we imagined that it would be this massive - 8.9- magnitude, the strongest in Japan's history, causing more than 350,000 to be homeless, and perhaps more than 10,000 death toll.
It was utterly heartbreaking to see houses, shop lots, offices, cars, trucks and ships being swept away by the tsunami, causing whole town or village to be wiped off the map in the blink of an eye. And now, with the nuclear troubles, it is no wonder at all that this might be after all, just what Prime Minister Naoto Kan described - Japan's “worst crisis since World War II.”
Still, if there is something I've learned about the Japanese during the three years I called Tokyo 'home', they will rise again, insya Allah. With their strong discipline, their never-back-down "gambare" spirit, they will
pick through what little was left in the rubble and start building again. Relentlessly. Resiliently.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Asim is 2!
Alhamdulillah, Haniyya turned 2 today.
2 years since that long, long day I waited in the ante-natal ward in PPUM when it took hours for him to be ready to come out of Ibu's tummy.
I remembered being placed in front of a 1st timer mother-to-be who asked me "Akak tak sakit ke? Nampak akak relaks je" Hah, if only you knew! Maybe she came to that conclusion because I was not moaning aloud and still managed to read a magazine. The truth was, I was in pain, but I concentrated on reciting lots of zikr and sometimes I walked all around the ward to help lessen the pain. The pain did not really go away, this is not a fairy-tale world after all, but at least I got some distraction. The contractions were not that far apart all day long, my back was in deep pain but the opening was slow to grow. It was 1 cm at 9.30 in the morning, 2 cm at 2.30 p.m, 4 cm at 8.00 p.m.
By 9.45 p.m., the opening had grown to 8cm, so I was wheeled down to the labour room at around 10.00 p.m. A doctor helped broke my waterbag, but something didn't feel quite right. I was left alone in the labour room, "Lama lagi kot ni, bukaan tak berapa besar", the doctor said before leaving me. But as it had happened with both Haniyya's elder brother, once the waterbag was broken, it wasn't long before I was ready to give birth. I felt a sudden urge to push, and I knew it was time - but I was alone in the labour room. To make things worse, the bell ringer which was supposed to be placed next to me in case I need to call for assistance was nowhere to be found. I decided to call out in a loud voice.
"Doktor... Doktor..."
No answer.
"Doktor...DOKTORRRR"
I increased my tone by a few decibels
A nurse passing by heard me and walked into the room.
"Ya puan... Oh, puan dah nak bersalin ya? Kejap, saya panggil doktor ya"
A trainee doctor came in but when the two nurses who came with her prompted her to get ready since "hah, dah nampak dah kepala baby tu", she claimed that she had no experience with delivering a baby, so she went to get a 'real doctor' for me. The two nurses immediately started to get ready for a delivery. And it wasn't long before Dr Stephanie stepped in to help delivering the baby.
And then, another senior doctor stepped in. Reading the baby heartbeat monitor, she advised me, "Cepat sikit ye, anak puan dah distressed ni"
Yet at the same time, Dr Stephanie was asking me to "jangan push dulu, sekejap ya puan.. "
I was confused. I was fuddled. I wasn't sure which advice I should heed.
But Haniyya could not wait anymore.
It happened so fast that I overheard Dr Stephanie later described it as a "combustion expulsion" to her colleague.
One push and slussshhhh... he was out.
All 3.75kg of him.
*****
2 years later, Haniyya is still the baby in the family.
When Huzaifah turned 2, Humaidi was already 5 months old.
When Humaidi turned 2, Haniyya was almost 2 months old.
Panjang umur murah rezeki, Haniyya will get his younger sibling in July, insya Allah...
2 years since that long, long day I waited in the ante-natal ward in PPUM when it took hours for him to be ready to come out of Ibu's tummy.
I remembered being placed in front of a 1st timer mother-to-be who asked me "Akak tak sakit ke? Nampak akak relaks je" Hah, if only you knew! Maybe she came to that conclusion because I was not moaning aloud and still managed to read a magazine. The truth was, I was in pain, but I concentrated on reciting lots of zikr and sometimes I walked all around the ward to help lessen the pain. The pain did not really go away, this is not a fairy-tale world after all, but at least I got some distraction. The contractions were not that far apart all day long, my back was in deep pain but the opening was slow to grow. It was 1 cm at 9.30 in the morning, 2 cm at 2.30 p.m, 4 cm at 8.00 p.m.
By 9.45 p.m., the opening had grown to 8cm, so I was wheeled down to the labour room at around 10.00 p.m. A doctor helped broke my waterbag, but something didn't feel quite right. I was left alone in the labour room, "Lama lagi kot ni, bukaan tak berapa besar", the doctor said before leaving me. But as it had happened with both Haniyya's elder brother, once the waterbag was broken, it wasn't long before I was ready to give birth. I felt a sudden urge to push, and I knew it was time - but I was alone in the labour room. To make things worse, the bell ringer which was supposed to be placed next to me in case I need to call for assistance was nowhere to be found. I decided to call out in a loud voice.
"Doktor... Doktor..."
No answer.
"Doktor...DOKTORRRR"
I increased my tone by a few decibels
A nurse passing by heard me and walked into the room.
"Ya puan... Oh, puan dah nak bersalin ya? Kejap, saya panggil doktor ya"
A trainee doctor came in but when the two nurses who came with her prompted her to get ready since "hah, dah nampak dah kepala baby tu", she claimed that she had no experience with delivering a baby, so she went to get a 'real doctor' for me. The two nurses immediately started to get ready for a delivery. And it wasn't long before Dr Stephanie stepped in to help delivering the baby.
And then, another senior doctor stepped in. Reading the baby heartbeat monitor, she advised me, "Cepat sikit ye, anak puan dah distressed ni"
Yet at the same time, Dr Stephanie was asking me to "jangan push dulu, sekejap ya puan.. "
I was confused. I was fuddled. I wasn't sure which advice I should heed.
But Haniyya could not wait anymore.
It happened so fast that I overheard Dr Stephanie later described it as a "combustion expulsion" to her colleague.
One push and slussshhhh... he was out.
All 3.75kg of him.
*****
2 years later, Haniyya is still the baby in the family.
When Huzaifah turned 2, Humaidi was already 5 months old.
When Humaidi turned 2, Haniyya was almost 2 months old.
Panjang umur murah rezeki, Haniyya will get his younger sibling in July, insya Allah...
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
The visit
"Do we need to visit daily?"
"If you were a father in the ICU, wouldn't you like your kids to visit you daily when they are all living within reasonable distance to do so?"
After a week, Ummi is still in the ICU. Still depending on the respiratory machine. They took her off the 24/hour dialysis machine and changed it to a 6/hour machine for one day and returned to the 24/hour machine the next day. She's getting better, but not good enough. Still depending on lots of medication to keep her internal organs functioning better. She's off and on the sedative - because at times when she's conscious, she tried to remove IV lines, attached to numerous bags of medicine and fluid.
I've been told that she is more conscious nowaday compared to a week back, but still very, very weak. She may be able to respond to questions by blinking her eyes, moving her head or her hand, but she still could not speak. It's understandable - just seeing all those IV lines, the equipments, the oxygen tube, the wires attached to the EKG monitor, the pulse oximeter on her finger - it is very clear that she's in a lot of pain. Even a healthy person can feel quite overwhelmed by all the monitors and equipments that beep, squeal and make unfamiliar sounds.
It would be very unfeeling for any person to see somebody lying in the ICU and not feel anything.
Nevertheless, at times I ask myself when I visit her- why am I here? What am I doing here? Am I doing it out of duty? Out of responsibility? Am I doing it because I want my children to emulate me some day? That - even when I doubt I'm doing this out of love, somehow I figure this is the 'right' thing to do?
I am still asking myself those questions. I don't know how long she'll remain warded in the ICU. All the nurses and the doctors we asked have been giving the same answer - it's hard to predict how long a patient will be in the ICU. Still, I believe that - even when she remains unconscious whenever I visit her - Ummi would appreciate having her children visiting her everyday...
"If you were a father in the ICU, wouldn't you like your kids to visit you daily when they are all living within reasonable distance to do so?"
After a week, Ummi is still in the ICU. Still depending on the respiratory machine. They took her off the 24/hour dialysis machine and changed it to a 6/hour machine for one day and returned to the 24/hour machine the next day. She's getting better, but not good enough. Still depending on lots of medication to keep her internal organs functioning better. She's off and on the sedative - because at times when she's conscious, she tried to remove IV lines, attached to numerous bags of medicine and fluid.
I've been told that she is more conscious nowaday compared to a week back, but still very, very weak. She may be able to respond to questions by blinking her eyes, moving her head or her hand, but she still could not speak. It's understandable - just seeing all those IV lines, the equipments, the oxygen tube, the wires attached to the EKG monitor, the pulse oximeter on her finger - it is very clear that she's in a lot of pain. Even a healthy person can feel quite overwhelmed by all the monitors and equipments that beep, squeal and make unfamiliar sounds.
It would be very unfeeling for any person to see somebody lying in the ICU and not feel anything.
Nevertheless, at times I ask myself when I visit her- why am I here? What am I doing here? Am I doing it out of duty? Out of responsibility? Am I doing it because I want my children to emulate me some day? That - even when I doubt I'm doing this out of love, somehow I figure this is the 'right' thing to do?
I am still asking myself those questions. I don't know how long she'll remain warded in the ICU. All the nurses and the doctors we asked have been giving the same answer - it's hard to predict how long a patient will be in the ICU. Still, I believe that - even when she remains unconscious whenever I visit her - Ummi would appreciate having her children visiting her everyday...
Friday, December 10, 2010
Please make do'a...
... for my Ummi. She's been in ICU at PPUM since Wednesday. Had internal bleeding earlier on but the bleeding had stopped. She's still on respiratory support and on dialysis 24 hours daily.
Whatever else she is, she's the one who carried me in her tummy for 9 months and gave birth to me at home (not in the hospital) more than 30 years ago... For that, I have always meant both her and my Mak along with Ayah when ever I made do'a for my 'parents'.
And right now I'm making do'a that what ever and which ever way it goes, Allah will make it easy for all of us...
Whatever else she is, she's the one who carried me in her tummy for 9 months and gave birth to me at home (not in the hospital) more than 30 years ago... For that, I have always meant both her and my Mak along with Ayah when ever I made do'a for my 'parents'.
And right now I'm making do'a that what ever and which ever way it goes, Allah will make it easy for all of us...
Friday, December 03, 2010
Roku nen me no kinenbi
~ A wedding anniversary is the celebration of love, trust, partnership, tolerance and tenacity. The order varies for any given year. ~ Paul Sweeney
Alhamdulillah... we've been together for 6 years.
6 years already? Okay, okay, I know it's still in the one digit territory, but when one's own biological parents got their first divorce before she was 2 and their final divorce when she was 8 - staying married for 6 years seem somewhat significant.
To be honest, I'd rather woke up up next to hubby than the three kids sleeping in various positions and parts of our bed on the morning of our anniversary. Sure, I'm glad that I do not have to sleep by myself while he's away, but waking up this morning - with Humaidi lying on my right, Haniyya's hands wrapped on my left leg and Huzaifah's right foot just next to my left ear - I realized that there's nobody besides their father I'd rather be beside. Heh
It goes without saying that we have changed and grown since we got married. We have learnt a lot more from each other but still fumbled with each other thoughts and needs at times. . So yes, there are hiccups here and there. There were moments of weakness when he grumbled that I don't get him and made me wanted to retaliate that he doesn't get me too. There were moments when I cried alone rather than pour out messily and emotionally to him because I had a feeling that he might not understand that I was not blaming him, but just wanted to let off some steam. Yeah, our marriage is still a work-in-progress. After all, the bonds of matrimony usually mature slowly, and we are still only in our 6th year.
I've come to accept that hubby is a non-romantic that would probably never buy me any flower, never dedicate sweet love songs like Maher Zain's "For the rest of my life" to me or send a box of Ferrero Rocher or Reese's Peanut Butter Cup to surprise me at work. But I'll cherish that he was always willing to go for a stroll in a park filled with tulips in spring when we were in Japan, and he once made an effort to sing InTeam's "Doa Seorang Kekasih" (the song played during our cake-cutting ceremony) and he would take some time to do some serious chocolate shopping when we were in Langkawi and Labuan. And I love that he usually doesn't mind changing into another shirt when I suggest we go out in similar-colored outfits.
And I was pleasantly surprised when he suggested for us to go out for an advanced anniversary dinner last Monday. Even more pleased when I was able to fit into the wedding dress I wore 6 years ago and be in it when we were out for dinner. Just as I gloated a bit to him by saying that it was an accomplishment of sort to be able to wear the wedding dress after 6 years and 3 kids, he replied nonchalantly, "you should have made the dress a size or two bigger in the first place. Look at me - I have never had any trouble wearing my wedding attire because they are all quite loose right from the beginning". That practically wiped out the grin from me. Hishh, spoilsport!
So, okay - he may not be perfect. But I've read enough "Di celah-celah kehidupan", "Cik Sri Siantan", "Dang Setia" and what nots to come to appreciate my husband more. He's a decent man who loves his family and works really hard for his family sake. He might have weaknesses here and there. Neither am I without faults. We just have to keep on learning from our mistakes, keep improving and keep working to hone and polish our skills as Muslim spouses and parents. Marriage is after all like a car - it needs maintenance, re-tuning, overhauling and basically takes lot of work to keep it running beautifully.
Happy Anniversary my beloved Abang. I am most blessed to have you in my life (as you are for having me in yours, hehehe). Here's making lots and lots of do'a that Allah will strengthen our bond, bestow us with barakah, guide us to be in the right path at all times and keep us together here and in the hereafter.
Alhamdulillah... we've been together for 6 years.
6 years already? Okay, okay, I know it's still in the one digit territory, but when one's own biological parents got their first divorce before she was 2 and their final divorce when she was 8 - staying married for 6 years seem somewhat significant.
To be honest, I'd rather woke up up next to hubby than the three kids sleeping in various positions and parts of our bed on the morning of our anniversary. Sure, I'm glad that I do not have to sleep by myself while he's away, but waking up this morning - with Humaidi lying on my right, Haniyya's hands wrapped on my left leg and Huzaifah's right foot just next to my left ear - I realized that there's nobody besides their father I'd rather be beside. Heh
It goes without saying that we have changed and grown since we got married. We have learnt a lot more from each other but still fumbled with each other thoughts and needs at times. . So yes, there are hiccups here and there. There were moments of weakness when he grumbled that I don't get him and made me wanted to retaliate that he doesn't get me too. There were moments when I cried alone rather than pour out messily and emotionally to him because I had a feeling that he might not understand that I was not blaming him, but just wanted to let off some steam. Yeah, our marriage is still a work-in-progress. After all, the bonds of matrimony usually mature slowly, and we are still only in our 6th year.
I've come to accept that hubby is a non-romantic that would probably never buy me any flower, never dedicate sweet love songs like Maher Zain's "For the rest of my life" to me or send a box of Ferrero Rocher or Reese's Peanut Butter Cup to surprise me at work. But I'll cherish that he was always willing to go for a stroll in a park filled with tulips in spring when we were in Japan, and he once made an effort to sing InTeam's "Doa Seorang Kekasih" (the song played during our cake-cutting ceremony) and he would take some time to do some serious chocolate shopping when we were in Langkawi and Labuan. And I love that he usually doesn't mind changing into another shirt when I suggest we go out in similar-colored outfits.
And I was pleasantly surprised when he suggested for us to go out for an advanced anniversary dinner last Monday. Even more pleased when I was able to fit into the wedding dress I wore 6 years ago and be in it when we were out for dinner. Just as I gloated a bit to him by saying that it was an accomplishment of sort to be able to wear the wedding dress after 6 years and 3 kids, he replied nonchalantly, "you should have made the dress a size or two bigger in the first place. Look at me - I have never had any trouble wearing my wedding attire because they are all quite loose right from the beginning". That practically wiped out the grin from me. Hishh, spoilsport!
So, okay - he may not be perfect. But I've read enough "Di celah-celah kehidupan", "Cik Sri Siantan", "Dang Setia" and what nots to come to appreciate my husband more. He's a decent man who loves his family and works really hard for his family sake. He might have weaknesses here and there. Neither am I without faults. We just have to keep on learning from our mistakes, keep improving and keep working to hone and polish our skills as Muslim spouses and parents. Marriage is after all like a car - it needs maintenance, re-tuning, overhauling and basically takes lot of work to keep it running beautifully.
Happy Anniversary my beloved Abang. I am most blessed to have you in my life (as you are for having me in yours, hehehe). Here's making lots and lots of do'a that Allah will strengthen our bond, bestow us with barakah, guide us to be in the right path at all times and keep us together here and in the hereafter.
Our first solat together as husband and wife - Solat sunat nikah right after the nikah ceremony
Obligatory first-kiss-on-the-forehead pose
With my late Tok
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Raise your hand. Stop child abuse
Did you know that an average of 7 children in Malaysia suffered abuse every day in 2008, and these were only the reported cases?
Many more experience abuse in silence and behind closed doors. Like all children, they too have a right to a happy childhood, free of abuse. Abuse robs a child of their health, development and dignity. It can also leave invisible scars on children, their families and society that last lifetimes, if not generations.
UNICEF has started a nationwide movement called "Get on Board" to provide the public with the information, insight and resources to stop child abuse. This knowledge will empower everyone to protect the children in our families and communities. Let us show our children that at least a 100,000 of us care. The more people who raise their hand to be counted, the stronger the campaign becomes to deter an abuser from hurting a child.
So, come on, let's "Get on Board" now
Join YouthSays
Many more experience abuse in silence and behind closed doors. Like all children, they too have a right to a happy childhood, free of abuse. Abuse robs a child of their health, development and dignity. It can also leave invisible scars on children, their families and society that last lifetimes, if not generations.
UNICEF has started a nationwide movement called "Get on Board" to provide the public with the information, insight and resources to stop child abuse. This knowledge will empower everyone to protect the children in our families and communities. Let us show our children that at least a 100,000 of us care. The more people who raise their hand to be counted, the stronger the campaign becomes to deter an abuser from hurting a child.
So, come on, let's "Get on Board" now
Join YouthSays
More than 6 years ago...
On the day of our engagement (never been published in this blog before)
Him
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
Don't speak unless you are spoken to - Part 3
So there he was, with Ustaz Asyraf, dressed quite smartly in a green Raihan-style shirt.
And I'd chosen to wear a plain pair of brown baju kurung.
I knew Mak wanted me to wear something nicer, but somehow it wouldn't seem quite right for me to go upstairs and change into the yellow-and-purple baju kurung only after the guests had already arrived. Ahh, so be it.
My first quick take of the 'special guest'?
He seemed awfully shy, as he entered the house behind Ustaz Asyraf, almost as if he wanted to be shielded by Ustaz Asyraf.
Looks? Ok lah
Height? Taller than me. Ok lah.
Overall appearance? Ok lah.
No butterflies in the tummy. No double flip-flop of the heart.
I had no idea then that I was meeting the man who was going to be my husband and the father of my children for the very first time that night.
Nothing to ponder much upon a quick glance - I reminded myself that he's just Ayah's guest, no big deal. Besides, I had to get ready to start serving dinner.
So dinner was served - for the guests from Seremban, Ayah and my younger brother Abang. I was told that Ustaz Amin tried out all the lauk, but did not have a second helping. (Much later on I found out that he had already eaten at Restoran Syed in SS3 prior to visiting us). Seemed like they had quite an animated discussion during dinner - ranging from war in the Middle East to kelebihan selawat and Islamic education in Malaysia. No, Ayah did not ask any personal questions. None on his job, his family, his likes or what his future plans are.
Me - I was playing Cinderella - the one who served dinner, clean up and served coffee after dinner. Ayah laid out a rule prior to the visit - 'don't speak unless you are spoken to'. I said 'okay' (while the answer in my head was more like "duh, what ever...")
But I broke the golden rule. Unintentionally actually.
After dinner was over, they moved to the living area and sat on the sofa. I brought out the cut fruits and trifle. Then, I asked Ayah, "nak buat air apa?" Ayah checked with Ustaz Asyraf, who requested for Nescafe. Then Ayah asked Ustaz Amin. His first response was "Kopi", quickly followed by "err, apa-apa jelah"
I seeked for clarification once again - "Kopi ke Nescafe?", to which he replied "Apa-apa jelah".
I made both. He chose Kopi.
But boy oh boy - I got a bitter scolding from Ayah later that night, all because of that one simple question.
The guests left at about 10 p.m.. It was school night after all, and Ustaz Amin had to teach the next day.
It was after the guests had left that Ayah scolded me
"Remember, you were not supposed to speak to him unless you are spoken to!"
"But it's not like I asked him anything personal - I was just seeking clarification...'Kopi ke Nescafe?' Just one single line. Surely it could not cause any harm?"
"You asked him directly in front of me. He might be intimidated by that, thinking that you are such a bold and forward person. No wonder you are still not married as you near 30, because you are a forward girl"
Ouch! Bold and forward, huh? All because of a simple, innocent clarification query???
Mak interrupted. "Kak, I know under any normal circumstances, you did no wrong. I know you have been trained to get detailed answer and that's why you can't help but seeked clarification. But that wasn't any normal occurrence. We don't know what kind of person we were dealing with and we don't know what his expectations are, so it's better to minimise risks by laying the simple rule of you not speaking unless you are spoken to. And you broke the rule."
Good thing was - 'the rule' was made by my parents. The same 'logic' did not apply to the 'special' guest - he had no problem at all with that question. In fact, a few days later, Ustaz Amin pestered Ustaz Asyraf to let Ayah know that his istikharah is positive and would like to know what's the result of istikharah on our side. Much later I found out that he had already performed istikharah before his visit to Kampung Tunku and had gotten a positive sign. He said that when he first saw me in person, he was even more convinced that we were meant to be together.
(Someone please pinch me already - how 1950s can this story get? Hehehe)
So there - the story of how we first met.
His first visit to our house was on August 19th, 2004.
We were engaged on September 19th, 2004.
And married on December 3rd, 2004.
Alhamdulillah.
And I'd chosen to wear a plain pair of brown baju kurung.
I knew Mak wanted me to wear something nicer, but somehow it wouldn't seem quite right for me to go upstairs and change into the yellow-and-purple baju kurung only after the guests had already arrived. Ahh, so be it.
My first quick take of the 'special guest'?
He seemed awfully shy, as he entered the house behind Ustaz Asyraf, almost as if he wanted to be shielded by Ustaz Asyraf.
Looks? Ok lah
Height? Taller than me. Ok lah.
Overall appearance? Ok lah.
No butterflies in the tummy. No double flip-flop of the heart.
I had no idea then that I was meeting the man who was going to be my husband and the father of my children for the very first time that night.
Nothing to ponder much upon a quick glance - I reminded myself that he's just Ayah's guest, no big deal. Besides, I had to get ready to start serving dinner.
So dinner was served - for the guests from Seremban, Ayah and my younger brother Abang. I was told that Ustaz Amin tried out all the lauk, but did not have a second helping. (Much later on I found out that he had already eaten at Restoran Syed in SS3 prior to visiting us). Seemed like they had quite an animated discussion during dinner - ranging from war in the Middle East to kelebihan selawat and Islamic education in Malaysia. No, Ayah did not ask any personal questions. None on his job, his family, his likes or what his future plans are.
Me - I was playing Cinderella - the one who served dinner, clean up and served coffee after dinner. Ayah laid out a rule prior to the visit - 'don't speak unless you are spoken to'. I said 'okay' (while the answer in my head was more like "duh, what ever...")
But I broke the golden rule. Unintentionally actually.
After dinner was over, they moved to the living area and sat on the sofa. I brought out the cut fruits and trifle. Then, I asked Ayah, "nak buat air apa?" Ayah checked with Ustaz Asyraf, who requested for Nescafe. Then Ayah asked Ustaz Amin. His first response was "Kopi", quickly followed by "err, apa-apa jelah"
I seeked for clarification once again - "Kopi ke Nescafe?", to which he replied "Apa-apa jelah".
I made both. He chose Kopi.
But boy oh boy - I got a bitter scolding from Ayah later that night, all because of that one simple question.
The guests left at about 10 p.m.. It was school night after all, and Ustaz Amin had to teach the next day.
It was after the guests had left that Ayah scolded me
"Remember, you were not supposed to speak to him unless you are spoken to!"
"But it's not like I asked him anything personal - I was just seeking clarification...'Kopi ke Nescafe?' Just one single line. Surely it could not cause any harm?"
"You asked him directly in front of me. He might be intimidated by that, thinking that you are such a bold and forward person. No wonder you are still not married as you near 30, because you are a forward girl"
Ouch! Bold and forward, huh? All because of a simple, innocent clarification query???
Mak interrupted. "Kak, I know under any normal circumstances, you did no wrong. I know you have been trained to get detailed answer and that's why you can't help but seeked clarification. But that wasn't any normal occurrence. We don't know what kind of person we were dealing with and we don't know what his expectations are, so it's better to minimise risks by laying the simple rule of you not speaking unless you are spoken to. And you broke the rule."
Good thing was - 'the rule' was made by my parents. The same 'logic' did not apply to the 'special' guest - he had no problem at all with that question. In fact, a few days later, Ustaz Amin pestered Ustaz Asyraf to let Ayah know that his istikharah is positive and would like to know what's the result of istikharah on our side. Much later I found out that he had already performed istikharah before his visit to Kampung Tunku and had gotten a positive sign. He said that when he first saw me in person, he was even more convinced that we were meant to be together.
(Someone please pinch me already - how 1950s can this story get? Hehehe)
So there - the story of how we first met.
His first visit to our house was on August 19th, 2004.
We were engaged on September 19th, 2004.
And married on December 3rd, 2004.
Alhamdulillah.
Don't speak unless you are spoken to - Part 2
Thursday came and I took the day off.
Since our guest is someone from Negeri Sembilan, I thought it would be okay to cook something spicy. No, not masak lemak cili api - I had a feeling that my version might not stand up to the original Negeri Sembilan version. Thus, sambal tumis udang was one of the dishes I prepared.
What if he's allergic to seafood? Hence I prepared some stir-fried beef marinated in black pepper with green peas, a dish my late Tok called 'bistik' (probably derived from beef steak).
Made some sayur campur too and trifle for dessert. Mak thought that it was not enough, so she cooked fish curry and ayam goreng berempah. Yeah, for a family which is used to having one or two lauk and one sayur dish, a 5-course dinner was quite memorable.
Mak was unhappy with the worn out place mats though and asked me to go and buy new ones. I was quite surprised because to me the place mats looked presentable enough.
"Just go and get new ones. Tetamu kenalah diraikan," Mak said when I tried to protest, since I really didn't feel like going out what with it nearing the end of office hour and I might got stuck in jam - all due to insignificant place mats.
It went without saying that Mak got her way. I went to Section 14, hoping to get decent but not too pricey place mats. I got them at Metrojaya during a non-Sale period, so it went without saying that the blue checked cloth place mats were quite pricey. And yes, the traffic was slow by the time I made it back home.
By maghrib - we were all ready. The table all set. The fruit cut, the cooked food ready to be warmed and to be served.
Not sure what to wear, I finally put on a demure brown baju kurung, my everyday outfit that's exclusively home-worn. Mak asked me to put on a pair of yellow and purple floral baju kurung - one of my office outfits - but I didn't want to be seen overdressed for someone who's been working hard in the kitchen. Besides, I thought wearing silky striking yellow baju kurung matched with purple tudung might not give the best first impression to an ustaz.
I told myself that he's coming to have dinner with Ayah, thus deserved no more special treatment than I would accord Ayah's other guests. Since he was Ayah's guest, I should not worry too much about looking nice, right? I wanted to be normal and I felt really comfortable wearing that brown baju kurung, notwithstanding that it was a hand-me-down pair (from Mak).
On the other hand, I purposely wore a tudung tiga segi and not tudung labuh - a personal test of sort to see whether this Ustaz was flexible enough to approve of girls wearing tudung tiga segi in their own home.
The guests arrived after Isyak. He wore a shiny satin-like green Raihan-style shirt.
Mak casted a quick glance at me with a look that said, "Look, look - he's making an effort to look nice and you are not. I told you to wear that yellow baju..."
- to be continued -
Since our guest is someone from Negeri Sembilan, I thought it would be okay to cook something spicy. No, not masak lemak cili api - I had a feeling that my version might not stand up to the original Negeri Sembilan version. Thus, sambal tumis udang was one of the dishes I prepared.
What if he's allergic to seafood? Hence I prepared some stir-fried beef marinated in black pepper with green peas, a dish my late Tok called 'bistik' (probably derived from beef steak).
Made some sayur campur too and trifle for dessert. Mak thought that it was not enough, so she cooked fish curry and ayam goreng berempah. Yeah, for a family which is used to having one or two lauk and one sayur dish, a 5-course dinner was quite memorable.
Mak was unhappy with the worn out place mats though and asked me to go and buy new ones. I was quite surprised because to me the place mats looked presentable enough.
"Just go and get new ones. Tetamu kenalah diraikan," Mak said when I tried to protest, since I really didn't feel like going out what with it nearing the end of office hour and I might got stuck in jam - all due to insignificant place mats.
It went without saying that Mak got her way. I went to Section 14, hoping to get decent but not too pricey place mats. I got them at Metrojaya during a non-Sale period, so it went without saying that the blue checked cloth place mats were quite pricey. And yes, the traffic was slow by the time I made it back home.
By maghrib - we were all ready. The table all set. The fruit cut, the cooked food ready to be warmed and to be served.
Not sure what to wear, I finally put on a demure brown baju kurung, my everyday outfit that's exclusively home-worn. Mak asked me to put on a pair of yellow and purple floral baju kurung - one of my office outfits - but I didn't want to be seen overdressed for someone who's been working hard in the kitchen. Besides, I thought wearing silky striking yellow baju kurung matched with purple tudung might not give the best first impression to an ustaz.
I told myself that he's coming to have dinner with Ayah, thus deserved no more special treatment than I would accord Ayah's other guests. Since he was Ayah's guest, I should not worry too much about looking nice, right? I wanted to be normal and I felt really comfortable wearing that brown baju kurung, notwithstanding that it was a hand-me-down pair (from Mak).
On the other hand, I purposely wore a tudung tiga segi and not tudung labuh - a personal test of sort to see whether this Ustaz was flexible enough to approve of girls wearing tudung tiga segi in their own home.
The guests arrived after Isyak. He wore a shiny satin-like green Raihan-style shirt.
Mak casted a quick glance at me with a look that said, "Look, look - he's making an effort to look nice and you are not. I told you to wear that yellow baju..."
- to be continued -
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Don't speak unless you are spoken to
* Please pardon me for indulging in some 'down the memory lane' stories this week. Our wedding anniversary is coming up this Friday but hubby had gone for a 6-day trip in Thailand. It's almost a custom for us to 'explore' a new place of interest during our anniversary, but this year he's gone on the Bangkok-Chiang Rai- Chiang Mai trip with his parents because I don't have any leave to spare and have just started working in a new place. I hope hubby will have a good time in Thailand - I've been to Bangkok several times and had a blast in Chiang Rai (Anira, do you still remember the good old days? Hehehe). Now, if my memory served me well, I think one of the first photos he'd seen of me was taken in Chiang Rai. It would be nice if I could 'guide' him around Chiang Rai just like he 'guided' me around Kuching last year (he'd been to Kuching before, but that was my first time). Maybe some day we'll get to play 'tourist guide' to each other in other places, insya Allah.
But first, let me share the story of how we first met...
#####
Ayah called me at work one Tuesday morning. (I remember it was Tuesday because Mak and Ayah used to have their weekly mengaji session with Ustaz Asyraf on Tuesdays.)
"Kak, hari Khamis ni balik rumah awal sikit. Ada hal"
"Hah? Kenapa? Ada apa?"
"Ada orang nak jumpa"
"Hah?"
"Laa, yang bagi gambar tu lah. Kak dah tengok belum gambar tu?"
"Dah"
"Macamana? Ok tak?"
"Ok apa, nama pun Kak tak tau..."
"Nama dia Amin"
"Ooo"
"Jangan lupa, Khamis ni balik awal..."
I took a day off that Thursday. Apparently Mak and Ayah had invited this 'Ustaz Amin' over for dinner with Ustaz Asyraf, 'the introducer' on Thursday night. Mak asked me to cook some dishes.
When I first heard of the arrangement, I almost freaked out. My first thought was - "this is WEIRD". I mean seriously, do people still 'berkenalan' through arranged meeting by the parents in the new millenium? I almost had a flash of a scene a'la P.Ramlee's 'Pendekar Bujang Lapuk' - the guy chatting with both my parents and Mak would excuse herself, "duduklah dulu nak ye, nanti makcik buatkan kopi..." And Mak would ask me to serve the coffee and all... Ha ha, yes, something like a scene from life in the 1950s.
I'd never met this guy - virtually or otherwise. No sms, no email, no chat, no call. All I knew was when I was away in Kelantan, acting as my best friend's bridesmaid, Mak and Ayah had given 4 photos of me to Ustaz Asyraf in exchange of 2 photos of Ustaz Asyraf's friend who is 'age appropriate' to be introduced to me with view towards matrimony. It turned out that this friend of Ustaz Asyraf's also happened to be the nephew of Ustaz Farid - a family friend who once had given away a house to help Ayah paid his debts to a bank and since then had always been deemed in the highest esteem in our family.
So yes, thanks to the photos, I had an idea of how this 'Ustaz Amin' looked like. I knew his age - 31. I knew that he got both his bachelor and master degree from Al-Azhar University in Egypt. I knew that he almost got engaged once but it didn't happen. But I had no idea of him as a person. Is he warm or cool? Is he shy or outgoing? I had no idea of his taste, of his likes or dislikes.
I had no idea what to cook or what to wear or how to present myself on that fateful Thursday night...
- to be continued -
But first, let me share the story of how we first met...
#####
Ayah called me at work one Tuesday morning. (I remember it was Tuesday because Mak and Ayah used to have their weekly mengaji session with Ustaz Asyraf on Tuesdays.)
"Kak, hari Khamis ni balik rumah awal sikit. Ada hal"
"Hah? Kenapa? Ada apa?"
"Ada orang nak jumpa"
"Hah?"
"Laa, yang bagi gambar tu lah. Kak dah tengok belum gambar tu?"
"Dah"
"Macamana? Ok tak?"
"Ok apa, nama pun Kak tak tau..."
"Nama dia Amin"
"Ooo"
"Jangan lupa, Khamis ni balik awal..."
I took a day off that Thursday. Apparently Mak and Ayah had invited this 'Ustaz Amin' over for dinner with Ustaz Asyraf, 'the introducer' on Thursday night. Mak asked me to cook some dishes.
When I first heard of the arrangement, I almost freaked out. My first thought was - "this is WEIRD". I mean seriously, do people still 'berkenalan' through arranged meeting by the parents in the new millenium? I almost had a flash of a scene a'la P.Ramlee's 'Pendekar Bujang Lapuk' - the guy chatting with both my parents and Mak would excuse herself, "duduklah dulu nak ye, nanti makcik buatkan kopi..." And Mak would ask me to serve the coffee and all... Ha ha, yes, something like a scene from life in the 1950s.
I'd never met this guy - virtually or otherwise. No sms, no email, no chat, no call. All I knew was when I was away in Kelantan, acting as my best friend's bridesmaid, Mak and Ayah had given 4 photos of me to Ustaz Asyraf in exchange of 2 photos of Ustaz Asyraf's friend who is 'age appropriate' to be introduced to me with view towards matrimony. It turned out that this friend of Ustaz Asyraf's also happened to be the nephew of Ustaz Farid - a family friend who once had given away a house to help Ayah paid his debts to a bank and since then had always been deemed in the highest esteem in our family.
So yes, thanks to the photos, I had an idea of how this 'Ustaz Amin' looked like. I knew his age - 31. I knew that he got both his bachelor and master degree from Al-Azhar University in Egypt. I knew that he almost got engaged once but it didn't happen. But I had no idea of him as a person. Is he warm or cool? Is he shy or outgoing? I had no idea of his taste, of his likes or dislikes.
I had no idea what to cook or what to wear or how to present myself on that fateful Thursday night...
- to be continued -
Monday, November 29, 2010
Tok sah nak mengarut nak kahwin dengan orang Jepun
Back in 2004, I sometimes used to tease my late grandmother, Tok.
"I'm going to Japan, Tok. I'm going to marry a Japanese and then we'll go to Japan."
"Haish, tok sah nak mengarut nak kahwin dengan orang Jepun kapir..."
"Being Japanese does not necessarily means they are non Muslim. I'm going to marry a Muslim Japanese."
"Orang Jepun pun ada yang Islam ka?"
"Of course! I'm going to marry Mohammado Amino Nakasone..."
"Hish, aku tak suka anak cucu aku kahwin orang Jepun kapir..."
"No, I'm not going to marry a non-Muslim lah Tok. Not all Japanese are non-Muslims. He's a Muslim. His name is Amino Nakasone..."
And it would go on and on.
Tok would pucker her lips in distaste, her face all crumpled and it was kind of fun to tease just to see her reaction.
Anyway, it wouldn't be difficult to guess why Tok had a thing against Japanese, as she was there to experience the harsh and brutal living condition during Japanese occupation of Malaya in the 1940s.
Still, despite having alzheimer's disease, long after the occupation was over, Tok could still sing the 'song of submission' that the children of her time had to sing for the Japanese army.
"Miyoto kaino suru akite
yokodi kotakoku kagaya kiba
ten shino shi hatsura koto
kiba uwa odorou oyashima"
(note: I'm not exactly sure of the actual lyric, but the verses above are more or less how it sounded to us)
Tok almost always sang "Miyoto kaino" in full spirit, complete with her hand waving in the air like a conductor. It was kind of contradiction really - for somebody who abhorred to be associated with Japanese to sing the song of submission with such passion.
Anyway, on the day we got married, I grinned sheepishly as I introduced "Amino Nakasone" to Tok.
Tok's immediate response?
"Hang tok sah nak mengarut nak kahwin dengan orang Jepun..."
Ha ha.
"I'm going to Japan, Tok. I'm going to marry a Japanese and then we'll go to Japan."
"Haish, tok sah nak mengarut nak kahwin dengan orang Jepun kapir..."
"Being Japanese does not necessarily means they are non Muslim. I'm going to marry a Muslim Japanese."
"Orang Jepun pun ada yang Islam ka?"
"Of course! I'm going to marry Mohammado Amino Nakasone..."
"Hish, aku tak suka anak cucu aku kahwin orang Jepun kapir..."
"No, I'm not going to marry a non-Muslim lah Tok. Not all Japanese are non-Muslims. He's a Muslim. His name is Amino Nakasone..."
And it would go on and on.
Tok would pucker her lips in distaste, her face all crumpled and it was kind of fun to tease just to see her reaction.
Anyway, it wouldn't be difficult to guess why Tok had a thing against Japanese, as she was there to experience the harsh and brutal living condition during Japanese occupation of Malaya in the 1940s.
Still, despite having alzheimer's disease, long after the occupation was over, Tok could still sing the 'song of submission' that the children of her time had to sing for the Japanese army.
"Miyoto kaino suru akite
yokodi kotakoku kagaya kiba
ten shino shi hatsura koto
kiba uwa odorou oyashima"
(note: I'm not exactly sure of the actual lyric, but the verses above are more or less how it sounded to us)
Tok almost always sang "Miyoto kaino" in full spirit, complete with her hand waving in the air like a conductor. It was kind of contradiction really - for somebody who abhorred to be associated with Japanese to sing the song of submission with such passion.
Anyway, on the day we got married, I grinned sheepishly as I introduced "Amino Nakasone" to Tok.
Tok's immediate response?
"Hang tok sah nak mengarut nak kahwin dengan orang Jepun..."
Ha ha.
I miss...
(in no particular order)
- Cold Stone Creamery
- Kodomo no Kuni (a recent trip to Critterland brought back lots of memories from the Children Land)
- unpretentious Uniqlo stores (located anywhere from pekan koboi to Ginza)
- great customer service
- fresh sushi, especially halal Unagi sushi (apparently unagi is non-halal in Sushi King)
- Calpis
- vending machines everywhere, and with lots of non-carbonated drinks options
- everything Anpanman (I almost couldn't believe it when Humaidi went "Ang.. Ang... Angpangmang..." the other day - must be triggered by seeing Huzaifah's old Anpanman toothbrush we found recently)
- extra courtesy reserved for pregnant mothers and mothers with small children
- Momiji
Yeah, I know.
I miss Japan.
- Cold Stone Creamery
- Kodomo no Kuni (a recent trip to Critterland brought back lots of memories from the Children Land)
- unpretentious Uniqlo stores (located anywhere from pekan koboi to Ginza)
- great customer service
- fresh sushi, especially halal Unagi sushi (apparently unagi is non-halal in Sushi King)
- Calpis
- vending machines everywhere, and with lots of non-carbonated drinks options
- everything Anpanman (I almost couldn't believe it when Humaidi went "Ang.. Ang... Angpangmang..." the other day - must be triggered by seeing Huzaifah's old Anpanman toothbrush we found recently)
- extra courtesy reserved for pregnant mothers and mothers with small children
- Momiji
Yeah, I know.
I miss Japan.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Back again
Honestly, to re-blog after so long is not an easy thing to do.
There are so many things I've thought of sharing, but somehow I didn't know how.
I'm back at work now, so maybe being away from the children and back with more adult might help.
Better, I'm now in a new place in which I can blog, no longer in the office where not only Blogspot but even Gmail and Yahoo mail were blocked.
3 months of being a SAHM went by almost unnoticed. Okay, not exactly unnoticed. For one, I now am a firm believer that the best way to find energy to cope with three boisterous boys is to be a SAHM. No kidding. And along the way, I've lost some weight too (some of which unfortunately had been regained once I started having a helper again about a month ago).
I've grown accustomed to having Haniyya looking for me first thing in the morning. My absence would cause him to wail "Ayah.... Abu....". And Humaidi too would greet me with a still-heavy-lidded-almost-unopened-eyes-grin as he asked "Ibu, nak kopi". No, he's not asking for his morning coffee. By 'kopi', he's referring to chocolate flavored milk. When Huzaifah and Humaidi started showing their preference for chocolate flavored milk, rather than plain milk, they referred to the chocolate milk as 'kopi'. Probably to differentiate it from the white plain milk. Huzaifah now call it 'susu coklat', but Humaidi still call it 'kopi', despite my numerous attempts to correct it.
As for Huzaifah - he could simulatenously be a darling and a little devil. One of the tasks I enjoyed most was taking the laundry from the ampaian. I would ask Huzaifah to help me and he would insist on taking all the children-sized garments, "Yang besar, Ibu punya. Yang kecik, Ujai punya. Ibu jangan ambik yang Ujai punya, ok?"
Yet, at times he could really drive his father and me nuts by pulling a vanishing act in public area. We had to search for him all over Mines Shopping Mall in two separate occassions - both finding him at kiosk selling toys but in different parts of the mall. He watches "Lou and Lou: Safety Patrol" on Playhouse Disney, so I sternly reminded him from time to time that he has to be with an adult all the time when we go out as wandering by himself is a 'safety violation' (my brother Amirul said 'safety violation' is a big word for a kid, but thanks to Playhouse Disney, Huzaifah knows what it means). Unfortunately, Huzaifah sometimes is too fidgety to stay in a place for long. So I guess we still have a long way to go before he could be really disciplined on this. Any tips anybody?
Anyway, one of things that almost never fail to make me smile is how freely Huzaifah gives hugs and saying "I love you, Ibu". Be it for buying him the long-awaited Thomas the Tank Engine set, or taking him out for a play time at Critterland or simply preparing a toast spread with margarine and sugar.
The other day, when I returned home from work, after all the salam and excited greetings of "Ibu dah balik", I relaxed on the sofa. The boys almost immediately reached out for stuff I discarded on the table - Huzaifah put on the tudung, Haniyya the serkup, Humaidi the socks. Something tugged inside. I miss the boys at work - not feeding them at lunch, not having Huzaifah asking "Ibu tengok apa tu? Ujai nak Thomas/Oso/etc..." while I browse the Internet. I supposed seeing them putting on my stuff was visible proof that they missed me too.
Oh, but if there's one thing I don't mind about going back-to-the-office - is the chance to perform my Zohor and Asar solat in peace, without having anybody climbing on my back, or trying to get into my telekung, or pulling on my kain while I pray. Heh.
There are so many things I've thought of sharing, but somehow I didn't know how.
I'm back at work now, so maybe being away from the children and back with more adult might help.
Better, I'm now in a new place in which I can blog, no longer in the office where not only Blogspot but even Gmail and Yahoo mail were blocked.
3 months of being a SAHM went by almost unnoticed. Okay, not exactly unnoticed. For one, I now am a firm believer that the best way to find energy to cope with three boisterous boys is to be a SAHM. No kidding. And along the way, I've lost some weight too (some of which unfortunately had been regained once I started having a helper again about a month ago).
I've grown accustomed to having Haniyya looking for me first thing in the morning. My absence would cause him to wail "Ayah.... Abu....". And Humaidi too would greet me with a still-heavy-lidded-almost-unopened-eyes-grin as he asked "Ibu, nak kopi". No, he's not asking for his morning coffee. By 'kopi', he's referring to chocolate flavored milk. When Huzaifah and Humaidi started showing their preference for chocolate flavored milk, rather than plain milk, they referred to the chocolate milk as 'kopi'. Probably to differentiate it from the white plain milk. Huzaifah now call it 'susu coklat', but Humaidi still call it 'kopi', despite my numerous attempts to correct it.
As for Huzaifah - he could simulatenously be a darling and a little devil. One of the tasks I enjoyed most was taking the laundry from the ampaian. I would ask Huzaifah to help me and he would insist on taking all the children-sized garments, "Yang besar, Ibu punya. Yang kecik, Ujai punya. Ibu jangan ambik yang Ujai punya, ok?"
Yet, at times he could really drive his father and me nuts by pulling a vanishing act in public area. We had to search for him all over Mines Shopping Mall in two separate occassions - both finding him at kiosk selling toys but in different parts of the mall. He watches "Lou and Lou: Safety Patrol" on Playhouse Disney, so I sternly reminded him from time to time that he has to be with an adult all the time when we go out as wandering by himself is a 'safety violation' (my brother Amirul said 'safety violation' is a big word for a kid, but thanks to Playhouse Disney, Huzaifah knows what it means). Unfortunately, Huzaifah sometimes is too fidgety to stay in a place for long. So I guess we still have a long way to go before he could be really disciplined on this. Any tips anybody?
Anyway, one of things that almost never fail to make me smile is how freely Huzaifah gives hugs and saying "I love you, Ibu". Be it for buying him the long-awaited Thomas the Tank Engine set, or taking him out for a play time at Critterland or simply preparing a toast spread with margarine and sugar.
The other day, when I returned home from work, after all the salam and excited greetings of "Ibu dah balik", I relaxed on the sofa. The boys almost immediately reached out for stuff I discarded on the table - Huzaifah put on the tudung, Haniyya the serkup, Humaidi the socks. Something tugged inside. I miss the boys at work - not feeding them at lunch, not having Huzaifah asking "Ibu tengok apa tu? Ujai nak Thomas/Oso/etc..." while I browse the Internet. I supposed seeing them putting on my stuff was visible proof that they missed me too.
Oh, but if there's one thing I don't mind about going back-to-the-office - is the chance to perform my Zohor and Asar solat in peace, without having anybody climbing on my back, or trying to get into my telekung, or pulling on my kain while I pray. Heh.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Long time no here
Ramadhan kareem to all Muslim readers - not too late to wish 'selamat berpesta ibadah', I hope, especially since we are encouraged to increase it during the last 10 nights...
It's been so long that it feels almost awkward to start blogging again, In the past two months or so, lots of stuff had happened - some good, some not so great. Let's see...
Hubby and I have been to Bandung and Jakarta in June;
I was confirmed to be pregnant in June;
Hubby and I experienced a kenduri (and a reunion with our almost-brother, Faizly) in Labuan in July;
Our bibik quitted in July;
Mak always said that we could not find anyone worse than our previous lazy bibik, but we did.
Akif went 'missing' on day 2 of the replacement bibik, and our neighbour reported that she beat our kids using the broom on day 3 - so we sent her back to the agent that very same night.
Got an almost sister-in-law in the last Sunday of July;
Got a new sister-in-law in the first Sunday of August (yup, my youngest brother was engaged for only a week);
PV spotting started on the day following youngest brother's wedding. The doctor advised me to rest more because baby seemed to be smaller than expected (almost 11 weeks, but baby seemed to be 8 weeks old);
Too stressed out - both at office and at home, so wrote a letter to Numero Uno in the agency, asking for unpaid leave on August 3rd;
PV bleeding started on August 4th. The gynae did a scan. No fetal heart seen. The doctor told me that bleeding with fresh blood an indication of spontaneous abortion about to happen and gave me an appointment on the 16th;
Miscarriage happened at almost 1.00 p.m. at home on August 5th. Incomplete miscarriage. Kit and Fa-ah rushed from the office to get some lunch for me and the boys as well as sent me to the hospital (Thanks a million dear). The sac was left in the uterus. A&E doctor gave me MC for 5 days and asked me to stick to my August 16th appointment with the gynae;
Rested for a few days in Kampung Tunku before Mak and Ayah left for Saudi to perform their umrah during Ramadhan;
My neighbour Kak Ma who is a doctor advised me to go for another scan as quickly as possible and not to wait for my August 16th appointment. Kit supported this notion. So went back to the hospital for another check-up on August 10th (1st Ramadhan night);
Went to the A&E first. Abdominal ultrasound scan was not so good, so was referred to labour room. Gynae did a pelvic ultrasound scan and confirmed that my uterus did not look so great - larger than normal, with an opening of 1cm. The doctor ordered me to be hospitalised right away, to start fasting beginning from midnight as D&C was scheduled for the next day. A more junior doctor came to take some sample blood and a nurse gave me an injection to stop the bleeding so as to make it easier to perform the D&C;
I asked to be discharged on own risk (had to sign a letter and all) and promised to return to the hospital the next day. Was asked to go the OB/Gyn clinic at 9.00 a.m. Started packing my stuff and the kids stuff as soon as I reached home and asked my aunt to help looking after the children while I was away;
Drank lots of Bio-disc energized water and did hours of shining the LED torchlight through the Bio-disc onto my pelvic area while reciting lots of zikr and making lots and lots of doa. It was the first night of Ramadhan and I prayed hard for a miracle to happen;
The best 1st Ramadhan surprise ever - the scheduled D&C was deemed unnecessary after the gynae did yet another pelvic ultrasound scan on me. (A small miracle of sort for me since I'm really, really frightened of going inside the Operation Theatre even for a minor D&C thingy. Alhamdulillah...
It's been so long that it feels almost awkward to start blogging again, In the past two months or so, lots of stuff had happened - some good, some not so great. Let's see...
Hubby and I have been to Bandung and Jakarta in June;
I was confirmed to be pregnant in June;
Hubby and I experienced a kenduri (and a reunion with our almost-brother, Faizly) in Labuan in July;
Our bibik quitted in July;
Mak always said that we could not find anyone worse than our previous lazy bibik, but we did.
Akif went 'missing' on day 2 of the replacement bibik, and our neighbour reported that she beat our kids using the broom on day 3 - so we sent her back to the agent that very same night.
Got an almost sister-in-law in the last Sunday of July;
Got a new sister-in-law in the first Sunday of August (yup, my youngest brother was engaged for only a week);
PV spotting started on the day following youngest brother's wedding. The doctor advised me to rest more because baby seemed to be smaller than expected (almost 11 weeks, but baby seemed to be 8 weeks old);
Too stressed out - both at office and at home, so wrote a letter to Numero Uno in the agency, asking for unpaid leave on August 3rd;
PV bleeding started on August 4th. The gynae did a scan. No fetal heart seen. The doctor told me that bleeding with fresh blood an indication of spontaneous abortion about to happen and gave me an appointment on the 16th;
Miscarriage happened at almost 1.00 p.m. at home on August 5th. Incomplete miscarriage. Kit and Fa-ah rushed from the office to get some lunch for me and the boys as well as sent me to the hospital (Thanks a million dear). The sac was left in the uterus. A&E doctor gave me MC for 5 days and asked me to stick to my August 16th appointment with the gynae;
Rested for a few days in Kampung Tunku before Mak and Ayah left for Saudi to perform their umrah during Ramadhan;
My neighbour Kak Ma who is a doctor advised me to go for another scan as quickly as possible and not to wait for my August 16th appointment. Kit supported this notion. So went back to the hospital for another check-up on August 10th (1st Ramadhan night);
Went to the A&E first. Abdominal ultrasound scan was not so good, so was referred to labour room. Gynae did a pelvic ultrasound scan and confirmed that my uterus did not look so great - larger than normal, with an opening of 1cm. The doctor ordered me to be hospitalised right away, to start fasting beginning from midnight as D&C was scheduled for the next day. A more junior doctor came to take some sample blood and a nurse gave me an injection to stop the bleeding so as to make it easier to perform the D&C;
I asked to be discharged on own risk (had to sign a letter and all) and promised to return to the hospital the next day. Was asked to go the OB/Gyn clinic at 9.00 a.m. Started packing my stuff and the kids stuff as soon as I reached home and asked my aunt to help looking after the children while I was away;
Drank lots of Bio-disc energized water and did hours of shining the LED torchlight through the Bio-disc onto my pelvic area while reciting lots of zikr and making lots and lots of doa. It was the first night of Ramadhan and I prayed hard for a miracle to happen;
The best 1st Ramadhan surprise ever - the scheduled D&C was deemed unnecessary after the gynae did yet another pelvic ultrasound scan on me. (A small miracle of sort for me since I'm really, really frightened of going inside the Operation Theatre even for a minor D&C thingy. Alhamdulillah...
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