Sini Tak Ada Hantu

Source

Translation:"Those who have believed and whose hearts are assured by the remembrance of Allah. Unquestionably, by the remembrance of Allah hearts are assured."

Surah Ar-Ra'd, verse 28

I am not the most religious person here. I am sure you have a better relationship with your God than I do with mine, because most of the time, I remember him only at my own convenience. Or when I am too deep in misery and there's simply nowhere else to turn to but to Him. But Merciful Lord that He is, He never turns away from me, Alhamdulillah.

I do, however, have that very same verse taped at the of my monitor. I stumbled upon it, reading the many status updates of my friends. The verse is my daily reminder that to be at peace with things, I need to go back to Him, because only by remembering Him will "hearts are assured" or, according to another translation, "hearts do find their rest."

I need that reminder because I am control freak. I sweat the small stuff. Although I know it's the small stuff that counts, I don't think I should make a concious decision to sweat on the small stuff, right? But freak that I am, I do. I sweat the friggin' small stuff, so much so that I may give myself high blood pressure before 30. So from time to time, I am reminded to remember Him and my heart, insyAllah will find rest.

Not to digress or anything (I promise this has a huge relationship with the verse I shared earlier), but the office I work in is an old building. It was build probably in the 60s or 70s. The company has done it's share of renovation and modernization so our office is pretty decent. However, in Malaysia, we are a very superstitious lot. Oftentimes, I get to hear all this creepy ghost stories about my colleagues' encounter with the not-so-fairer kind.

Okay, in all fairness, I have my suspicions. Personally, I do believe in the supernatural. But do I believe that 'they' can harm us? I don't think so. I personally believe that 'they' have as much power as we give to them. From time to time, I do get goosebumps out of nowhere. I have that uncanny feeling that somebody's watching over my shoulder, you know the drill. But so far, Alhamdulillah, no alarming encounters, knock on wood (uh-oh, Christian-originated saying, habislah aku masuk nuraka).

Colleagues have mentioned, that apparently, my cubicle is a hot seat, as in, a favourite place for these apparition to appear. One colleague has told me that she saw "me" sitting at the desk when I am not around. This colleague has undergone major brain surgery and has a titanium plate in her cranium, I kid you not, so I just smile and nod when she told me the story.

So enter another colleague. Who came over to my place one day, not too long after I pasted the above-mentioned verse to my monitor. She saw the verse, came closer and read it. She looked at me, dead straight in the eye, and asked, "Ini ayat halau hantu ke?"

Source

What Kind of a Mother are You???

No, this is not the quiz-type thing, at the end of which you'll receive a reinforcement saying that you are the bladibla kind of mother etc.

This is another one of my famous rantings (eh, famous ke?).

Okay, digress kejap. I know somebody suggested that I should not write based on emotions, but being a writer myself, I have found that emotions do help writing. Rage for instance, especially my brand of rage and anger, if stoked properly and let simmer for a while, can turn into a whole blog entry without my fingers ever leaving the keyboard.

Anyways, let's get back to that parenting stuff yar?

Okay, so I frequent this kinda, sorta cool online forum for parents. I am not gonna name names or put links or whatever. And at this kinda, sorta cool online forum for parents, there are a lot of young parents, sharing their stories, their tips etc with each other. Okay fine. Nothing impressive. Run of the mill kind of thing.

But what got to me the most was how absurd things can get there. One fella started a topic asking where he can get his pregnant wife an 'anti-radiation' maternity dress. At first I was like, got meh? And then I thought, his pregnant wife probably work as something that exposes her to all sorts of radiation. Then as I read on, I found out his wife works with the computer on all the time.

Oh. My. Gucci.

Perlu ke?

Okay, so nobody took the guy seriously. Most were replying with, might as well you take away the cellphones, TV. Some were pointing out, wifis are everywhere anyhow, and cell phone waves or what not. How to account for that radiation exposure?

Me, I was busy imagining myself clad in a haz-mat suit, sitting my pregnant butt in front of the computer typing away.

Houston, we've got a problem (Image Source)

Okay, different suit. But you got my point, right?

Then, upon exploration in another topic, a young stay-at-home-mom actually laments the fact that her father- and mother-in-law fed her baby durian. She says that the in-laws are not respecting her wishes by feeding her baby durian. Mind you, I don't think her baby is newborn, as in, any younger than 2 months old or anything like that. And yet, that's her grief with her father and mother in law. Feeding her baby boy durian.

BAAAAAAADDD Durian. (Source)

What the fark lah wei? Seriously? Cannot eat durian? What in the world lah wei? I can understand if it was junk food, Twisties ke or maybe even chocolate, but durian? Babies cannot eat durian? Mind you, I seriously doubt the father- and mother-in-law of this particular young mom fed the baby the WHOLE God-damned fruit, the most maybe seulas. Itu pun mau kecoh ka?

Seriously. Welcome to 21st century parenting. Where moms are expected to wear biohazard suits and babies cannot eat durians. Nice place eh? Where do I check out?

Oh So Drama

It's my routine to wake up at around 5.45 am to get ready every morning. My routine would include prying Little Miss from her bed, asking her to bath and reminding her to brush her teeth. Then I will prepare breakfast, soft-boiled eggs and drinks (me, hubs - coffee, Little Miss - her Sustagen Choc drink). Then I will go and bath and solat and get ready for work. Routine. Reliable, boring, repetitive routine.

My phone is my alarm. I usually set it at 5.30 am, then snooze it when it rings. 10 minutes after that, the alarm will sound again, and depending on the time I fell asleep last night, I will either shut/snooze the alarm or haul my lazy ayce out of bed. Today was one of the good days. The alarm rang, I snoozed once (out of habit) but even before the snooze alarm went off, I was up and taking a bath already.

While in the shower, I can hear the blardy alarm going off again. Dang! Forgot to turn my fail-safe alarms, set at 5.45 am. But hubs was around. Still asleep, so I thought he'll just shut it off while brushing my teeth. But as I was shampooing my hair, the alarm was still blaring. At first I was like, pissed off. Tidur mati lah tu, I thought. I continued to wash off the shampoo and still the alarm was blaring away. Bangunlah Little Hero nanti, I grumbled, this time feeling like dashing out the bathroom in my towel to shut the damned thing off.

But then, tiba-tiba I was like, eh, napa tak bangun-bangun ni? Mati ke ape laki aku ni? Yes, in retrospect, I was being quite the drama queen in the shower this morning. Thoughts flashed in my head, of me wearing black, of Little Hero running around like his normal active self, oblivious of the tragedy, of Little Miss growing up without her dad.

I hurriedly washed off the remnants of soap and shampoo, wrapped the towel around me, didn't even bother to dry myself and stepped out of the bathroom, half expecting (dreading?) trying to shake awake a cold and el muerta hubs. As soon as I neared the bed, hubs actually stirred and in his blurred, sleepy, half-awake state, looked at my dripping-wet self, AND BLARDY WENT BACK TO SLEEP! He didn't even bother to switch off the still-blaring alarm!

I stood there for a few more seconds, part angry, part relieved and part swallowing my own laughter and stupidity and thanked Allah for another day with my hubs. With all my loved ones.

extra prescription. I don't know what made me so sure hubs will go first. Jangan-jangan aku yang mati dulu -_-.

Girly Gurl

Don't let the hearts and baby blue and dusty pink background fool you. I am no girly girl. I detest pink and I think dresses are a waste of fabric. I don't doodle boys names (unless it's Jake Gyllenhaal) on the margins of my notebook, with arrows going through the heart and whatnot. I don't even like flowers, I consider giving flowers as a gift as a waste of money.

However, just to digress a bit, when I graduated and went through the whole convocation she-bang UiTM throws a few times a year for us grads, hubs bought me a HUGE-ass bouquet of flowers. I graduated about 5 or so years ago. I only threw away the dead bouquet about a week or so ago. Okay, so I LOOOOOOVED that particular bouquet. Not because it's a HUGE-ass bouquet of blood red roses, but because it was such a surprise coming from my otherwise unromantic, practical hubs. Hypocrite much? Not really, to me at least, because the sentiment attached to the flowers is far more important. And to me, sentiments can be delivered by other means, other than giving me flowers. Sentiments can also be delivered by cash by the way, my preferred form of sentiments.

Uhmazingly, my unpink, ungirly girl obsessions is something I am unable to rub off on my Little Miss. In all fairness, she is not exactly, 100% girly girl. But she's getting there. If it was up to her, her bedroom would probably be pink vomit. It'll be decorated up to the wazoo with Disney's Princess. Although, I am proud to announce that Little Miss' favourite Disney's Princess is Ariel. I remember when we went to Penang and boarded the ferry to get to the island, Little Miss looked over the railing and called out at the top of her lungs, into the ocean, "ARIEL!!! WHERE ARE YOU???" It was all I could do not to grab her and shut her still moving mouth with my bare hands. Instead me and hubs exchanged embarrassed glances with other smirking passengers on board. Haih.

Little Miss and Widdle Hewoe <3

You know, I've always thought that the whole love at first sight thing was a cliche. That was until I saw Little Miss for the first time. Realizing how hard it is to bring her into this world, how it almost cost me my life. And realizing, that after all is said and done, I would still go through the same thing again. For her. For little Hero. For hubs. For mak and ayah.

BTW, her t-shirt in this picture says "Superstar in Training", courtesy of her Mama of course. You can officially blame me if she tries out for American Idol or So You Think You Can Dance.