An Apology

Am not too certain how I should begin this entry. Suffice to say I am feeling pretty rotten and all choked up with emotion. You know the feeling when you are sorry for how certain things were said but simply could not help feeling what you feel.. I feel sorry, and angry but most of all I feel sad. Sad when it hits you how things are not what you perceived, or as deep as you had thought. Sad that I am seen as one who can incite so much negativity. Just sad that I did not handle things better.

Fact is, sugar coating my words have never been my style – certainly not one of my forte. So does that mean I must be a terrible person? Isn’t what’s inside more important? Not how nice you appear to others but how sincere your heart is? I don't mince my words, I don't know how to...and that appears to be my greatest fault. Sure, I am far from perfection, I am not without shortfalls and weaknesses - I have never indicated I am. I try to always remember that I am but a mere speck in the bigger scheme of things but deep in me, I am not malicious.

Yes, I can be loud, and when I have no closure my actions may be all too telling..my words may be peppered with anger. I try, you know. More often than note, believe it or otherwise, there are plenty of occassions where I try to smile and not say too much. But I guess SI is right, sometimes things are better left unsaid. My mistake- some things just don’t come easy, not to me at least. He also says I should learn to just accept things and people as they are..and that I should bite my tongue more. Ok, I hear you.

To the one I hurt, from the bottom of my heart, I apologize. Granted, sorry doesn’t make things right, but sorry is all I’ve got for now. I was out of line, and had made a bad judgment call and what it came down to was a response that was quite uncalled for. Quite honestly, my bark is usually worse than my bite which would mean I am not as unpleasant as I seem. But then again, each to his or her own..maybe that's an attempt on my part to justify. Truth is I am who I am- not neccesarily always proud of that but surely I am not the sole creature on earth who finds it hard to 'just smile'...and let things rest.

Everything happens for a reason…
And yes, I have to learn to bite my tongue a lot more.

of language, stuck door and super heroes

I won’t say I am proud of this but Haqim speaks very little Malay. But he just rang me up and attempted a full conversation in Malay. It went something like this; (but remember to read with a slight God-knows-what twang.).

Haqim: “ Mom, roti emm, tinggal emm, du-wa keping”.
Me: “ oh really?” – not realizing he was determined to pursue that in malay asked further, “you and adam ate the bread?”
Haqim, “ ermm , no, saya saje”
Me: “why are you speaking in Malay?”
Haqim “nak practice saje. Aunty Nadia (his teacher) kata”
Me: ‘ ooo’
Haqim : then gushed out excitedly, “oh mom, did you hear about the stuck door today??”

And there goes the Bahasa conversation.

Actually, he had already told me about the stuck door earlier in the day. In English. Apparently, the classroom door got stuck today and he and his friends, Aunty Nadia included, were all “trapped” inside. This was how he related the incident to me.

“ Mom, today our classroom door got stuck and we were all trapped inside Mom..!”
“ Oh dear, so what happened?”
“Auntie Nadia had to shout from under the door mom. She tried to use a card but the door wouldn’t open"
“Were you scared?”
“Nooo, but one of the boys was.”
“He cried?”
“No, he whined”.
“So then how did you get out? “
“Auntie Marisa. She rescued us Mom. With a screw driver. She’s a super hero..!”
“Oh wow..”
“Yeaaa…I think I;m going to call Opah and tell her that Auntie Marisa is also a super hero.”
“What do you mean?”
“Opah went to the flood and helped the people there. She’s a super hero..! “
“Oh wow….” (totally impressed and by then beginning to imagine if Opah will look better in the Catwoman or Wonder Woman suit….)

Kah kah…So there. My son is attempting to speak in Bahasa, which is great. And of course I am proud of Opah too, for being part of the adopting a vilage program in Johor. Just that super hero bit from my son gives it a different angle lah, that's all.

Meanwhile, me and hubby, known as Mama and Abah to my nieces and nephews, one day asked Ed, Haqim’s best bud –
"Adam, are your classmates mostly Malay, Chinese or Indian?"
"Only Malay and English."
"English??? That can’t be.."
"Yeesss lah mama...."
"And you are..? "
"Tsk - English-laa"

aaah...I should have known..his cousin Airis Sophia - she's English too..!

The correlation between breastfeeding amd sleepovers

Wah, at a glance my topic for this entry sounds so research-like huh..?

Anyway, here's the thing - my precious 5yo – Haqim, has sleepover issues. In his almost 6 years, he has probably had maybe 5,6 sleepovers, tops. No really, he does not do sleepovers, even at the gramps. I donno, it is our fault that Haqim has separation anxiety? Truth is, he does not really suffer from separation anxiety, just at nightfall. Things begin to take on a totally different perspective for Haqim once he is supposed to close his eyes and go to bed.

I suppose it all began when I chose to breastfeed my precious beyond 2 years old. It wasn’t something I had planned consciously. I knew I wanted to nurse him for awhile but I never made any specific effort to stop by a certain point. It was just convenient, he was happy, I was happy, so there was simply no reason to stop. Beyond around 2 and a half years or so it was still not such a big deal because Haqim would by then just nurse mostly at bedtime. So I went with the flow – literally..! People around me started to give me that look but it wasn’t like I had to lift up my top and feed him anywhere, anyplace..! And no, although they have teeth by that age, they do not bite. By then Haqim was doing fine during the day and would only cuddle up to mummy at bedtime.

So due to these nighttime nursing, he was constantly with me, and sleepovers became a problem for him. There were several occasions where he did follow his brothers to my parents or once to my sister’s but those were not without some crying in the middle of the night.

Which is why last weekend was an achievement for Haqim! He had spent the day with his best bud, Adam, and went with his Nana (what he calls my sis) and co to their new abode downtown. And…he called me to announce that he was sleeping over. Although we went to say hello briefly sometime that night, he was fine and did not ask to come home with us. Next morning, my sis tells me Haqim did wake up and asked for mummy but Nana assured him that the sun would be up in awhile and they can all go swimming. That said, Haqim went back to sleep.

Back home the next day, as I was winding down that evening, after his bedtime story, Haqim looking quite forlorn I might add, asked me “Mom, why do I have trouble sleeping with someone else?” I assured him that it is completely ok and there was nothing wrong with that. Haqim persisted, “but why is it so easy for some people?” I merely sighed and kissed my son and said, “sweetie, there are a lot of things that can be hard for you but easy for somebody else, but there are also things that are hard for others but very simple for you…like you talk so well and can always tell me how you feel, some people don’t know how”. And since he’s soo into drawing since he began art class, I added, “like how you drew that horse and mummy doesn’t know how to draw a horse!” He seemed satisfied with my response, at least for the time being.

Haqim had always been totally adorable, by virtue of being the baby of the family, and being our child after an 8 year gap between him and Arief, he has always been the apple of my eye, and daddy’s manja. Although he is our precious, he is not timid, only soft-hearted. He is not shy, but also not overly boisterous. Haqim has a mind of his own and usually knows what he wants but he takes instructions well. So maybe he is overly anxious when it comes to sleepovers but during bright daylight he has no issues of separation anxiety whatsoever. Take him anywhere and he’ll be more than happy.

The past few days though he’s been saying he’s gonna be sleeping at Nana’s pad again this weekend. So he says – lah. Let’s wait and see what happens.

In the meantime, do I have any regrets about my decision to breastfeed that long? Not a chance..!! Those were some of my best moments of motherhood..!

Share? No way....!

I may have mentioned before that I am not much of a Malay movie fan. But I watched Cinta recently did I not – and whaddayaknow..I watched the Indonesian movie Berbagi Suami over the past weekend. But that was Indonesian so does that count? Anyway, I was curious – yet again - so since hubby was game, why not. I wanted to see how they tackled this sensitive issue of polygamy and I was also curious as to why SIS went all out to support the movie.

Much to my surprise, it was not bad. Not bad at all. It was similar to Cinta in the sense that the movie had more than one story rolled into one film. Except here it began with one story before the second unfolded and finally the third tale was presented. And frankly, the first story was enough to get the message across and had already done so very well but the other stories were there to give the film more substance since it presented the subject matter from different angles.

For those who have yet to watch, let me fill you in. The gist of the film is but of course, the life of men who practice polygamy. But the brutal truth of how it hurts and how it affects the entire family is what this movie cleverly portrays. In the first case, the family is an affluent one, in which case the man can financially afford to take on a new wife. To make matters interesting, his first wife is a smart career woman, who is also a woman of strong faith. Still, it does not make it any easier, even after years and years. And the son grew up to be a cynical young man who did not exactly hate the father but became very protective of his mom. But cynical, no less.

In the second tale, the man is not wealthy and lives with all his wives under one roof. Crazy huh? In a more impoverished area in Jakarta, we see how someone with hardly any moral upbringing handle the polygamy issue and it can be disastrous. In a weird twist, two of his 4 wives fall for each other, I guess being exposed only to a man who use them for nothing more than fulfilling his lust leaves tremendous psychological repercussions on those with not much of moral fibers to begin with.

And finally we see the practice of polygamy by an Indonesian of Chinese origin, who is Catholic. And so we see no matter what the religion, no matter what the circumstances, polygamy will hurt and is far from heaven…except I guess when the man gets to enjoy a varied menu whenever he gets hungry. Eiiuu…gross…!

What did I get as I walked away from TGV that evening? Well, it simply reaffirms what I’ve always believed, that it never works. And this time, hubby agrees..! No-lah he wasn’t about to practice polygamy – over my dead body babe – but his 2 cents on the matter was that in situations where all parties consented, then it may be workable.

Hah - now he knows better.!! That it hurts, that you still can’t be totally happy, and that it affects the family, no matter which way you choose to look at it. As the character from the movie struggled to advise his son from his deathbed,”nanti kamu nikah, satu ajaa…pusiiing……..!!”

Simply put, the concept of sharing ends here…period.

Making the Glue

I can’t remember which movie this line came from, but it was from something I watched recently. A man had major reservations about fessing up how much he likes this girl, and not wanting to take the plunge for fear that it may be a wrong decision, he then asks for a friend’s opinion and this little conversation took place:

Bachelor: You’re married, so how do you make it stick?
Married Friend: It’s really not about making it stick, you gotta make the glue man.
Bachelor: And what if after you try, it still all falls apart?
Married Friend: Then you’ll know that you just don’t fit together.


Recently I spent a long time with an old friend who has had more than her fair share of marital woes. In her case, I guess, they just did not fit together..twice over! She’s such a dear ole friend and to listen to all her pain brought tears to my eyes. Even thinking about it brings about a lump in my throat. It’s been so long since we shared our life stories and although many years have passed, it was good to know that we could pick up where we left off. We laughed a lot that day but we cried too and I can’t help but admire her for her sheer guts.

I cannot claim I have the perfect marriage. These days life is generally good and although there are still days I get so mad with him that I can scream, well, I don’t. Things can be a lot worse I tell myself..and with him having given up smoking and has been “sober” for 2 weeks now, gives me all the reason to be happy and contented.

Coming back to that line from the movie, so, how do you make the glue? I guess with a lot of love and laughter, tolerance and understanding and most of all sometimes you just need the resolve to make it stick - unless of course in the case of my girlfriend, the guy turns out to be a total jerk, then it’s his loss. I guess sometimes you gotta find what makes the glue, the elements that make things work. The elements that make you both want to make it work, no matter what.

In my case, I must admit, the strongest and most effective glue are the kids, more so our precious angel..

Just two days ago, out of the blue, he hugged his dad’s neck real tight and suddenly said, please try, please try, never start again, ok daddy, I love you. That stunned us both and moved daddy to bits – it also made daddy vow, ok son, I will always remember that voice if ever I feel the urge to start again..

You just can’t beat that kinda glue….

Stubbing it out!

Well, whaddayaknow…it’s been over a week since hubby last lighted a cigarette..! In fact, it’s been a good 9 nine days..9 whole days….!! Wow, am I a proud wife right now. And the difference between now and the countless of times that he’s ever attempted to quit is this time he’s been telling the world.

So, yes, I sure wish and pray this time it’s for real, once and for all. Whatever cigarette packs that I could get my hands on, I’ve thrown out. The ashtray that lays at our wooden bench outside the house, the one of two places where he smokes (the other being the downstairs toilet!) has been cleaned and put away. What remains is a carton that sits on top of one of the shelves at his home office, that I can’t quite reach..that perhaps needs to be there just to prove to him, that he can fight this thing.

It’s his birthday today..his 41^st. And I hope this marks a fresh beginning. If so, it’s as though that entire episode of his kidney stone was orchestrated from up there just to be the catalyst for him to finally stub the habit. Isn’t that weird? I mean, not peculiar weird, just amazingly weird. God gave him this medical condition that was enough to jerk him into realization – that he needed to wake up and drop that particular vice. He used to say to me, look, smoking is my only vice, please don‘t give me a hard time. So I stopped nagging. Oh, ok, I admit I did not stop. Nagging isn’t a nice term to use, and husbands hate the word, so maybe I began to just advise, and reminded him endlessly. But his kids, they harassed him almost to no end. The bargaining he had to go through with his sons, the nagging he got from them I think far surpassed his wife’s.

Now they tell him how proud they are of him. They tell him kissing his hand is now a pleasure because his hands used to smell real bad. My no 2 said if ever he gets to meet the person who first talked his dad into the habit, “Arief akan tumbuk orang tu." His close friends at work are also proud of him, and the fact that none of them are smokers should help him a lot. One in particular is an ex-smoker, who quit some 7 years ago, has even told him he’s gonna help hubby.

And me, my doa is for hubby to have the strength to fight the temptation. I am thankful he is finally making the resolve to lead a healthier lifestyle and I no longer feel like I’m kissing an ashtray.