March 26, 2015

don't know if I (still) can.

I don't know why I thought I could in the very first place, but I at the time I signed up and paid RM60 to join the Shape Night Run, I knew that I could. I also thought that the renovation works would be over and done with by CNY and that we would now be staying at our New Place. But in reality, we're still tying up so many loose ends and have yet to pack a single thing in our current home. 

On top of that, Endomondo has been sending me motivational emails to encourage me to carry on with my training. Dalam bahasa kasarnya, it's telling me that it's time I get off my lazy butt. 

Thing is, I am far from lazy. I am just fatigued. To the core. And I swear I'm not even exaggerating the truth. I never understood why my mom used to feel so tired all the time when they were renovating the Bangi House but having gone through the experience of dealing with so many people and so many unmet timelines (yes, unfortunately), I totally get it now. I just don't feel like I'm up for anything. At all.

  I told this to my husband and told him of my intention to pull out from the Shape Night Run. So he told me to think of the many things I could have bought with the RM60 which I paid earlier and after spending so much money on the house, I for one, would really hate to waste that RM60. That, and the fact that I am not a quitter... so pulling out is so not me.

So, I went for my training last few days and it wasn't so bad--stamina-wise. The only thing bothering me right now is how badly my calves sting after I hit the 5 km mark and I need to go beyond the 5 km mark because... when I signed up earlier, I just had to challenge myself to join the 11.2 km since I thought of all the things I thought in first para above. 

I'll be needing loads of luck now. 

That, and a whole lot of training too. 

I really don't know if I still can. But I know that I should. Coz I'm a survivor, I'm going to make to it, I will survive, keep on surviving


March 25, 2015

mamahood 101: mama, nak paluk?

My son, just like your children I am sure, is very is to please.

"Mama, nak paluk" seems to be his only request when I get home, before he goes to sleep, when he wakes up and just before we leave home for school. He loves those hugging sessions. It seems to be the remedy to everything. 

I know this because it seems to remedy me, too, but even so...

I never seem to be able to fulfill that simple request, at least not immediately. 

I'm always in the midst of getting something done. I'm always rushing to go somewhere. I'm always too tired or too busy. For a hug. Worst still, I get upset with him for getting upset with me when I refuse him his hug.

What kind of a parent I am, I really don't know.

Although I do try my very best to hug him whenever he wants to be hugged, even let him sit on my lap while I am doing the impossible; ironing work clothes(!!!), it still breaks my heart when I have to tell him... "Sekejap ye, sekejap ye, sekejap ye" multiple times before I can actually sit down with him. What's even more heartbreaking is when he actually understands... and waits outside the toilet door until I am done bathing, and gleefully asks me whether he can have his hug then...

"Mama dah mandi ke? Mama nak Allahuakbar (solat) ke?"

"Yes, Sayang"


And he continues waiting until I am done with everything before seating himself on my lap so that we could recite our doa together. 

There might will come a time, I am sure, when he would be too tired to wait around for me for a simple hug. When that time comes, I guess I'll just have to be prepared to tell myself,

"Serves you right."

 Though I hope with all my heart, that that will never happen and that he would one day understand how much I'm trying to cope with at the moment and how much I wished I could give him all the hugs in the world. 

surviving this last leg.


These days, I have an incessant need to munch on something. Something sweet. All the time.

Oh, no, I'm not pregnant, so you can stop the speculating. 

According to my husband, who once attended this particular event which talked about what your cravings mean (I don't think that it was an event specifically for that reason, no. Just in case you're wondering), when you crave sweet things all the time, you are stressed. 

And based on that premise, it means that I am stressed out all the time. Because (under normal circumstances) I don't snack, I don't like to munch in between meals and I most certainly don't crave sweet things in the middle of the night. Only lately, I do.

But I'm smiling all the time, according to one of our staff members. She found it both amusing and amazing that I could, under this very stressful work environment, laugh it all out like nothing in the world bothered me. Thing is, do I have a choice?

Due to my crazy all the time cravings, I backtracked my movements and activities to the recent past weeks. Have I really been under too much pressure or am I aggravating my stress levels more by writing on my blog about a potentially non-existent pressure?

And the truth is that I think I've bitten off more than I can chew.

There's just way too many things on my plate right now and I don't know where to start.

I find myself wanting to be perfect, yet hating the very idea of the perfect person which other women advocate that other women should be. I find myself hating to eat out but also hating the thought of having to clean up after the meal. I find myself wanting a clean house but wanting nothing to do with the process of cleaning the house. We're at the last leg of renovations but I can't seem to muster the motivation needed to clean and pack our current house for the big move. And these conflicts really are just the tip of the iceberg. There's so much more tangled thoughts in my head, I don't even want to go there. 

I realise that whatever challenges it is that I am going through at the moment is for a better future, in sha Allah. But I've got to say that coming to terms with that fact is rather taxing. It's both funny and unnerving seeing myself like this especially since I self-declared myself to be the Energizer Bunny, who supposedly never runs out of batteries. 

When this phase this over (hopefully not long from now), I really do think I need a recharge, whatever form that may be in. 

But for now, I'm going to need all the luck and energy I can get to finish the last leg of this run.

March 16, 2015


"Now that you're an adult, you might still feel a pang of guilt when you decline a dinner invitation in favor of a good book. Or maybe you like to eat alone in restaurants without the pitying looks from fellow diners. Or you're told that you're "in your head too much", a phrase that's often deployed against the quiet and cerebral. 

Of course, there's another word for such people: thinkers."

- Susan Cain, Quiet

I chanced upon Quiet last Friday when I was out alone in my attempts to compose myself after a long, tiring week. It was the third book I picked up and read through and at the 3rd page, I was sold. But then I told myself that I needed more convincing because this was one of the more expensive books out of the 3, so I shouldn't be making an impulse buy. 

I reached the 7th page and saw the passage above. I was so amused at how well I was able to relate to it and decided that

Haven't progressed that much from that page but only because I've been so busy! (told you that it'd be impossible to take a break in the midst of our impending move to our new home... but all is well, Alhamdulillah). Plus, I'm trying not to finish the book (and every other book I've been reading, really) by rushing through the passages just to prove that I can still speed-read a book; it's all about the details now and I quite like it that way. 

Anyway. The book suggested that I try broaching the subject of Quiet with a group of friends just to gauge their reaction. Since my colleagues and I seem to be suffering from a horrible bout of "Monday Blues", wherein we're almost literally sleepwalking through the day especially after that heavy lunch that we had together... I tried asking them what they thought of "time alone".

  Surprisingly (to me at least)... my colleagues, who are supposedly outgoing, outspoken, out of this world people who would go out of the way for everything lawyers echo Quiet. They are... technically, what this world of ours would call... introverts.

We don't mind shopping alone, eating alone, going out alone, being alone sometimes.... although technically that personalty trait just doesn't jive with being a lawyer by profession.

No wonder I get along so well with them! We're all weird lawyers!!! Hahahaha. 

Anyways, this post was just to say that I've actually started reading more since the past year although I alternate from one book from another, plus, for some books, I even write down notes (skema alert!!!). Haven't really had the time to review them all, but glad that I've somehow managed to squeeze in my once favourite pastime back into my life. 

Slowly but surely, in sha Allah! 

Now, I'm going to go and enjoy some Quiet

March 13, 2015

even heroes have the right to bleed.


3 and a 1/2 months gone in a blink of an eye. 

Like all previous years, this first quarter too has been a rather hectic one as the workload began to re-pile onto my work station after everyone else returned from their long, long year-end break. 

Though that was pretty much expected, this week, for some reason, was just extra taxing.

So taxing that I actually (rather mysteriously) broke down into tears this morning when I heard the slightest tinge of a raised voice during a work discussion. Since when did I become so sensitive?

To avoid making an unnecessary scene, I excused myself as fast as I possibly could by giving some fumbled but rather credible excuse of wanting to do further research. But even as I was making that escape, tears were welling up in my eyes and before I could reach my "secure place" (I'll leave that to your imagination), the full-blown waterworks began.

After minutes of trying to calm myself down and failing miserably at stopping the waterworks, I SOS-ed "my person", all the while hoping that he'd be able to peel himself away from the meeting for just a little while because I really did need him at the time.

Sensing that something was amiss (we hardly ever communicate during office hours unless absolutely necessary), he temporarily left his meeting to tend his seething, crying wife, bless the man. 

I let it all out; tears and words all fumbled and muffled in between my sobs and frustration at everything that was making me mad. And as I anticipated, after all that was over, I was back to my old self again. 

Thank God that I was born with eyes that don't go puffy even after all that crying, so soon after, I was able to rejoin the discussion like nothing ever happened.

Everything turned out okay in the end. There were no more raised voices (or maybe the first time was really my imagination) and all works was done and submitted within the stipulated timeline. 

And though I don't normally go out for lunch, today I did. Alone. Didn't eat anything but instead bought myself some good coffee, a book and some apples to munch. 

Came back to the office much happier and calmer and also slightly amused at my own earlier silliness. 

But I guess even heroes have the right to bleed, ey?

Here's to hoping that this weekend would be a great time to catch on some sleep, though I doubt it since tomorrow morning's going to start with our contractors installing lights in our soon-to-be home! 

More on the new house when times are better in sha Allah, but for now,


March 08, 2015

mamahood 101: the first of many other firsts

Today, my son had his first haircut.

Having given birth to a boy who was born practically bald(-ish), I never saw the need to make make him even bald(er), while everyone carried on with the cukur jambul traditions. Even when his hair started growing out, I was always finding excuses not to chop any of it off. Because he has the most beautiful curls. (Yes, I'm naturally biased, guilty as charged.) 

But today, like I said earlier, my son had his first haircut.

It was inevitable.

His fringe was beginning to drive him nuts. And the rest of his curly locks, though not as thick as other kids' hair, was making him scratch like a monkey. 

Since we were at my parents' place and my mom has a good pair of hair-cutting scissors and he was ever willing to please her to win some points (which always ends up with him getting more toys, lucky US haha!), I made that call.

I took it better than I thought I would. Thought I would be bawling but I wasn't! Haha #dramasangat ! 

But be that as it may, I did take some of his cut hair as a momento of that event. 

I know that I'll eventually throw it out or stash it somewhere I will forget, but like my mom said, we (re: mothers) are all like that about our children. We don't know why we do the things we do, but we keep doing them anyway.
 Even if it seems real crazay! 

 If that ain't love then I don't know what love is, ey? 

Hehe. And for the record, my son actually looks just THE SAME! Thank god for curly hair genes! Heheh


Photo above is before his locks were chopped. Hehe