my son turned 5, and I cried.

Went through my draft list and found a post written on April 3rd, 2017. And decided to post this anyway, for memory's sake.

Somehow, my son turning 5 turned into an emotional event for me. 

I guess the whole year leading to his 5th birthday was such a roller coaster ride, that seeing how much he's grown in a year somehow overwhelmed me. 

And I thought... if I'm this overwhelmed, imagine how overwhelmed he is.

Since the birth of Ayesha, I think I have become so much harder on him.

I imposed on him the Big Brother Role because I believed that he was ready to take it on. And I do actually believe that he is ready. But then, despite being so mentally prepared to be a Mom of Two (or so I thought), due to my lack of readiness in dealing with 2 children with such vastly different needs, I did not have the patience to let the role sink in.

I just demanded that he get along with the programme, just like I did.

In turn, it made him stronger, tougher. Not sure about being more responsible voluntarily, but he took on the simple roles I made him do to make him understand that I would no longer do them for him anymore because I had more than just him to care for -- and that Ayesha is part of that little world which used to belong to only us.

And (with much resentment) he understood... he really did. And with that came the change which I so demanded out of him... (I'm not too sure I like them all...)

And there is not a day where I don't wonder if I've damaged him by being so hard, so tough, so demanding.

There are days when I would stare out into space with a blank look on my face and tears would form out of the "no thoughts" in my head.

Some days it got so bad, that once my friend had to convince me that I was doing fine... and that if I wasn't , my children would not be thriving as well as they did... that I am enough.

Haih...

Right this moment, I am able to command some kind of "fear" just by raising my eyebrows at him over something he did or said... Right this moment, I'm okay with that although some mothers will agree to disagree with me and my methods.

But my baby a year ago... is no longer "that baby".  And I'm pretty sure that in another year... he'll be another version of himself.

And I honestly don't know how to feel about that.

my and the social media.

Blogging used to be so much fun. Sharing used to be so much fun.

But now, I feel like everything you say could be used against you in the most adverse way possible. 

And as much as I don't get why, I do somehow believe in the "evil eye", which I believe is the very reason I have so much hesitance in posting anything because the question I keep asking myself every.single.time I feel like sharing anything now is...,

"Motip?"

Somehow, I feel that these questions I keep asking myself stem from my own annoyance with the influx of unnecessary information on social media of late (like on Instagram, for instance).

I keep wondering why people share the things they do and to be completely honest, there are times when their postings make me feel somewhere between annoyance and jealousy, which is totally and completely ridiculous! And not to mention unhealthy! Because surely, there was no malice intent in their postings as they were just sharing. It's called SHARING, Hanisa!

And still!

It goes to show that although I am not an evil person in general, I do at times question other people's motives when they share something, when it's really none of my business! So I keep imagining having an evil person looking at my innocent postings with an evil eye and that sets off alarms which puts me in a whole new level of paranoia.

So anyways, my Instagram is a little dead right now because I don't know how much of myself I'm willing to expose (such an ironic statement considering the activities going on in this blog haha) and though I'm not sure why I blog anymore apart from wanting to have some keepsakes for my own future reference, here I am sharing away some of my life because here's where I feel the "safest".

I do sometimes wonder if I'm the only one having such chronic love-hate with the social media.

where do I even begin?

There really isn't anyone or anything to blame for my absence from this space. I've lost count of the many times I've stared into this "Compose" space and wondered,

"Where do I begin?"

Because between then (read: the last post) and now... so many things have taken place. And each time I think of everything that has happened during that space of time, my reactions range from anxiety to relief to sadness. Worst still, there are times when they're all bundled as one huge feeling ... and that's when it becomes overbearingly overwhelming.

Like it is today. 

And just so happens, both my babies are sound asleep and I'm running on more caffeine that usual, which is why I'm still awake. So, I decided to come back to this "old friend" of mine to see if I could "unload" ... in hopes that I would feel a whole lot better later.

So, anyway, I digress. Let's get back to where I should begin.

Because really. After all this time, how do I even begin?

Shall we begin with the multiple clinic visits and  hospitalisations that happened 2 weeks apart in the span of 6 weeks?

Or should we start with how my relationship with my son has changed since he turned 5?

Maybe we could begin with how a long distance relationship has shaped and affected the dynamics of this clingy clan I have called my nucleus family?

Or should we start with how different I have become since I've had no choice but to be strong? And also how much I resent being "tough" at times?

Or shall we begin with how strongly I have been feeling lately about how unappreciated working women are in general and how my contributions somehow seem insignificant no matter how much I put in?

Really. With all of these going through my head. Is there really anywhere that I can begin?

All I know is that I no longer know how to unload this load on my back, in brain and everywhere else that hurts. Which is why I'm back here right now, trying to let some of that pain go.

Because I think that August is the straw that broke the camel's back. And I really need an outlet to let go.

In August, I was physically and emotionally stretched -- both at home and at work. If felt like such a long month (it is a long month with 31 days to begin with) and each day felt like a neverending battle against time. By the end of each working day, I just wanted to get back home to my babies -- but I didn't really want to. I'm not sure if that makes any sense at all, but I'm sure some people would understand how it is that I feel. And that unhealthy cycle just went on and on and on -- like a carousel that wouldn't stop.

Hence here I am -- looking green and sick. Sick from the routine. And sick of being tired. If I had to pick one word that could succinctly explain my current feelings -- it would be jaded.

So, now that I've unloaded some of that off... how does a jaded person like me even begin? Really. I'd really like to know how do I even begin.

The Four Promises.

These past 2 weeks have been an amazing time for my little family. 

Despite the amount of convincing I had to do at the office, I managed to get my long leave approved... just because I needed to take a break. Not sure what kind of music I'll be facing when I get back to the mothership on Monday... but I know that it'll be worth it.

And to make use of this long break, we held a little Birthday Lunch for our kids with family and close friends, we went on a little holiday by the beach, we huddled to sleep together on the daily, played house and let the kids have extended bedtimes, just for the fun of it.

During this break, I've also been able to have some real conversations with my husband about all the things that matter; life, future, properties and religion. 

And on the topic of religion, we talked about what it felt like to feel so "removed" from Allah. 

Because truth to be told, of late, I have felt that way one too many times. And I don't know why.

Well, even if I did know why, there's actually very little that I can do to change it -- and therein lies the problem.

Because you see, as a mother, you are required to give 200% of yourself to motherhood -- even when you don't want to. So, being a "single parent" means that you've got to give double the attention and TLC to your kids, which means that you'd have very little of anything left to yourself... including time with your God. 

I know that children shouldn't be the reason but anyone who's been in my reality would know that I don't at all intend to use my children as a reason and honestly, I really miss time with my God. 

Having some time off from work gave me time to think about how to improve my relationship with God. Because like I said before, I miss my time alone with Him. So, I figured, even if I could no longer spend hours in prostration to Him, maybe I could just open up to Him right before I sleep and pray -- as in pray hard and submit to Him wholly (tawakkal) with hopes that whatever deeds I have done for the day would be enough.

And so, my journey of total submissiveness began. While putting my kids to sleep, I prayed,

"Ya Allah, please help me Ya Allah. I don't know what else I should do."

And that is really all it took.

Total submissiveness was really all that was required for Allah to bring light on my plight. 

Therefore, I am writing this today so that (you and) I shall never forget the 4 promises - 

(1) Remember Me, and I will remember you;

(2) Ask Me, and I shall give you;

(3) If you give thanks, I will give you more; and

(4) Allah will not punish them while they seek forgiveness. 

So, whatever you do, whatever you problems, don't give up on praying. 

It really isn't too late to ask. 

be kind - none of us can make it alone in this world.

Readers of this space would probably think that I am exactly like I am here and in real life -- at least in terms of how open I am about my life.

Truth is, my whole "make up" is the complete opposite; I don't really trust that easily; I hardly open up to those who I don't know on a personal basis; and though I don't really have a resting bi*ch face, many have confessed that they don't find me that approachable.

Kind of makes this space a contradiction in itself, since I have absolutely no idea who exactly is reading these mindless rants of mine. And yet, I've been pouring my heart out in this space for years with so much comfort, so much so that some might think that they know me though they've never met me.

I actually don't enjoy being unapproachable. And although I'm not really that sociable or outgoing, I do occasionally enjoy random conversations with random people and I wonder how I can be just a little slightly more than friendly, at the very least.

Which is why at the very beginning of 2017, I have resolved to try.

And... to my surprise, my efforts are beginning to reap extremely desirable effects. People around me who never knew me personally before, who initially thought I am "Super" now know that I, just like them, am human too -- that I have off days with my kids, that I enjoy online shopping and that I crave for some downtime from work although I love to work. 

It took so much for me to open up, but it took so little for them to accept the fact that I am not invincible.

Which then lead me to resolve on another thing, which is to be kinder to women in general.

Not sure about how things are on your end, but on my end, people seem to glorify a man's efforts, while the same effort in women is shun. Simple example - a man rushes home after work because he has to pick up his children = sweet and responsible, But if a woman does the same? = unfocused and doesn't know her priorities.

See what I mean?

Worst thing is that it's the women who belittle other women. We are our own worst enemy. 

Hence my earlier new resolution.

So, I'm basically writing this today to say that I'm just a normal human being. And that I have off days. And that I'm tired of being a woman belittled by other women. And so, I will continue to congratulate women for their husband's and their own successes. Because once in a while, people need to be reminded that behind every successful man is a (physically and mentally) strong woman and that none of us can make it in this world alone. So, be kind.

With that, Happy Monday everyone.

some sense of normalcy.

The other day, I saw my neighbours arriving home from work at the same time. 

I was in the kitchen, cradling Ayesha on one hand while preparing the kids' dinner with the other.

And as I watched (or more like stalked) them, I started feeling... for lack of better word..., lonely.

My days and nights (apart from those 10 hours at work) are normally filled with all these "single-handed" activities. So though there are technically 3 people in the house, there's actually very little communication going on. Adult conversations are confined to our daily video calls. And most conversations revolve around what's showing on YouTube and who did what in school. And on the bad days, the house is like an army camp -- no one (but me) gets to say anything. But hey Mama's got to do what she needs to do (right?). 

So, I guess whatever it is that I felt yesterday evening has been a long time coming. 

People tell me that I'm lucky because I still get to see my husband at least 2 weeks once, and that I should appreciate his efforts of wanting to be with us, whenever he can.

It goes without saying that I'm the luckiest woman alive to have him as mine, and better still, to have him home to be with his kids. 

But sometimes, I think people (inadvertently) forget... that those left behind do have a set (or maybe many sets) of challenges of their own and most times, the struggle is real... so real -- 

I feel that being left behind hurts just as much as being the one leaving. I know that it shouldn't be a battle about who's hurting more because who on earth would want that kind of competition and frankly, we're both aware of each others' situation...

It's just that sometimes... I struggle  --

And I question the decisions we've made.

And doubt the love we have.

And I ponder on the daily if there is anything that I can do to make myself feel better. 

And I wonder if some day we'd be able to feel some sense on normalcy, whatever it is that may now be.

what day is it, and in what month?

Hello,

hello,

hello...

... is there any body in there?! Just nod if you can hear me...

It's been such a long time since I even had the chance to even think of escaping into this world.

No excuses whatsoever as I don't intend to justify my absence. And there really isn't any need for wild guesses as to what I've been up to because hey, I'm a Working Mom of Two with No Help, so that pretty much sums up where all my time and efforts have gone to (I think, HAHAHA).

Quite frankly, I would say that this is one of the toughest "jobs" I've ever had in my life.

I'm not too sure if I'm being too hard on myself or if it's actually normal to beat yourself up over all my little failures in motherhood, but to be honest, I really do feel like a loser on the daily. 

And honestly, it becomes exhausting over time, leaving me tired and uninspired. 

So on days like these, when I'm extra lacking in inspiration, I like to read through my old posts to reminisce the good old days.

And it gets me wondering -- were the good old days really better, or have I developed the inability to be grateful for everything good that I now have? Or could it be that my standards of what is "good" and "bad" be so horribly screwed that I can no longer differentiate one from the other?

Superwomanry.

image googled.

So the other day, I took Atiya Ayesha for her 9-month check-up and jab. And I met this nice petite lady at the nursing room where we instantly started telling each other of our... "predicament".

I'm guessing that she had just had the longest weekend and the rain that morning certainly didn't help her with ferrying her own circus clan out of the house to their respective schools and like me, she had to rush to get her baby for their appointment too. 

Hence, discovering someone else also living with the same plight certainly felt like finding sanctuary. At least that's how it felt to me. 

She asked me what my plans are going forward and I told her that I have, for a long time now, given up on Superwomanry. 

Because as you all already know, I certainly didn't ace the first few months as a Mom of Two. Heck I'm still grasping at straws even though it's been almost a year since, which is the very reason why I have decided to hang my "Superwoman" cape for good.

I always tell people that it's okay to ask for help; that a mother is of no use to anyone if she is sick, or unhappy, or overly tired -- Because sure, becoming a mother does come with its own set of sacrifices and challenges -- that's granted.

But when in the moment, the heart needs some intensive convincing that we've gained more than that which we have lost. And that's where most of us are fighting a lost cause. Because we're told to suck it up and to get used to it and that we are not grateful when we whine or pull a long face when the going gets tough. 

I wasn't too sure where I was going with this post when I began. But I guess I just wanted to let some things off my chest. And I wanted everyone to know that I'm still here, and that I personally feel like it's okay for me to lose my sh*t sometimes.

Especially right this moment when I can no longer remember what it feels like to be me...

my 2016, abbreviated.

Abbreviated in probably 2 words;

PJJ; and

WFHM.

Oh, and maybe 2015 in memory too.

It's been such a long time since the last time, in fact, it's been way too long.

I miss this space. I really do.

And to be honest, I kind of miss me too.

getting this off my chest -- so I can move on.

Tengok balik list, banyak betul draft these couple of months. BANYAK.

Tapi semua tak post, sudahnya jadi basi, lepas tu, terbuku dalam hati.

Padahal, ada hari, hati meronta nak ceritakan semuanya pada semuanya.

Hari ni, ada sikit masa senggang, rasa nak post balik drafts yang agak relevant walaupun dah basi... just so kita ada reference di kemudian hari, tapi entah -- rasanya selagi satu isi hati ni tak dilepaskan, selagi tu tak boleh move on.

So, here goes.

Nagging is not my second nature. Itu satu. Keduanya, I don't really know how to be angry. Sometimes, marah pun sambil senyum. Lepas tu, kalau marah betul, confirm menangis sendiri out of utter regret. Confirm. Pelik, tapi benar. Itulah dia true story.

Each time I get angry (really angry), I will eventually cry. And I'll feel bad and super tired about it for days on end.

Walaupun begitu, bila dah marah dengan orang/benda for something, it literally takes FOREVER for me to forget. Bukan berdendam, tapi tak boleh lupa. Kalau nak tahu, sebenarnya PENAT bila tak boleh lupa ni... agaknya itu lah sebab saya sentiasa kurus -- benda orang dah tak ingat, kita tak lupa-lupa juga. Tapi terima saja lah, dah Allah jadikan kita begitu... ada lah sebabnya tu. Everyone has their own set of challenges, bukan?

Itu cakap pasal marah dengan orang... kalau marah dengan anak-anak? Pergh. Dia punya sesalan tak boleh nak explain. I used to live with no regrets, tapi lepas dapat anak dua ni ... kumpul regrets yang rasa hari-hari dari anak bangun sampai anak tidur -- boleh gila dibuatnya.

Sebelum ada yang salah faham, let me explain. Bukan regret sebab beranak. Engko gila ke apa. Regret tu terbit daripada marah yang sengaja walaupun tak sengaja, ignorance yang sengaja disebabkan tak sengaja, upset secara sengaja dalam tak sengaja. Ayat tu sendiri dah pening, kan? Boleh imagine tak betapa dalam hati ni pening dia macam mana? Nak explain with words secara waras pun tak boleh, apatah lagi nak show you the shape of my heart. Ewah merapu dah. 

Pokoknya, every time I leave my kids at school, on the way to work mesti nangis. Not that their school is not good; I pay to send them to wonderful schools with wonderful teachers and they are superb at their jobs. Tapi nangis sebab malam sebelumnya mesti dah terjerit, termarah, ter-buat-buat tidur bila anak tanya soalan, terabaikan bila rasa pampers anak penuh. 

Paling best, ter-annoyed masa Atiya Ayesha first said "Mama". Boleh?

"Mama" was her first word and I was annoyed.

Punyalah nak anak sayang kita kali ni (Luqman masa kecik cakap "Daddy" dulu). But since she said "Mama" because wanted my attention and all I was thinking about then was getting the laundry done, I was annoyed. 

Last-last Luqman yang lagi excited. Lepas tu, I got annoyed at Luqman for being excited pulak.

It has been, for lack of better word, such a psychotic 6 months for me.

So much so that I wondered -- macam mana masa dengan Luqman dulu, I could survive the 6 months without my husband alone. Masa tu lagi lah, dengan duit tak ada, susu badan tak cukup, duduk dekat tingkat 8. I didn't eat dinner or bathe either. Solat pun macam pencuri. Tapi masa tu, survive dan seolah tak kisah dengan penat. 

Tapi sekarang macam annoyed. Dah kenapa? 

Jawapannya, sebab circumstances kali ni berbeza. Kali ni, I don't only have me to take care of, I have another human being (Luqman) depending on me too. There was once when I was afraid to ask him if he was hungry because I was sure that he was... tapi Atiya memerap -- tak boleh letak, tak boleh tinggal, tak boleh gerak. All she wanted to do was nurse. Nasib baik husband balik malam tu, so kita kasi Luqman makan at 11 p.m. sambil dia tersengguk-sengguk mengantuk. 

Ada sekali tu, bila kita dah penat, kita try crying it out method -- masa nak mandikan Luqman and masa dia mintak wash poopoo, and it worked -- she cried until she became quiet on her own. But after that, I vowed that it would be the first and only time I would ever do it. I never want to leave my child crying like that ever again. EVER. And I never did it again. Kalau sorang mandi, semua masuk toilet, sorang berak, semorang cuci. 

Tapi tak boleh buat apa, sebab kita semua mesti survive. Paling penting anak-anak mesti survive. Abang must survive -- must be clean, must be healthy, safe, happy. And Adik must have enough milk, enough clean diapers, walaupun mungkin sedikit lacking in affection as compared to when Abang was growing up. Tapi tak apa, we'll make up for lost time, I convinced myself. 

But eventually, pinggang sakit, lutut sakit, kaki sakit, hati sakit.

Sakit sangat sampaikan anak cakap "Mama" pun annoyed. Sakit sangat sampai pergi kerja setiap hari tak pernah tak nangis. Sakit sampaikan 530 petang sampai anak-anak tidur, I would be holding my breath out of nervousness -- takut something goes wrong -- anak demam ke, jatuh ke, perlukan hospital ke. Psychotic kan?

And that's when I realised. sebenarnya for my children to survive, yang paling penting ialah for their Mama (read: me) to survive. My survival was paramount to theirs. 

I forgot that dalam banyak-banyak orang tu, I was the one who cannot fall or fall sick or go to the hospital and most importantly I cannot go crazy. Only problem is, I was on the brink of insanity. 

I realised that that could not go on if I wanted to survive. And I needed help. Big time. 

And just when I needed help the most, help came. And I shall forever be grateful to Allah, for granting me what I need, when I need it the most. 

It's been a week since help arrived. And I haven't made a big deal out of it yet because I don't want to jinx it. 

All I know is that if help is here to stay, we're going to have better days ahead, in sha Allah.

2 months (and 2 teeth) later.

Looks like this is what my "blogger" life has been reduced to; a 2-month once update.

Ashamed to call myself a "blogger" anymore because (1) not sure how relevant blogs are in the world of growing social media; and (2) I've jumped on the "bandwagon" of no updates for want of time (mostly).

Yet, at the same time... having kept this blog for so long, doing away with it doesn't seem like an option at all. 

My baby girl is now 6 months and 1 week young. She's currently down with fever, cutting 2 teeth at once. Can't flip onto her tummy by herself yet... but when you give her tummy time, she's pretty mobile. So, I really have to watch her because man is that girl fast! No solids yet because she can't sit upright on her own... but to be completely honest, I actually feel a little bit sayang to give her solids after all that hard work making sure she's 100% (b)oo(b)fed up to this point.

Other than that...

6 months after, we're still trying our best to understand each other.

I've relented to the fact that I can never be the same mother I was to Luqman when raising Atiya. And though I'm 6 months late in coming to that realisation, I do admit that admitting that fact has caused much liberation (to my surprise). Not sure who's standards I was trying to live up to previously, but now that I'm over being hard on myself, I should probably start to enjoy my girl before it's too late.

Other than that...

Life has been quite uneventful, I must say -- and the irony is that it has left me with very little (leisure) time in hand. I sometimes forget the person I was before I became a mom of two and my passion for the things I used to love -- and life generally... has just been reduced to well, going through day after day after day after day.

I know I sound a little ungrateful, unhappy even (which honestly is not the case at all)... but I can't help but sound that way while I'm going through this toughest phase (i.e. the First 18 Months) alone. 

And while I hope that this phase will pass, I do also hope that Atiya won't grow up too fast, leaving all her baby fat behind as a mere memory. In fact, like I've mentioned so many times before, I'd like for me to  be able to baby her a little while longer and for a chance for us to be able to understand each other a little bit better. 

So, that should be all you need to know as an update at 2 months (and 2 teeth) later.

I hope I will once again find the light in my soul -- and that that light would one day show in these writings that I very much like to share.