I need time management!

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My firstborn is 10 years old this year, and he is mid-way into his primary four education (aka grade 4).

Since he is out of the zero to nine years age range, the age range of 'early childhood', well, I can safely say that Afzal is into his middle childhood. Now, what does that mean?

It just mean one thing for me. His mathematics subject is getting harder, and it is definitely a steeper learning curve this year, not only for him but for me. On top of the mathematics, there's the science that is a lot more demanding this year.

The problem sums are getting more complicated, and there are layers of layers of problems to solve before you even arrive to the actual answer that the question wants. My speciality has always been early childhood maths, and now I realize  that I am not as productive as I could be in assisting him with this middle-hood maths.

I have reliquished my teaching role to the hubby, partly maths is getting a bit too complicated for me. It has been less fun to teach without using manipulatives and hands-on materials, because at primary four, there's very little creativity involved in the teaching. Maybe I have not researched enough how to solve the problem sums more creatively.

And partly we have an addition to the family, our 2nd born son. As a growing baby, Aqil needs attention, and at 6 months, he already knows whose attention he wants to seek. ;P And now I am re-starting my early childhood strategies cycle once again this time on Aqil.

It's going to be an exciting ride ahead! With the trials that Afzal had gone through with me, I definitely have a better idea of what, how, why, and when to do things with Aqil, I surely hope so. But one thing that I have to remember is that every child is different, but every child has the potential to learn anything and everything. And in order for Aqil to maximise learning, it really depends on me as the parent to nurture and harness his capacity. However, it is always so easy to get sidetracked and distracted with the daily grind of life.

As a working mother who only wants the best for her kids and our lives ahead, I have to keep reminding myself that my children are only young once. If I missed that moment, that opportunity, that milestone, it will never, ever come back to me. So, this reminder is for me to spend my time wisely with my children. Time management! is key to my sanity as a working mum!

Moving again

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It's been two years. And it's time to move again.

Property prices are really on the rise, but compared to the same time two years ago, the price then was really mad. It was sky-high! Now, we can see rentals that are lower than what we are paying for the same square feet. And since we are waiting for our own - yes OWN abode to be ready in 2 years time, we decided to move to a more reasonable rental unit, to save some of the money for our future furnishings and reno.

So the search is on, and mind you, I - really am tired. It's mind boggling negotiating deals, because the hubby will only say what he wants but would not do the searching, the shorlisting, the calling and the negotiating. Sometimes I'm really mad at his irrational choices, but because he is the hubby and would go into the 'black-face' mode when I questioned his irrational reasoning, I decided for my own sanity just to go ahead with his decision. And he jolly well know that at times he is paying for his bad decision-making skills.

Enough ranting about the other half, but I can't help it. I have some viewing to do tomorrow and I will go without him cos he is working. I can't wait for him to be off on weekends as weekends are the time that more units are available for viewing.

In 2005, when we were in the States, we rent out our executive apartment in Jurong which was only going at $1150. Now for the same unit, it can go as high as $2700! Can you imagine the prices we are paying now? And yet the rise in our salaries does not match the cost of living in Singapore.

He who trust in Allah, have no fear

It was one of those times when crappy mood steps in because of something that happened (or didn't happen) or said earlier in the day or week, and it crept into you, into your system and made you feel like crap.

Anyway, behind my phone on my desk is this inspirational pack that I bought a year or two ago, and it was collecting dust. Precisely because it has been recycled before, and perhaps I have not been 'needing' those inspirational moments. But that day, I needed something to boost my sudden lapse of energy. I took out the cards, and move the top card behind so the next one should be the one that inspires me for the day. And if truth be told, it hit me like lightning.

"He who trust in Allah, have no fear." A verse, also known as ayat(miracle) from the Quran.

Yes, I was telling myself subconsciously. It made sense, and that is exactly what I should be doing with regards to the things that are giving me the crappy moods. Trust Allah. He Knows. He Knows Better Than You Do. He Knows Everything. Trust Him. Have Faith. He answered me immediately.

And then, I took out the book, the accompaniment with those inspirational cards, again it has been collecting dust, and I opened it. It was page 42, and it was the explanation for "He who trust in Allah, have no fear." Oh my, that gave me the sudden gush of not-exactly-goosebumps but something. That gush went straight from the book right through my hands and into my neck and bursts into my head and my whole body. I shook my head just like my little 5 months old baby shook his head when he suddenly peed or pood in his nappy. Really ... (but of course I didnt peed or pood).

His answer lies right in front of me. He assured me. And that is what I have been losing sight of. It made me feel assured that I should just put my trust in him, and almost instantaneoulsy, I felt peace. Really. It was a miracle for me.

It was like a subconscious prayer came true and came through for me. Alhamdullillah! Subhanallah! Ameen.

I yearn for these moments again.

Sunset at West Coast Park

Beautiful, Subhanallah!

Tossing and sleeping...

At about 29/30 weeks of my pregnancy, I'm feeling tired and extremely sleepy all the time. Apart from tossing between the two books - one on baby, the other on Islam and religion, I could barely digest both of them. The thing is eventhough on days that I am not fasting, I still wake up for sahur, for the sake of hubby and Afzal. After sahur and solat subuh, I zonked back on bed, if it's even for half hour just to catch up on much needed sleep eventhough I had gone to bed at 8.30 pm the night before. When I woke up, I felt like I could still go on sleeping. My shoulder is aching, and my hands and feet felt like they are in need of some kneading and moulding.

I wish my baby in my tummy is having a good night sleep too cos if he is not sleeping right, I don't know if he is sleeping tight, and I don't want his sleeplessness to affect us later.

This Ramadan, I have been struggling with my fasting, not because I cannot 'tahan' but because I fear that baby will be underweight and that I'll get another scolding from the gynae. Afzal, on the other hand, has been very good with his fasting and solat, Alhamdullillah. I'm really proud that he has been doing his solat eventhough when we were not at home to monitor him.

Eventhough it is a one week school break, Afzal still goes to school for 3 days for his conversational Mandarin lessons, and when asked what he learnt, he conveniently said he forgets. But yesterday evening, he was spouting, "wa sher ma lai ren" (I am Malay). Other than that, we gave him his Nintendo game to play with apart from his fixation with facebook and computer-related games. He has also told me to print some primary four maths problem sums. He wants to try and attempt some of it. I think he is doing rather ok with his maths, but his other subjects could further improve.

With hari raya coming, I have not done anything yet. Except for some cookies that we bought at Simpang Rengam, Johor, I have not bought other stuffs. No baju raya for me this year, as I will not fit into one and hubby has also decided to just dorn some previous years' raya outfits. Only Afzal will have a new baju kurung this year. I have also not bought the cookie containers, not gotten a mattress for the Queen size bed in the other room, not packed my bag for the hospital, not bought any baby's stuff, not even think about what to cook for raya.

I'm totally zombied this year.

Part 2 of good riddance!

I used to have loads of containers of these - containing my era in television production, even manual like the "basic television production course" when I first started my career with tv production to scripts of various dramas and variety shows, to newspaper clippings of whatever news that made it to the papers regarding the shows or the celebrities. I have since downsized my stuffs to only one container load, but I am going to get rid of this container load as well. It's time to say goodbye to my past era, and move on... as the saying goes again, "the value of me is in me, not in my stuffs"....

Goodbye to old stuffs...!

This is the first part of my 'getting rid of stuffs' - my loads of vhs tapes, in which some have turned mouldy and I am not going to be sentimental about it. These are tapes of the shows that I have produced - namely sandiwaras (yes even from sandiwara eras), Malay dramas, Fashion Unlimited, The Home Show, Anugerah, Pesta Perdana, Teater Komedi, Hari Raya Shows and the list goes on. I am going to embrace the saying that "the value of me is in me, not in my stuffs." Goodbye to old stuffs...!

Decluttering

At the little corner of my office table is my little 'pantry' corner, so- called 'hidden' by a Japanese-motif divider. Place on a round red IKEA mat are my water bottle, a mug, a small tissue box, a scented candle, a lavender body cream, a dice, a christmas gift and an empty Starbucks cappucino bottle. And I know that I don't have a need for at least five of the items to be there.

I have a little project in mind, well, not just in mind, but I have to get to doing it. I need to declutter our bedroom that has been converted into a storage room at home. You see, we don't have a storeroom so everything else that are not needed are being chucked in that room. We have halved the excess baggagge after every move from one rented house to the next but the clutter is still there. We need to make space for a queen size bed and also for the arrival of our baby number #2, so that's why the decluttering is all important.

For me, I have sentimental attachment to some of my earlier works in television that I have loads of scripts and video tapes. And I am not even sure those video tapes work anymore, but I still keep them. Another thing of value are container loads of pictures that have not found its place on photo albums. I have books - loads, on early childhood that I know will always be useful and I also have games and flashcards that I have made for my firstborn that can be used again on my second born.

My hubby, on the other hand, is a 'karung guni'. However, once he collects all the newspapers, papers, cans and whatever metal, he will recycle them. The thing is he needs 'a lot' of those things before he recycles them. So it piles up.

I have to start this weekend again to divide the items into 1) OUT (RECYCLE, DONATE, SELL, THROW) and 2) IN (will be used) 3) IN (too sentimental to throw but not very useful of now and therefore, what should I do about it?)

This weekend is gonna be a big headache! As the saying at the corner of my table beside my phone goes "Just take one step outside your self. The whole path lasts no longer than this step." Ni'matullah Wali.

I certainly hope so!

For my Father on father's day

Father's day is often so underrated compared to any other occasions. Maybe because men are less likely to remember or celebrate events.

My father, whom I affectionately call Father, is one who does not bother about such events. But sometimes he is a funny guy. Eventhough Father claims that 16th March, which is his birthday is not in the calendar, he will keep reminding us about it that we will always remember. Coincidently, there are three March babies in the family, and his birthdate coincides with my brother-in-law. So despite 16th March not being in the calendar, it has been celebrated with quite vigour.

Anyway, Father is flying to Perth this Saturday to visit my sister in her new city, so he will not be celebrating father's day wth us.

As compared to Mak who is the organiser and the budgeter (you can call Mak - minister for home affairs, finance etc) Father is the lepak King. Well, maybe he is tired, having been the sole breadwinner for 7 of us for the whole of his working life. At the same time, Father has corny humour and jokes that you would probably crinched at instead of laugh and somehow I have a strange feeling that my son is picking up that humour.

One thing about Father is that, eventhough he is strict, he is not very strict. Well, at least I think he gave me opportunities to be independent and do whatever I want. Maybe he knows that I know my limits. Eventhough I am a girl, I've never felt that Father treated me less equally than boys. Father has given me opportunities to travel alone on the aeroplane since I was 15 as far as to London. Maybe he knows that a relative will be waiting for me on the other land. He has also given me opportunities to travel to Perth, Melbourne, Christchurch as well as my Europe tour with close friends, of course on my own account but free airline tickets from him. Father is one of the pioneers with SATS.

When I wanted to resign from my producer job in Singapore because of an offer in Kuala Lumpur, Father was very supportive. Mak was concerned. She was concerned that I already had a good job here and that living in KL alone may not be such a good idea. Father told me that even if it didn't work out in KL, come back and he can still support me my basic needs. I went to KL, worked and came back. Father and mak were always there for me, in times of good and bad.

From another perspective, Father is also a very relaxed person. He would rather chill out on his bed or on mak's tasty snacks than be involved in entanglements with relatives. But I also know that he has a very sensitive soul at times.

My Father does not have a large family. Besides his late parents, he has only one elder sister who has since departed. When his own dad left his mom, she was the only person that he is affectionate with. I remembered visiting my late grandmother's grave (my Father's mom) about two or three years back and Father would talk about his mom affectionately to us with glistening eyes.

When I first got married, he even suggested to me and my husband to find an apartment in the same block so that he says, "we can always come for dinner, and that he can always look out for our kids," also with glistening eyes. We were touch by his gesture for us to be close but some decisions had to be made about our own home. Eventhough we were not in the same block, but we were never far from each other's heart.

Father has never insisted that I have to follow tradition but I know he values basic Islamic values that are not peppered with culture. He also value simple things like respect, love, humility and good company. But most importantly, he values his own family - us - a lot.

To Father, have a happy, happy father's day in Perth. May you have good health and a good life ahead of you. May Allah bless your every deed, and though I may not be able to repay you for everything that you have done for me, I am eternally grateful for you are my Father. And do remember, another soon-to-be-cucu is waiting for you here ...

Another Maid Saga...

You can't judge a book by its cover. Either I'm a poor judge of character or I would like to believe that everyone has good in them, rather than thinking that they are bad.

The maid was sent back to the agent on Sunday.

She is my second maid after my first one finished her contract and went home. This new one is 23, single, looks mild, meek and very quiet and has been working with me for nearly five months. She even wears the tudung when she goes out.

Though she is mild, meek and a very quiet tudung-wearing domestic helper, I'm begining to have doubts about her ability to retain and process information, as well as to perform some routine daily duties with a bit more meticulousness. How long should I train a new maid to get the ironing correct and smooth at least? Let's just abandon the idea of cooking for now. She can't even communicate with my son, because her personality is simply too quiet.

To cut a long story short, she has been using the handphone that is for home use and for going out with my son for her own personal use, to call a man that she is madly in love with back in her hometown. When an sms came from the man, and I was home that day, she denied vehemently that she didn't know who that was, and that was the first time such an sms came.

I called the number and told the guy on the other end that if he is not her father or her husband or her brother, and if there is nothing important, there is nothing to talk to her about.

I was angry for she has misused my personal property as well as my trust. But when I told hubby I wanted to send her back, hubby advised me to think first, as it has implications on us especially on our child care arrrangement before the next maid arrives. I can't take a transfer maid immmediately until my current one gets a new employer.

So she stayed another day on Sunday, eventhough I have asked her to pack.

On Sunday, when we went out, we reminded her to take care of the house and not go anywhere. I was still annoyed, but I know I had no choice. By the time we came back at about 1 plus in the afternoon, she was not at home. Hubby immediately said, "once she comes back, we'll send her back to the agent." We felt disbelief that this mild, meek and quiet tudung-wearing girl is daring enough to defy simple orders.

She came back 5 minutes later, and looked extremely horrified and started crying dramatically. She said she was merely downstairs buying bread as she was hungry. There was food in the house, and she needed to go down to buy bread. Her reasoning was she was afraid to eat my food which I had never, not even when I was angry, denied her of food. She dramatically bowed down to my feet to ask for forgiveness. I just told her, "I don't want this nonsense. Go and eat your bread."

We sent her back immediately. From a light backpack, hers is now full to the brim with extra plastic bag. I don't want to be picky by asking her to return the clothes that I had given her, but if I had known the truth of what she had done, I might have just done that.

She left her diary. And it contains all the details of how she had been trying to get in touch with that guy since February. The guy is not exactly her boyfriend but who she is madly in love with, and whom she had given her virginity to and finally she managed to contact him on 6 March on my handphone. And I have been fooled by her for more than 2 months and yet she was crying and denying vehemently that was the first time ever the sms came. What a load of bull!

Of mak and motherhood...

At 24, when most of my mates were tying the knot, I never had a real boyfriend.

At 25, when they started having their firstborn, my mak was worried - worried that I would never find a boyfriend, let alone a husband.

At 26, I told myself that I’ll resign to being matched if I’m still single by the time I reached 30. I guess it didn’t happen – the matchmaking that is.

I tied the knot at 27.

It was all happening so fast, and before I knew it, I was pregnant within the first month of my marriage. It was not gelojoh, as some may think, but it was my clueless attempt at using the rhythm method.

My pregnancy was not smooth sailing. The nausea that came in the evenings after work went on for nearly 80% of the 9 months I was carrying my firstborn. My energy level dived to minus degrees, and my zest for work and life was almost non-existent. My vomiting bouts made me sick and lethargic, and I was down with fever, flu and cough. I never knew pregnancy was going to make me this ‘sickly’, and I wondered how our mothers and their mothers before them did it, especially when they had many children of their own to create a football team.

Before my baby was born, I promised to breastfeed, as it has been hailed as the best thing that a mum can give her child. There are so many benefits of breastfeeding that I had read up, and even though I came across words like ‘engorgement’, it didn’t mean much until it happened to me. No one told me that breastfeeding was going to be an uphill task. The engorgement left me so sore and helplessly in pain. My baby's inability to latch or my inability to make him suck makes me felt like a failure. He was crying, and I was helpless. It was so difficult and trying. I cried. I was depressed within the first two weeks of having my first son.

It didn’t help that my baby had long crying bouts at night. He was not colic, and not even mak knew what was wrong with him. It drove everyone in the house crazy. We were sleepless with his every 15 minutes of wakefulness and constant crying. It gave hubby and me migraine from the lack of sleep. At one time, my husband nearly shook our baby and shouted at him. I was shocked at our inabilities, incapacities. It left me stoned and zombied and I was feeling how unfit we were as parents, how useless I was as a mother.

After two months at my parents’ place, we moved to our new home, hoping to start a new life. But I felt alone when hubby went to work, eventhough baby was with me. When my baby cried non-stop, and no amount of coaxing could stop him, again I felt distressed and helpless. I called mak and cried over the phone. I didn’t know what was wrong with him, and I didn’t know what to do.

After I talked to mak, I managed to calm my dear baby down, and started to calm myself down too. I called mak and told her that she did not have to come to see me. But mak and father assured me that they will visit me the next day. They did. As much as they were bewildered at first, they were also amused at what a goondu I was at something so naturally simple. Is motherhood really naturally instinctive? If it is, I do not have the genetic make-up for this.

That first hari raya with baby, as I salam my mak to kiss her hand, I caught everyone by surprise, even myself. I cried in front of mak and told her how much this whole experience taught me about mak’s experiences of being a mother and motherhood. It made me feel truly appreciative of the experiences my mak must have gone through when she was having me and all her other children. I guess you never knew how it really feel and must have felt unless you go through it yourself, experiencing all the myriad of emotions that came with being pregnant and having a child. I am blessed to have gone through it because I feel that I will be arrogant and emotionless of the feelings of a mum – struggling to manage her children and her life if I had not become a mom myself. It was truly, truly humbling and no words can describe my feelings of motherhood, and the connection with what mak might have gone through. No matter how old I am, I knew I will always be her baby because I am always in need of her wisdom, her strength, her determination, her love, her stoicness and so much more.

To mak, “Happy mother’s day, thank you for everything. I will always love you.”

A beautiful gift

I was 37 two days ago. Short of three that makes me 40. Looks like a big number eh?

But I'm happy, I supposed. Happy to be older and wiser, and as a cousin reminded me, I'm another year closer to the graveyard. Somehow, that did not give me the chill, but a nice reminder to me to be good, and do good to what could possibly be left of my time on earth.

I had a good meal with my dearest hubby and favourite son at Carousel. I used to be able to eat till I'm full but I just can't that evening. Perhaps I am happy with the company, and I am full of love given to me by the very people I care and love very much.I'm blessed.

I'm further blessed that He had bestowed me a beautiful gift - for me and my family. We are happy, we are contented, and we continually seek his blessings for the beautiful gift.

The gift of which we will announce in due course...

Be!

The positive signs are there, but I just did not want to interprete it that way...

As it stated in the Quran, if Allah says "Be!" It will be!

I guess Allah has said "Be!" to me... :)

Peace!

How time really flies...and the new year has gone for over 2 months.
How I do not feel like embracing reality...
Reality bites...
life has to go on
..in its separate paths, meandering roads, and bumpy rides...
I'm not sure
perhaps time will tell
perhaps it's part of destiny
have i done enough?
have they done enough?
or it's all God's will?

decisions, decisions, decisions
what makes a decision?
too many choices?
or too limited resources?
a case of too little too much?

this babble is not meant to make any sense
it's a composite of dispersing thoughts rummaging through my compartmentalised brain

that's what makes life interesting...and annoyingly painful...and beautiful...and the list goes on...
can't make everyone happy
make myself happy at the expense of others?
maybe, maybe some people do that just for a living

blessed by HIM in many ways, saddened by HIS facts in many ways, saddened by the acts of humankind rather - this mortal ingrate creature(s) whose thoughts are so narrow, so incapacitated, so neurotic...

why or why?
ask less, accept more, peace...

"oh my kids don't speak Malay"

I do wonder why some parents are proud of the fact that their children are not able to speak their mother tongue well. My son's ability in his written assessment and communication to his grandparents in Malay is a long way to go in being near native, but I know he will get by. I know I can do more to get him to speak Malay "like water" as in fluently and I would be a shame for myself to know of a non-Malay who could even do higher mother tongue. But when I hear remarks by some other Malay parents who seem to gloat when they say, "oh my kids don't speak/understand Malay," it's like as if they are ashamed of their own language. I do wonder the pride they have in being monolingual. Wouldn't it be advantageous to be bilingual? And especially so if it's in your native tongue? So here's a little story of a mother mouse and her mice. I hope it will make those parents think before they say those words above.

A mother mouse was with her litter of mice when they bumped into a fearsome looking cat. Immediately the little mice hid behind her in terror. Mother mouse, with all her might, tried to look strong and stare straightly at the big terrifying cat. Though her heart was beating really fast and beads of perspiration was running down her hair, she stared at the Cat with piercing eyes and then she shouted in her loudest voice, "Woof, woof!" The cat, thinking there was a dog behind her ran away as fast as it could.

The little mice were so proud of their mother and her fast thinking as they think that they couldn't have done what their mother did. So this is what their mother said,"It's always good to know a second language."

My beautiful sunset

As she looked out of the balcony one evening, she was mesmerized by the beautiful sunset. She calls out to me, "appreciate this, don't you just want to sit here all evening and watch the sun goes down?"

The golden showers of the evening ray was captivating. It was Allah's miracles, day in and day out, and yet we failed to recognise it sometimes. As I looked out of my balcony window, the sight that beholds me was beautiful but it was not mine. I can only appreciate my blessings, the blessings that He has given me - the beautiful sunset, the bird's eye view of the city below me and the gift of my sight.



As the sun glides behind the buildings, and disappear beneath the clouds, daylight dwindles, and the sky and earth were once again slowly but surely cloaked in darkness. It was time for the call of the azan. It was time for Muslims to come in prayers during that magical moment, glorifying Him for all of His blessings upon us.

The path is service of others...

"The path is service of others, not prayer beads and holy robes." Sa'di.

This reminds me of da'wah or missionary work. It is not about looking saintly but about what you can do with yourselves and your heart in the service of Allah. It calls to me, I believe, first about changing myself in my heart and in my practices before I call others.

It reminds me of my colleague, a Catholic, whose cubicle is next to me. She calls herself a "modern nun". She has decided to dedicate her life to serving her religion, abstaining from marriage like what a nun does, except she is not clothed in that manner. She is a career woman, currently reading her phD part-time, and believes in her calling, having isolated herself from her family, living with like-minded individuals in her duty to serve her God.

So when I read those words of wisdom above, I agree with what my colleague is doing -"serving her religion without robes and prayer beads" in this case without the "habit". If I were to base this to the concept of Islam, I can still be of service to Allah, and yet not deprived myself from the pleasures of being a wife and a mother, unlike her.

Allah has not given us anything more if He knows we cannot handle it. But His challenges were given to us because He knew best. As stated in the Al-Quran:-

"Allâh burdens not a person beyond his scope." Surah Al-Baqarah (2:286)

Allah has given us this life to fulfil his mission, and the promise of the garden of paradise with his mercy and love. If only we open our hearts to it.

Amin-Amin Ya Rabbal Alameen.

Seeking His blessings

It was a major wake up call…

Things that you thought would never happen to you or your family, and then it did.

I must have been deep in my slumber, too tired for my own good, only to realize how late I was.

But I believe, that if anyone is sincere in seeking the truth, he will find the truth, whether in the Quran or the Bible or the Torah. May his heart is sincere in seeking the truth, and that he finds it, and leads all of us to the truth.

I read the first chapter of the holy Al-Quran with its English translation, and Al-Fatihah has never meant so beautiful and so inspiring to me until now. It feeds my almost empty soul. By reciting the Al-Fatihah with much understanding, I now know what is that I’m asking for from my one and only Lord.

***

There were many times that I felt the unfairness of life, and especially when it impacts my personal life. There were many moments that I felt I could have it better, or even questioned why others have it easier or better than me? But I forget, there are many others who have it much worst than me. I forget the blessings that He has bestowed on me. Whether it took only a second for him to answer my prayer, or nine years, He had and will answer my prayers, but if only I did not forget to prostrate five times a day to him. I have been so forgetful, buried in my own ignorant, so how can I deserve the blessings that I am seeking from Him. But I know He has given me so much more than I could ask for, and I keep asking and asking from Him.

***

Beautiful Ramadan is calling, beautiful Ramadan is coming, and I can’t wait…I can’t wait for syaitan to be chained, and I can’t wait to perform my terawih which I had done for the first time only in the last Ramadan. It was soul-filling. I seek that He gives me strength and energy to do it again. May Ramadan brings more blessings to all of us, and may He fulfilled all our prayers especially the prayers of our mothers and mothers alike...Ameen.

Ayat-Ayat Cinta

Hubby and I watched the DVD last weekend, and lo and behold, hubby tearied during the hospital scene whereby Fahri was holding Maria's hand. [Was thinking to myself, sedih bangetke?, as usually hubby is not turn on by soappy stuff] However, I have to admit Fahri's acting (the cries), was really heartwrenching!

"It was a realistic and a good movie." Hubby said at the end of it.

I did tear myself but because I was feeling more for Aishah, the self-sacrificing wife.

At night, during our pillowtalk, I told dear hubby, "When a woman gives consent to the husband to take a second wife, it is because she wants to make him happy and make the family happy, but that does not mean, she will be happy."

As usual, hubby's response is hmmm.

The road less travelled

Robert Frost, entitled "The Road Not Taken"

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.