Friday, 19 October 2018

Why Am I So Stressed?

The best part of a tough day.
"Why are you so stressed out?"

So the past few months, my body has been acting up. Like really acting up and I pinned it on age. But it got more frequent and more things started happening to my body that it freaked me out a little bit. It started with an eye twitch on my left eye that came every other moment and it drove me up the wall. It lingered on for about 2 weeks and disappeared when I went to Taiwan and Korea. But when I returned, it came back with a vengeance. Then it escalated to headaches. I am one who very rarely gets headaches and now, I got them every other day. And then the heartburn and nausea before finally I broke out in rashes. Full blown rashes all over my body which itched like mad and saw me scoffing down antihistamines every other day. The rashes were the last straw because not only did they itch, they bled when I scratched and I feared for my beauty (I know, I'm so vain). 

I thought it was food allergies but then I did not eat anything out of the ordinary. Neither did I do anything out of the ordinary. Then I remembered a friend who had rashes due to stress and I knew the eye twitch was stress induces... could it be? It is. It was. I flared up even more after the kids drove me up the wall and I knew it was stress.

When people find out I'm a stay at home mom, they ask me "why are you so stressed?" and I realised, people who ask me this are either:

1. Not parents and have never taken care of a kid let alone TWO on their own. 
2. Parents but have the most angelic kids on the earth.
3. Parents but they have plenty of help and have not experienced a whole day of caring for the kid ALONE. 
4. They're a combo of 2 and 3. 

When I had my MIL around, I thought two is a field trip and even left the option of number 3 open. It was until she left and I was alone with two that I realised this is gonna be the most insane thing I've ever chose to do. Especially once LittleJLim started walking and being a curious little baby with no fear whatsoever. Of course, my uterus contracted and all thoughts and wants of number 3 disappeared along with it. 

So what does my day look like now and why am I so stressed? Step into my life. Let me take you on a magic carpet ride to hell. 

I wake up at 8am. I get LittleLim ready for school. I get her breakfast. I wear her shoes. I send her out with Hubbycat. 

At 9am, LittleJLim gets up. He screams for me. I take him out. I give him breakfast. I entertain him for a bit.

At 10am, I change LittleJLim and then have my coffee. I answer emails, I pay bills, I order groceries, I plan my next day, I check my to-do list, I throw laundry into the wash, I wash whatever dishes are there from the night before or the morning, and I vacuum the floor. 

At 11am, I get ready to go out. I give LittleJLim his milk and prays he takes a short nap. 

At 12pm, I leave to pick LittleLim up. I drive and pray there is no police road blocks otherwise it messes my timing and it ruins my drive. 

At 12.30pm, I arrive at LittleLim's school. I pick her up. I discuss with the teachers about progress. 

At 1pm, we have lunch. On wednesday, I send her to her mandarin class. On Thursday, her gymnastics. On those days my days are all gone waiting for her to finish her activities.

At 2pm, I get home. I get laundry and fold, iron etc. I receive groceries. I try to complete whatever I could not complete in the morning. 

At 3pm, I get the kids to nap. 

At 4pm, I'm defrosting food, preparing dinner - cutting vegetables and all that. 

At 5pm, the kids wake up. I play with them. I use my computer and chill.

At 6pm, I'm cooking dinner. 

At 7pm, I'm feeding both kids dinner. 

At 8pm, Hubbycat comes home and we eat dinner. 

At 8.30pm, LittleJLim has his bath. Then milk. Then sleep.

At 9pm, I wash the dishes and throw the rubbish.

At 9.30pm, I bathe LittleLim.

At 10pm, I put LittleLim to sleep. Clean the house when she sleeps. 

At 11pm, FINALLY some me time. Whatever I want to do.

And I call it a night. But that's not nearly the stressful part. No. The routine is working. It's freaking tiring, yes, but it's doable. I'm okay with it. I don't love it but it works. 

What is stressful is the children. Taking care of the children. It's the crazy things they do like eating their own shit, trying to kill each other and themselves, trying to ruin my expensive sound system, spilling food and drinks all over my beige couch and white walls, fighting every single minute, taking out everything after I already cleaned and leaving the mess for me to clean AGAIN... oh, it's the children that drives me insane. And trust me, there are days where I find it so hard to love these kids. There are days where I really question my ability to be a mom. Because the routine is great - but even helpers do these well. So what really sets me apart from a helper? 

My ability to love and sometimes, I really struggle with that. Because let's face it, when you're screaming at them every other minute, it's so hard to remember why you wanted them in the first place. Of course, mother's love and all that. We still do love them after the dust settles, you realise that no matter how crazy they become, you still love them because if you really had them taken away, you'll hurt like crazy. 

But yeah, that's how a tough day looks like. It's even more taxing if that mom has a newborn at home, a sick child, a super clingy kid or a rascal. And some days, they're ALL of the above. Those days feel impossible and crazy and yes, very stressful. 

So don't be condescending when a mom says she's stressed. The kids, even teenagers, are not bundles of joy and sunshine. That cute smiley baby you see on instagram, it's only 10% of the day. The other 90% is dealing with whatever crazy they come up with. 


Wednesday, 17 October 2018

The Shitty Day That Will Be Forever Hung Over My Son's Head

I did not want to remember all that has happened in the last 24 hours. I needed to rant and like most rants, I take it to Instastories because it disappears after 24 hours. *poof* and I love it because it comforts me for a little bit. I imagine my problems dissolving away after 24 hours (if only). 

And so I made a rant of my most shitty moment of being a mom on Instastory. I left it there like I usually do and went to sleep. I woke up to a whole lot of messages telling me of how my shitty story made their day less shitty, how moms could relate to my story (yay moms!), how unfortunate I was to have such a son for a son and messages of people sharing their own shit story with me. Heh! I think shit stories bring people together. LOL! 

While I wanted to forget, I had a few comments telling me I should keep it and blackmail my son when those teenage angst days come and it's a freaking brilliant suggestion! And then my best friend told me to blog it so I will forever remember the moment I literally became a shit mom. So here it is!

 Be warned, it's SHITTY and COLOURFUL. So if this is your first time reading it, please read the disclaimers before you continue. 

May NO mother, father, grandfather, grandmother or anyone who takes care of little kids ever have to experience this. SERIOUSLY.

24 hours later and I'm still traumatised. Changing his poo filled diaper today reminded me of this and made me gag. I am paranoid of letting him use pants diapers and have used tape diapers today. I still smell it in my head. And I will always hang this day over my son's head because if I cannot forget it, HE SHOULD NOT AS WELL!


Thursday, 27 September 2018

A Reflection Of My Twenties

So one month and seven days ago, I turned thirty. What is thirty like? It's really like any ordinary day in my twenties except I woke up with a splitting headache hangover one day after being thirty and I didn't even have that much to drink the night before. Making a mental note to say goodbye to my favourite drink *mmmhmmm*.

Body breakdowns aside, I've been honestly busy to the point that this post is one month too late. *laughs* Always making a point to write a birthday reflection post and this year should not be an exception, being a milestone birthday and all that. It did take me awhile to put what I wanted into words because I just couldn't find the right words and the inspiration to do so. I still haven't but I will try after reminding myself that this post is really more for me than anyone else.

My twenties was for the lack of any creativity, a journey. A journey that I would not want to change any part of. It started out messy and uncertain. I started my twenties losing my identity, my belonging and my wealth. Literally lost a lot of things and had nothing, other than a group of very close friends, my boyfriend, a few dollars in my savings account, a cat-son and my bachelor degree. I had big dreams growing up and none of them prepared me for the day I hit rock bottom.

But you know the saying, when you hit rock bottom you always have two choices - climb back up or give up. I would be lying if I said I never considered the latter. I wanted to give up one too many times but I also knew, if I did and things did not improve, I had no one else to blame but myself. And that guilt was something I knew I could not live with. So I fought.

You see that little set back in my early twenties, while difficult and depressing was the one major event where my life changed. If I had to pin point to one moment in life where I had a wake up call, it was at this juncture in my life and I am so so so so SO thankful it came in my early twenties because it set me up to where I am today.

When you have nothing, perception in life changes. Bitterness or Gratefulness. You cannot be bitter when you are grateful and you cannot be grateful if you are bitter. It's damn straightforward. One clouds your judgement and removes the colour in your life which then holds you back from the greatness you can achieve because you feel entitled to have all the good things in life but don't have. The other reminds you that everything you have is by grace and nothing in life, happiness, love, wealth and health should be taken for granted and that everything given to you can be taken away because life doesn't owe you anything. A mindset that changed my life.

My twenties forced me to be an adult. Having realised that no one is responsible for my happiness and well being on earth other than myself. That was my wake up call and it forced me to make conscious, well thought decisions not for anyone else but myself and my family. It's not easy to go against the norms and status quo, but I learnt that it doesn't matter who I anger with my decisions because they can be angry but they won't be walking my life when things go downhill. At the end of the day, my happiness and successes will always speak for themselves.

It was these two major switches in my twenties that led me to where I am today. At 30, I've accomplished more than I had dreamt of in my childhood. I see myself on the way to where I am supposed to be. I tried running away in my twenties but God always knows what is best and I always hold on to the promise that He will always protect my heart. And 30 years, He still has my heart in His hands, protected and safe. Even in bad times, when my life is falling apart, I may cry tears of sorrow but I've never once lost my peace. And if there is one thing I know in life, peace is worth more than wealth or health or happiness.

Hi thirty year old Ally. I'm excited for you.

Wednesday, 25 July 2018

LittleLim's First School Concert

I remember my first school concert. I don't remember the music, the crowd, my classmates or even the place but I remember I was wearing a Hawaiian costume complete with rainbow raffia string skirt, a purple cloth bandeau top and paper flower garlands on my neck, wrists and ankles. I remember my mom helping me apply my make up in the morning at home - a blue eyeshadow, super pink blush and red lipstick. I remember my dad taking all the photos he can. I remember my parents walking me backstage where I would be with my friends in line waiting for our turn. I remember after the dance my father and mother coming to pick me up smiling at me. I remember the one photo with my mother by the stage which is still clear as day in my head today. 

What I didn't know was how proud they were feeling that day. I didn't know how much that dance meant to them. I didn't know how sad it would make them feel seeing their firstborn on stage because it meant that she was growing up, taking a bold step into the world, without needing them by her side anymore. I didn't know how bittersweet it felt.... until I was in their shoes 2 weeks ago. 

LittleLim's concert was 2 weeks ago where she would be a little butterfly fairy dancing to a song titled "The Tiki Tiki Room". She and her classmates have been practicing for months now and over the period leading up to the day, she would always tell me "chicky chicky roll" and I wondered if she was playing a chicken. Clearly she and I weren't on the same page until 2 days before the concert when I saw her costume.

That morning, I got up early and dressed her in her outfit. Memories of my school play came rushing back. As I was putting on her makeup, I remembered my mom putting on mine except for blue eyeshadow, we settled for a muted pink blush, highlights and lipgloss. LittleLim loved the make up and felt so special because on normal days I would not let her near my makeup. Today was different. Daddy was just as excited, preparing the camera, making sure the batteries were all charged up and even bought her a bouquet of flowers to congratulate her after the dance. 

As we got nearer to the venue of the concert, LittleLim grew more excited. When she saw her friends she proudly introduced them to us. "This is Jack, Ashlynn, Jasmine...." she would say as we said hello to their parents. We got our seats and set up the camera. And then it started. LittleLim's class was called on to stage and there was our little butterfly fairy confidently walking on to the stage herself refusing to hold her teacher's hand, waving towards the audience. No sign of stage fright or fear as expected of our little miss independent. She danced as practiced and followed the teacher well. She remembered most of the steps and even where to stand. She did well on her own. I was so proud and a tear (or two or three) may have escaped my eye. 

That's when I realised, LittleLim will remember the make up, the song, the dance, the costume and us gushing over her but she will not know how proud it made us feel to see our child up on stage. She will not know how it's a little bit sad to see her on her own without us, a glimpse of the future. She will not know how it's just a little bit daunting to know how fast time passes and how her growing up feels too soon. But it's okay, because to her, she will remember her parents were there for her, cheering her on just as I have always remembered both my dad and mom was there for mine. To her she will remember how much fun it was and how much love we have for her. And one day when it's her turn to sit in on her child's concert, she too will understand that this day is special for both herself and her child, maybe just a little bit more special for her.


Friday, 20 July 2018

I Am An Embarrassment

Growing up people told me that women should learn to be domesticated. Take care of the home, get married and have kids, take care of said kids. I would scoff and laugh and say "I don't want to get married, I don't want kids. I want to climb the corporate ladder." They shook their heads in disappointment. When I got married at 24, my husband was doing all the cooking because his wife didn't know how to cook. They said "he is suffering because of your lack of culinary skill." 

Shame on me! Shame on me for wanting to be successful. Shame on me for wanting a career. Shame on me for not being domesticated. Shame on me for believing that both men and women can clean the house, cook the meals and do all the things was once only a "woman's job". Shame on me for being a disgrace to my parents because I can't take care of my husband. 

So I became an embarrassment to women folk everywhere.

At the same time, I once wrote a post on how I was a proud Stay-At-Home-Mom and got an anonymous email telling me I was an "embarrassment to women who fought for our freedom". Apparently I had made the feministic fight all for vain and that the women before me who fought for my choice to work were all for nothing because I chose to stay home and be with my kids. 

Shame on me! Shame on me for choosing to be a mom! Shame on me for choosing to give up on my dream to have career just so that I can be "in the place where women were once enslaved in- the home, the kitchen". Shame on me for putting my children, my husband and their happiness over what could have been my successful job. Shame on me for being a "typical woman" doing "typical woman things" and living the scripted life. 

So I became an embarrassment to women again. 

Someone told me I looked "too shabby" in my mom-bun, baggy Uniqlo pants and buttoned up shirt with no make up on. Mind you I was 3 months post baby with my mom-pouch and a whole lot of postpartum hormones and insecurities, but that didn't matter. They said that if I didn't look good my husband would get bored and leave me if I didn't know how to dress up for him. 

Shame on me! Shame on me for not taking care of myself. Shame on me for not controlling myself and whipping my body back into shape right away. Shame on me for letting go and focusing on everyone else. Shame on me for forgetting to put on my eyebrows and lipstick and instead remembered to feed the baby, send my husband off with a kiss and welcomed him home with dinner, shame on me for doing all of that instead of looking presentable. 

So I became an embarrassment to my husband. 

My daughter and I were having a picnic. We had some chips, biscuits and a Pepsi, non of that no GMO, organic stuff because I can't care less and we were on holiday. A lady whom I have never met before came up to us and told me off because "kids shouldn't be eating these rubbish and that I was going to give her cancer. I was a lousy mom for even having these things in my bag." 

Shame on me! Shame on me for giving my child food. Shame on me for giving my kid happy food and creating fond memories together. Shame on me for indulging my child. Shame on me for all the cancerous food I've been giving her. Shame on me for being happy that my child is eating, while not the healthiest of food, she was still eating. Shame on me.

So I became an embarrassment to mothers everywhere. 

My daughter was at a toy shop and someone offered her a doll. "NO! I want the toy gun!" the husband and I chuckled. So cute right? We let our kids decide what to play as toys are always "genderless" to us. We were having dinner with our daughter and she said "daddy! I don't want rice. I want noodles". Yes, we let her choose what she wants to eat, we let her choose what she wants to do and most of all, we let her have autonomy over her self and body. A moment later, I kissed my son and told him proudly "I love you!". 

"You shouldn't let your girl play with guns! They're for boys! She's going to be a violent wife one day!" "Children should eat whatever is on their plate! Don't give them a say! Not when they're so young!" "Don't baby your son. Don't tell them you love them out loud as they will go soft. Show them you love them, you don't have to say it!" came the advice. 

Shame on me! Shame on me for believing that children should be respected and taught that they can be whoever they want to be. Shame on me for giving girls boy toys and boys girl toys. Shame on me for not making a stand and letting my children to be their own person. Shame on me for telling them I love them, for reminding them that I am their mother, for being vocal about my love. Shame on me for giving them confidence and security. 

So I became an embarrassment to my children. 

And then I realised, shame on me for choosing to be me. For believing that I am a woman who can do everything, anything and be anyone she wants to be in her own way, own rules and own life. Shame on me for believing that I was my own person, for being brave enough to be myself and for breaking the norms. Shame on me for wanting to find my voice and to be my own person. Because shame on me for wanting to be happy my own way. 

I realised that regardless of what I do, no matter how I do it and why I do it - I will always be an embarrassment. So instead of feeling guilty, sad and insecure about not being perfect, I embrace my embarrassment status. So what if I am an embarrassment?

The other day my daughter came up to me and told me I love playing with the boys. They said that I can't play with them because I am a girl but I played with them anyways. I smiled to myself. This is why I continue to be an embarrassment and this is why I still do what I do regardless of the shame. It's for my children. They know what it means to be strong, to have a voice, to decided the way to live and to do so without shame. They know what it means to push through the embarrassment and to make decisions to be the people they think they are meant to be. 

So look at me. Look at my children. 
I may be an embarrassment but I am strong, brave and proud of myself.


Saturday, 14 July 2018

"Great Kids" and Why I Don't Really Care

There's this thing about parenthood that I have been exposed to - raising great kids. Now, if you're like me and you question everything, then your first questions isn't HOW but WHAT. To be more precise, WHAT DEFINES A GREAT KID? Education? Independence? Wealth? Speed? Oh, enlighten me please. 

Everyone wants the greatest kid and there are so many articles on achieving this. So many rules. So many observations, scientific facts, studies - all in the aim of getting that great kid. (Whatever that means)

I'm just going to put it out there - I don't really care. LittleLim isn't the smartest or fastest. She isn't a prodigy (not that I know of as of now, 2018) and neither is she some genius because at 3.5 years old, she still gets confused between A and E, doesn't know how to read and cannot tell the difference between 3 and 8. I'm not going to lie, it gets frustrating when people start questioning me and my parenting methods. It gets worrying when people show concern about the lack of skill my child has especially when they start comparing with other kids. And then, the insecurity sets in when I, myself start comparing my child. 

But every time I find myself falling into the "Asian Trap" and when I start finding myself becoming that "Tiger Mom" I take a step back and remind myself again of the main question, WHAT IS A GREAT KID? Because it really that serious if she doesn't know how to read Cat, Bat and Hat? Is it really that serious if she can't differentiate 1 and 5? Is it really that serious that she doesn't know how to express herself with words? Is it really that serious that she needs you to help her go to the toilet? Not forgetting that she is just three and a half years old? Are these things that she isn't so great at (yet) so serious that it diminishes her "greatness" whatever this greatness is? How about the things she IS good at? Shouldn't those count as well? And they should!

But more so, what is greatness? Till today, I still question greatness and what it takes to be called "one of the greats". I never got it in adults and I certainly do not get it in children. Sure be a pioneer, change the world, be the richest, make the most friends, be the youngest billionaire - good for you. But to be called great, I don't think so. Great is like perfection - unattainable. At least to me. Because to be great you need perfection and to be perfect, you have to be GOD. And well, if adults can't reach god level, I doubt our children can. 

So here we are - I don't care for great kids. I don't care if they never achieve "greatness" because greatness doesn't exist in my books. Greatness is too vague, too empty and yet so limiting. To be great at something, everything means you have to be the best and that leaves little room to fail. I want my kids to fail. To try and fail. Fail and learn. Learn and succeed. I want them to take their time, figure themselves out, use their imperfections to push what they're good at, build good character and above all, to never limit themselves to terms and expectations.

But more important, I want them to run their own race instead of comparing themselves with others and then feeling less than adequate. I want them to achieve their own goals and instead of wanting to be like someone else. I want them to know that just because someone is the youngest billionaire or the youngest violinist or the best gymnast - I want them to know that it doesn't make them any lesser for not being those things. 

Afterall, when we all die, none of those things matter anyways. So really, bringing up my kids for me, what it really comes down to is character, attitude, principles and beliefs. Because everything else just dies when you die. And when you die... who really cares. 


Sunday, 1 July 2018

Lim Siblings

Just like that BabyJ is 12 months old, one year. Still wrapping my head around the fact that it's been one full year since I had the privilege of having a son. In that one year, LittleLim had a brother. One year of sibling hood.  It's so easy to separate the two, so easy to talk about one kid but I realised that speaking about BOTH my kids are just as amazing. 

Siblinghood hasn't always been easy for LittleLim. My daughter is a tough one to crack. She's possessive, territorial, fierce and not so generous when it comes to what is hers and definitely us, her parents. So having a brother (whom she didn't ask for) suddenly invade her life hasn't always been fun. While I love my kids to be all lovey dovey and nice, I understand the pain of having another person invade your life and take what you thought would be yours forever. Especially someone like my daughter, I get her because... I am her. My daughter is the replicate of me, a literal mini me. Not just in terms of physical aspects but right down to character and personality. It is because of this, I know how she feels. People say "she doesn't understand" or "force her to be nice" but I know it won't work. If anything it will be the wedge that drives her away, it will be one thing that would cause her to hate her brother. And I know it very well. So I did the one thing I know is best, give her space, time and freedom. 

Space to process and adjust to the new changes, the new sibling, the new "invader". Space that she can be safe in and call her own. In that space, we let her have autonomy. She can decide whether to allow her brother in or not. Space where she gets to be dictator and where she can be as territorial and possessive. We managed our expectations and we knew that it would definitely take time for our daughter to accept that she now has to share mommy and daddy. Of course, when we were pregnant we did our part in explaining to her about having a brother and what we expected of her. But we also knew that it would take time for her to know this new person entering her life. And lastly, freedom. As I said, I refused to be the kind of parent who forces siblings to share, protect each other, be nice to each other etc. I refuse because that is not a responsibility I want to put on a young child as LittleLim. I want her to choose to do all these things herself, for her to do it out of love and not obligation and definitely not because it's "societal standards". I refuse to do that because I hated it as a child and I hated being forced to take care of my sibling. It's something I refuse to put LittleLim through and like it or not, my son will also have to learn how to fight his own battles and not depend on his sister to come rescue him all the time. 

I know my daughter well and I'm glad I did what I did. Today, these two are closer than ever. It makes me smile whenever I see the both of them together and I see how protective LittleLim is over her brother. A protectiveness that I did not force her to do nor told her about. A protectiveness that come out because she has accepted him as her own, as family, her brother. A protectiveness that comes because she really loves him. Of course it isn't always fun especially when the little brother doesn't understand "wait your turn" or how to follow his big sister's instructions. A few fights is sure to follow, but I always make it a point to never interrupt unless it gets violent. But it does make me so happy whenever LittleLim comforts BabyJ when he's upset, when LittleLim sits in his crib with him and plays with him, when LittleLim shouts "hugging time" and smothers him with hugs and kisses, when LittleLim is concern about her brother and tries to make him as comfortable as possible, when she brings her toys to him so he can play with them too and of course not forgetting BabyJ and his love for his sister. At 8 months, his first words were "jiejie", he smiles whenever LittleLim enters his vision, he gets so excited when LittleLim is nearby, he laughs so hard when she plays peekaboo with him... it's moments like these that comforts me and reaffirms that my methods work. 

But again, it's only because I know my children and I know myself. You do you.

Tuesday, 22 May 2018

More Than Just #littlelimootd Photos

So LittleLim has been going to pre-school for a year now! School is great, she loves it and we love it. We are a little bit spoiled in this area - LittleLim's school is one of the best. Good teachers, good procedures, good security and good safety processes. It was hard for anyone to come and kidnap LittleLim because of the school's procedures and pick up points. Yes, Hubbycat made sure that location was just as important factor when choosing a pre-school for LittleLim. Naturally, I didn't have any fears of anything unbecoming coming towards LittleLim. That is until one evening, after talking to Hubbycat, I realised how unprepared I am if anything happened to LittleLim. 

While nothing could happen in the school compound, anything could happen outside of school. Outside when we're walking towards our car. Outside when we go for lunch after school. What if something happened to LittleLim? What if someone took LittleLim? Am I prepared? That's when I realised that I would have failed the first instance Police asked me questions. What is she wearing? How tall is she? What does she look like? 

The best way I realised is to have photos of her. Current photos and with modern technology, you can get REAL DAY photos. Which is why every morning before I walk in to school, I take a photo of LittleLim. Regardless if we are late or in a rush, regardless if people are waiting for me, regardless if I have an audience - I snap a photo. That way, I would be able to give informed answers and the Police would have a current up-to-date photo as a reference. On top of that, every month I write her weight and height in a piece of paper and place it in my wallet.

Sometimes I do feel like a super paranoid mom, but I also believe it's better to be paranoid and prepared than not at all. On top of that, I tell LittleLim to always note her surroundings whenever we are out. Observe people, observe things, observe your surroundings and if anything feels out of place, let us know. Sometimes we make a game out of it with "I Spy" and sometimes she tells me things that slipped my observation. 

Of course, now that I have a months worth of pictures in my phone, it's nice to look back at all the outfits she's worn this month and in the long run, I would be able to notice her growth on film. Sometimes I hate that I have to prepare for these things but I realised that regardless how "safe" it maybe, it never hurts to be prepared. 


Wednesday, 9 May 2018

Ini Malaysiaku

"This is my Malaysia". Sometimes it's so hard to focus on the good of this country. I won't lie that there are times where I just prefer to live in my perfect world and hide away from the ugliness that tries to penetrate my defence shield. It's hard when words such as corruption, crime, cronyism and and "masalah masyarakat" is heard everyday. Ask any citizen and they will have a thing or two to say about what is wrong with the country. I won't lie that there are times where I feel like Thanos (sorry, I just watched Avengers so I'm going to be using this as an analogy) and feel like this country does need a "wipe out". Whether harsh or ethical, it's besides the point after all I betcha Thanos doesn't care either. 

But in moments of fighting between which part is better suited, which is the lesser evil, which is the safer choice and all that - you see humanity rise up. You see people holding on to each other and helping each other. As I was going to vote, I saw people, like myself stepping up above their call of duty. No barriers of race, religion or party they support. No barriers of who is better and who is not. Just human beings trying to help smooth processes. 

I mean no one really knows which party or who you've voted for. No one. So to see human beings treat other human beings with respect and dignity, coming together to make things work and all with the same agenda - a better Malaysia. That's the Malaysia I know and want. 

The Malaysia I know was what I saw today as I cast my votes. People helping each other, people being civil and polite, people stepping up above their call of duty to get things done and to make life easier for others even if it means they have to sacrifice something of their own and people who have no other intentions other than helping a fellow citizen out. 

Inilah Malaysiaku. Malaysiaku yang saling memahami, saling tolong-menolong dan saling menghormati satu sama lain. 

Because the fight isn't over regardless of which party wins. The fight has barely begun. Trust me that no matter who wins, there is still a lot more to do. There is no "my country your country. There is only, our country. 

Our Country, Malaysia.


Friday, 4 May 2018

First Mommy-Daughter Date


I've waited all my life for a day like today. Only difference is I always imagined it would be with my son and not my daughter. I always wanted a son. I never saw girls in my future. But God, again, knew me better. I finally had a mommy daughter date with LittleLim. Funny it took a turn of events to get here because if it was up to me, I would never have tried it. Ever since LittleLim went into her toddler, cannot sit still, disobedient phase, I really dread whenever I have to take her out alone. Haha. I always worry I would go wrong and lose her if it's just the both of us. Drama I tell you. But that Monday, I had no choice. Fate said today you will date your daughter. Haha.

I followed Hubbycat to pick LittleLim up because I was in office and no one else was around to take me pick her up (I usually don't drive to office). Hubbycat had a meeting nearby and so I followed him and then we separated. He went for his meeting while LittleLim and I went on our own. 

It was soooo much fun. My baby is now a young lady 😭 I bought the coffee, she chose her drink and food. Then I got the table, set down the tray and she picked my plate. "This is yours, this is mine." As she placed my doughnut in front of me and took her own sausages. Teachers, you taught her well! I am eternally grateful. Haha. Talked to her a bit, listened to her tell me about her classmates, her Onion plant and what she ate today 🤣 then she proceeded to doing silly antics and it was so funny watching her have fun.


It was amazing. I didn't have to raise my voice, no threats or bribes and no meltdowns. She did walk around the table but knew not to be more than an earshot away. Hehe. Strangers approached her she would run right beside me. It was a dream come true. Of course, sandman came and ruined our fun. Because shortly after, koalamelia came and crankiness set in.