A (hardly) funny story

So leading up to June 25, I was getting pensive. The husband clearly didn't remember that special date. He went about his busy routine with nary an acknowledgement. And I guess, after 15 years, you forget.

A day before that date, I pulled myself together, made my way to the mall to buy him a present and brought the kids along as they were on the tail end of their school holidays. They wanted to know why we were buying a present and I told them it's for our wedding anniversary. Then they wanted to know what their daddy was buying me and I said, well, I don't know and even if he didn't it would be OK because I don't expect anything back from giving this gift. My verbalised self-righteousness was lost on the kids as they went "really?" and quickly helped me choose a gift.

All this time, I was telling myself, give a gift because you want to and it would please God, not because you want something back. I repeated that mantra all the way home. June 24 night, he said nothing. I tried to fight back tears.

As I woke up for fajar the next day, I left my gift on his beside table and went about my routine. I came back to the room and saw the gift gone from his table. He came out of the shower and said "Hey, thanks for the present!", a wide grin across his face. I gave him a glare and said "You're most welcome." He got confused and asked, "What's the occasion?"

I had to control myself from crying and in my most caustic tone said, "Oh, nothing. Just that it's our 15th anniversary. No biggie, really."

Him: "Huh? But it's not today, sayang. You forgot our wedding date?"

I couldn't believe he not only forgot our wedding anniversary, he is now saying I am WRONG? The cheek he has!

Me: "I didn't forget, you did. And now you are trying to shift the blame on me."

Him: "I know I'm right. Let's check right now. That drawer, the marriage certificate is in that drawer."

Me: "Yes I know where it is because I put it there, thankyouverymuch."

I made my way to the drawer, indignant that I had to prove the very date he promised to love and care for me for the rest of his life. I looked at the certificate and said, "See?? It says June 29! Oh."

Him: "And today's June 25."

Me: "Oh. Hmm. OK but we've been married for 15 years and you were going to forget that fact, too."

Him: "No, we'd be married for 14 years by then."

As I was doing the mental math with me eyes probably darting left to right in a systematic fashion, the husband counted the number of years on his fingers and used mine for the additional four fingers he needed. I hate being wrong.

But I love being married for 14 years on June 25, I mean June 29.

Attention!

I was that startled when he mentioned he hasn't seen the pair of shoes before (which I bought a couple of weeks ago and was going to put them on this morning). Or that he noticed there was a new top I had in my wardrobe. What next?? Oh this is too much for my heart!

We like to move it move it

And moving is exactly what we are doing today and tomorrow, insha Allah.

Feels strange to be surrounded by boxes. I took a look at the number of boxes and was shocked to see how much we've accumulated all these years. Some of the lighter and smaller boxes we've carted almost every evening to the new house because, you know, we are excited like that. I was (still am, at the point of writing this) the last person to pack my clothes. Having said that, I have packed *some* of my clothes and the husband and kids have brought them to the new house.

The strange thing is, even though we are moving to a bigger house and the wardrobe I am sharing with the husband is larger, I think we have run out of space as we've filled that wardrobe and we still have more to bring. And this is *after* I have thrown out clothes that have *ahem* shrunk in size.

Today is the deadline for me to pack my shoes. Not that I have plenty but still, I've been advised to only bring with me what I would actually wear. Hmmmm.

To dispel what would otherwise be an impression of my being disorganised, you would be pleased to know that I have arranged for the new house to have internet connection. We can surf the internet in that house right now, if we wanted to. And cable TV will be installed in the next few days. The guys who are helping me set up the wireless connection are also coming by the end of the week. Impressive, I know. You're welcome.

The husband and the helper have been doing all the heavy lifting because you know, I am delicate, like that. Nonetheless, I have been very supportive of their heavy lifting by staying out of their way.

And so tonight, we will bid our current home fare-thee-well. It housed many memories for all of us and we are sad to leave. But we are also excited to have new happy memories in the new home, insha Allah.

Today...

...we mark 13 years of togetherness. Alhamdulillah.

Picture from here.

What I've been up to...

We drove up to Terengganu, attended a wedding, went to the waterfall and went stir crazy shopping at the local market that is filled with songket and batik. Because I plan ahead and the husband was paying, I bought clothes for next Eid for the girls and some other stuff for the home. The two boys can then match their outfit for next Eid based on what us three girls decide. What, you haven't heard of strength in numbers?

We were home after four days and work continued until last weekend when we hosted 24 (yes, that's right, twenty four) people at our house in Melaka. These are the folks who attend the halaqah we host weekly and their family members. It was chaotic and I was super worried that the guests won't be comfortable - they couldn't get rooms in hotels because there were too many Singaporeans who decided they would weekend in Melaka as well! It was fun but tiring.

The result of an overload of socialising is of course tiredness and body aches. I sure hope I don't collapse during the Christmas break because whilst I want to do absolute nothing and go nowhere, it doesn't mean I want to be confined to my bed feeling miserable and crabby.

Speaking of Christmas break, I have also booked some (halal) Christmassy food. The husband is an unrepentant carnivore so the sight of roast beef was too good to resist. I'll be making salad with cranberry and almond flakes with some mango vinagrette (anyone has a good recipe to offer?). The occasion? Just because it's time to chill out with the people who matter most.

Do you love me?

Do you often ask your husband (or wife, or partner) if he/she loves you? I ask that question to the husband often. In fact, very often. (Too often, he might say, if you asked him). And why do I ask? It's because I know he usually clams up and it cracks me up to see him all flustered to come up with something nice and original. He sells industrial chemical for a living, so he's not exactly a poet. But now, he's come up with an answer that stunned me! And everytime I ask that question, he gives me the same answer! Gaah, now I have to come up with something else to baffle him!

So I have thought of another question to ask him. How MUCH do you love me? Heee. Try that one on for size!

In other news, I am quite upset that my all-time favourite childhood candy is now banned in Singapore. I don't drink milk but I used to love eating the White Rabbit candy. Goodbye sweet White Rabbit. Till the time your milk source is verified safe, we will miss you.

PS: This post has been edited because some sentences did not make sense. I have learnt an important lesson. Don't write when you are in a conference call and falling asleep at the same time.

Unchartered territory

I am getting the baking itch. I know, those of you who know me in real life are probably speechless by that comment. I have baked in the past. The results of which are quite embarrassing and could be used against me in the court of law.

Notwithstanding potential failure and possible food poisoning, I ventured on to *try* to make strawberry cheesecake a few days ago. But it was, you should know, at the behest of Farah. She thinks baking is a piece of cake, pun fully intended. And she can't understand why this household has no oven or mixer. Stuff she could easily access when she's doing her baking and cooking class at school.

I have to constantly remind her that my mother was passive aggressive and decided that I should be learning how to make a wooden door wedge and drill holes in metal sheets instead of learning how to bake and sew, when I was her age.

I digress, so back to that cheesecake story now. I've tried making it before - actually many years ago, from *don't laugh* a recipe I found on the internet *I said don't laugh!*. And it turned out oookaaay... edible at least. My kids, being easily impressed thought I was rocking it as a cheesecake maker and so Farah was pining for one.

We went to the supermarket to get the ingredients. It was funny because I have forgotten half the ingredients and so was guided by my erm gut. I forgot what biscuits I needed for the base, but heck, thought Digestives might do the trick. Halfway through shopping at the supermarket, I showed the kids Sara Lee's ready made cheesecake and tempted them with it. No go, the kids were adamant about seeing me repeat the miraculous feat I showcased years ago. Sigh.

We got home with everything that I *think* we needed. We made the base although we didnt have enough butter. Farah said she wanted to do the jelly topping, so she cooked the jelly but forgot to add sugar. Sara and Danial got more cream cheese on the floor than in the bowl. You see where I'm heading with this?

Long story short, we completed it anyways. It looked really good because of the fresh strawberry lined up on top of the cake, covered by clear jelly. The husband was suitably impressed by the looks of it. He didn't want to be the first to try it though.

The kids were so psyched about having it. They couldn't wait long enough. Farah had two helpings (although she couldn't finish her seconds) and everyone else cleaned their plate. The husband had a polite serving - on the pretext of watching his diet, yeah right mister - and reserved comments. I praised the kids for their help and for their wonderful creation. That was the trick I think. Get them involved, get them to own the whole process. Only then will they eat anything that I would ever bake or make.

And of course, I am now very encouraged to try OTHER recipes that are oh-so-easily found on the wonderful world of web. But I think I might need to get that oven and mixer...

We did it

We came, we walked, we saw and we went home. We completed the stretch within 2 hours, amidst the kids complaining about how they were tired of walking, thirsty and bored because everyone was selling the same thing throughout that kilometre stretch or so.

The only redeeming factor is I finally got my new baju kurung. At S$280, it is expensive but everything else was either too tight, too loud or too glittery. I kept telling the husband that I could get myself the same thing for a fraction of that price if we shopped in Melaka. But of course, he gently reminded me that we weren't going to go to Melaka this month and Shawal is but merely 15 days away.

I would have been quite happy to wear my clothes from last year, but I don't know, the husband insisted and since he's paying, I relented ;)

It's a secret!

The husband celebrates his 38th birthday today. Two weeks ago, the kids and I bought him a present. It was a calculated risk on my part because my kids are hopeless at keeping secrets. I think they take us too seriously when we told them there shouldn't be any secrets between us.

So two weeks ago, they came with me to an Osim store and because I already knew what I wanted to get him, I brought the kids to the store to try out the massage chairs. We decided on one, paid and made delivery arrangements. I wanted it to be a real surprise so I told the kids to keep it a secret from him.

The first week was easy enough for the kids to keep it quiet because the husband was gone for the most part in various exotic locations (namely India, but that's only exotic if you haven't been there). (And I don't mean that in a bad way.) (Coz I love India and Indian food, seriously).

The second week, our most likely person to squeal - and she is five years old - was duly distracted by other stuff going on in her busy life that she has moved the gift to somewhere far into her mind. However, on Sunday, it came back to her.

We were grocery shopping and we passed by the same Osim outlet. She was sitting in the shopping trolley with the husband pushing the trolley. Her eyes lit up when she saw the shop - you just have to read the rest of it in first-hand account.

Sara: (with body turned towards the Osim outlet and finger pointing) Daddy! Close your eyes and don't look! We bought your birthday present from this shop!

Farah: Hey! Why did you tell Daddy that?? Now he knows we bought him a massage chair! Coz all they ever sell there are massage chairs!

Danial: But at least he wouldn't know we selected the brown chair!

It all happened in a split second. After I collected my jaw from the floor, the husband broke into peals of laughter, he just simply could not believe his ears (neither could I) and he could not believe his luck either. So the secret is out and needless to say, the husband is really pleased with the present he's getting.

Someone should script this.

Money talks

After the husband's parents came to meet my parents in the traditional way of seeking their approval in asking for my hand in marriage, my mother came up to me with a few worldly wise advice.

The first thing she told me was that I needed to improve on a lot of things in preparation for my being someone's wife. The reality is I can't cook for nuts although I do a very mean job of cleaning the house. Clearly, that was not going to cut it. According to her, the way to a man's heart is via his stomach, and you can only do that with good food, not with a toilet brush or Clorox.

So besides having to learn how to cook - she had given up on teaching me how to bake; sometimes you just have to know and accept your limitations, no? - she gave me a long talk about how I need to ensure I am financially independent. So the subtle nuance behind that last advice is, whatever you do, do not freaking stop working. Coming from a housewife, it makes you sit up and listen and be all confused all at the same time.

Anyways, I never stopped working. Not because I didn't want to be dependent financially, but also because I like my job. And it makes it more crucial for me to continue working now because my parents depend on me.

The third advice she had for me, was that I need to make sure I have a secret stash of money that no one else knows about including the spouse. This is to be called the Rainy Day fund. Others call it the slush fund. She reckons this is really necessary to set aside because you never know when you'll need it. And I believe she wasn't talking about needing it for a new handbag.

Then I read this story.

The husband and I share various bank accounts. I maintain a couple of accounts myself and so does he. But we are very open to sharing how much or little we have.

I have since learnt that many of my girlfriends think that too much sharing of that kind of information is not a good idea. They agree with my mother, in that all women need to have their secret squirrel savings account that is so secret even their husband or partner don't know it exists. I also have friends whose husband don't really know how much they earn every month; likewise they don't know how much their husband brings home. They only need to know that every bill is either split up between them and the rest is, well, better left unknown.

I'm beginning to feel like a freak because amongst all my friends, I'm the only who believes you need to completely remove your kimono when you get married. There should be no secrets. I don't see why you need to keep things away from each other when you have already promised the rest of your life with the other person. Maybe I am a freak. And naive.

But I know I would be darn hurt if I ever found out the husband had his slush fund kept away somewhere. Because I could sure use that money for that other handbag I've been eyeing.

Kate, who?

The husband, he's a very practical and pragmatic guy. Although he has surprised me with flowers every now and then, he is not big on spontaneity in terms of presents for me or the kids. So when our wedding anniversary was a week away, he started getting nervous thinking about what to get me. I didn't help the matter because I had told him his present is all wrapped up and was hidden somewhere in the house.

Three days before our anniversary, and as we were winding down after a long day, he took a very deep breath and told me with such a serious look on his face that he didn't know what to get me. He told me he's spent many hours in between meetings, just circling around different malls trying to decide what I would like. And after the fourth mall, he's given up because he just didn't want to risk buying something that I might not like. How can you not love this man?

So, it was up to me to either tell him what I want (and then risk that he might not get it right) or choose my own present and charge it to his card (and risk that I might do some serious damage to his card).

Last Friday I went around a nearby mall and was looking at some charm bracelets and a couple of handbags. When lo and behold, I saw the handbag I like and it was on sale! That is such a win-win situation, don't you think?

I quickly called the husband who was in Jakarta and told him about the Kate Spade handbag and we had this weird conversation:

Me: I'd like a new handbag for my present. Could I charge it to your card?
Him: Yes, sure if it's something that you really like. *static*
Me: I love it. It's on sale and it's Kate Spade.
Him: *static* it's a *static* *static*
Me: I'm going to buy it now, okay? I'm at the mall.
Him: *static* *static* - line goes dead

Thanks to the lousy mobile connections to Jakarta, I had a signed blank cheque as far as I was concerned!

He came home the next day and asked to see what "he has bought" for me. I showed him the handbag and he said it was a darn good deal. We were mighty pleased with ourselves.

And then he asked me, "So who is this Kate you were talking about?"

And the reason...

...for all my dreamy-ness is that I was counting down to our wedding anniversary. We celebrated 12 years of togetherness yesterday. We've been blessed and we thank Allah for the gifts that have been bestowed on us both.

The return of...

We caught the Jet Li and Jackie Chan movie (Forbidden Kingdom) over the weekend. We were supposed to watch the movie together with the Bhutias this coming weekend but they cancelled on us *evil glare* because Mrs Bhutia had work to complete. But anyway, we have forgiven her and we've made plans for the upcoming school holidays for us to get together with the kiddies.

Back to the movie. It was the suck. The plot was wafer thin and predictable, the script was weird and the acting was bad. The husband who is a big Jackie Chan's fan and has caught every Chinese and English movie he's ever in, was telling me how disappointed he is with the movie. Enough said.

Before the movie started, we caught the trailers to the new Indiana Jones. Isn't Harrison Ford like a hundred years old now? And it seems like all the old fogeys are making comeback movies. I can think of Sylvester Stallone in the latest Rambo movie (which I thought was quite good), and then there's Bruce Willis' Die Hard number 234352 movie and now Indiana Jones.

Anyway, the husband is now inspired to make his own comeback. And since he's more a rugby player than a movie star, he was refering to competitive rugby, of course. Being the supportive wife that I am, I had to give him an incredulous look and shook my head. He still sounded determined so I don't think my lack of support is a deterrent to him. So, perhaps, in the near future, there will be more posts on rugby and being a rugby widow. Sigh.

Well, excuse us please

The husband and I have been going over to his aunt's for tahlil (prayer session). And everytime the few of our family members are about to get started with it, we get people coming over to visit. It's been three days but they are still getting a steady stream of visitors who have just heard about nenek passing on. Nenek used to live in the kampong (village) and had many neighbours who became friends who became as close as relatives.

So, some of them were quite miffed that they were not told earlier about her passing away. And for some strange reasons, the duty of telling all and sundry fell upon the husband's shoulders. Not that he knew it was his duty, in the middle of working through the paperwork at the hospital and notifying the relevant authorities and family members.

Anyways, last night at the aunt's, we got a visit from a family friend who came over and proceeded to tell everyone how upset he was that he couldn't see nenek for the last time because the husband didn't call him. I was thisclose to telling him off.

Yes, it was totally the husband's fault for not calling you, dear elderly family friend. Never mind the husband was totally devastated because the woman who cared for him when he was just a young boy and spent every school holiday with, have just died, and that he has only last seen you, dear long lost family friend, perhaps 11 moons ago which makes you not really top-of-mind in his state of grief. Never mind he was busy calling CLOSE family members near and far to tell THEM about the death. It was still his fault for not calling you. (You can picture me flipping him the birdie now).

But because I have been taught really well by my parents to show respect for the elderly and I didn't want to embarrass the husband and his siblings, I only had that telling-off in my head. Yeah, I know. Boo hoo. But I swear, some people need to have lessons/reminders in adab and need to realise that the bloody world does not revolve around them.

Nenek passed on

She took her last breaths on Sunday night. She has been hospitalised the past three weeks for pneumonia.

Sunday night she was surrounded by family who took turns to say the shahada in her ears. The husband is holding well, although devastated. She was laid to rest on Monday.

I'm freeeeeeeeee

At least for this week. Free of work, that is. I am resuming my dormant stay-at-home duties this week, what with the kids having their one-week break and all. And oh yeah, the husband travelling across the region the past two weeks and the coming two weeks. The poor man is exhausted and all he does when he gets home is play with the kids, and listen to my incessant chatter about something or someone or other.

For the kids this week, I have planned out trips to the Botanical Gardens (free admisson! wheeee!), visits to my mum's (free food! wheeee!), the nearby library (free books!!) and outdoor games (free fresh air! wheeee!).

I am tripping up on the adrenaline. Having gone to the gym this morning and working my body silly. I walked home from the gym, after an hour of Cardio Blitz class and 30mins at the gym, nearly dead. Only to be told by the kids that I need to quickly rush and shower since they've "never smelt anything this bad." Feeling the love, like totally.

Call me Angst

We have a lot more angst in the house now than ever before.

Farah is showing signs of an angsty teenager at age 12+ and has major mood swings that sometimes take me by surprise. Add to that, I have Danial who is getting all angsty now all at the ripe age of 8+.

So, Farah's angst can be attributed to her transition from being a tweeny to a teenager. She wants to do things her way at her own time. We let her, but not always. The husband and I remind her of her chores and homework. Every single day. I told myself, before I had kids, that I would not turn into a naggy mum but I fear I am slipping down that slippery road.

Non-negotiables are her spending time studying and doing her prayers. We have to check on her because there were instances when she hasn't been straight with us. Now she's learnt that honesty is best policy when it comes to us. On most days though, she's been great. The good thing is she's enjoying her secondary school life. She's made new friends - we checked her friends out by inviting them over for lunch every now and then - and is a bit more enthused about studying.

Of late, the *other* angsty kid in the house is Danial. He is peeved that he wasn't selected for the track and field team and so won't be running at the upcoming school sports day. He said he came in first during the trials but was not selected. I can't explain the rationale to him and the husband is fuming mad and even wanted to write to the school.

Let me take a step back and clarify that my son's interest in sport is not my doing. Oh, you knew that already? The husband is inculcating the love of sport in the kids, so much so that they actually look forward to going for a jog with him and kicking the ball around at the nearby open field. Ok, so those are good things. But the by-product of sport is competitiveness. Not that it is a bad thing, if it comes in small, manageable doses. I'm digressing so let's go back to the story here.

So now Danial is even more infuriated when he's been selected as a cheerleader instead to which he said thanks but no thanks to the teacher.

On the husband's part, he is still coaching Danial to sprint and harbours a secret ambition that he (Danial, not the husband) will be Singapore's greatest rugby player. Although, ahem, Singapore has not really qualified, let alone won any worth-mentioning rugby tournaments. Ever. But I don't want to burst that bubble of his since the husband was one of the best rugby players that came out of Singapore.

The other two girls are also enjoying going out for a run and catching ball with the rest of them. The love of sport is slowly but surely blossoming in our family. I have no choice but to join in; it's no fun being home alone when everyone's out there.

And then he goes and does this

I haven't been feeling all too happy of late. Mostly because I have been feeling like I am carrying the entire weight of caring for family and family members on my pretty little shoulders with no help from the husband. It started with complaining teachers, the hospitalisations that went on and two weeks before that, with coaching the kids with their exams. The husband was always too busy with work.

Lest you think I was a saint for quietly soldiering on, I'm clarifying the situation right this minute. I am far from being a saint. I was very vocal to the husband about what I think. True to character, I have been telling him how I upset I am with him, in what I perceive as him getting his priorities wrong. I know it caused him great grief but some things just need to be said.

So throughout the entire time, I was either sulking, angry or just plain tired from having monologues in my mind. I went through self-pity (*why* do I have to do all this on my own? boohoohoo) to indignation (why do *I* have to do all this on my own?!#$%$%$^) and resignation (I have to do all this on my own. sigh).

While I was busy with that, and work, and the kids, my birthday became a non-event. I don't typically have birthday celebrations; it's usually a quiet dinner with the family and that's it. But this year, it just crept up on me. The husband took us out for seafood dinner and that was that.

Then last Sunday he had some event he had to be at and had asked that us all attend the lunch event as a family. Only, the lunch event was my surprise birthday celebration, complete with surprise guests - the Bhutias - and lovely flowers. It was such an unexpected gesture that it completely floored me and I was for a while, lost and puzzled.

Since then, the husband has been sweet, spending more time with me and the kids. I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts!

The new addition

It's here. After months of waiting, I took delivery of it yesterday. I need to get used to it - since I've been used to driving the husband's continental car. Have to remind myself over and over again; the signal lights are on the right, the wipers on the left.

The kids are thrilled. Danial said he didn't like the colour (which is the exact same colour as above), but he loves the interior. Sara said she didn't like it a bit, but she liked it a lot - see if you can figure that one out. Farah was too thrilled for words. The husband said just to be sure, the kids will still like his car better than mine. Heh, we'll see about that...coz this baby will be souped up for sure.

TGIF the 13th!

Testosterone overdrive

The weekend saw me getting more than my fair share of action movies. Saturday night, I accompanied the husband to watch Die Hard 4.0 and on Sunday afternoon, I brought Danial to watch Transformers - the two girls shrieked they didn't want to watch Transformers, even before I could ask them.

What can I say about the two movies? There were many explosions, too many car chases and too many shootings. And Bruce Willis' character has more lives than a thousand cats' combined. I know, it's a gross oversimplification and fans will protest, but the movies would not be what they are if any of those elements were missing.

So as I sat through both movies, there is the unmistakable awe and excitement with the husband and Danial. The husband was rapt at the adrenaline level of the movie - the car chases, the helicopters blowing up in mid-sky, he was thrilled. The movie kept me entertained but not as much as it did the husband.

My dear firstborn, the considerate boy that he is, kept asking me before the movie started if I *really* wanted to watch it and what would I do if I got bored. So before he could analyse any further, I told him it didn't matter what movie I watched as long as I could watch it with him.

All these action movies make me feel like I've unwillingly gotten a huge dose of testosterone into my system. I'd better check to see if I'm growing facial hair, or worse, chest hair.