Brain? What brain?

I had a brain. Once. Then I become a mom and I lost it somewhere among my son’s dirty diapers and my 961 shirts that has been puked on.

If you’re a mom (especially a new mom) maybe you can relate to some of the brainless incidents that I experienced lately. Behold; MOMMY BRAIN SYNDROME:

1. Had a major cardiac arrest when I went into the room and stared at my son’s empty crib. OH MY GOD WHERE IS MY BABY?! Oh wait. I took him out a minute ago to put him in his playpen.

2. [Telephone conversation]

Me: “Mom, what time are you coming over?”
Husband: “Erm… Baby? This is me…”
Me: “Huh? What the…? Why are you answering mom’s phone?”
Husband: “Errr… You called MY phone”
Me: “Really?” [Check the number dialed] “HOLY MOTHER OF $%#@!”
Husband: “Baby, this is 6th times in a week you accidentally called me...”

3. Went into the kitchen, opened the fridge and stared at it for 5 minutes and have no clue what I was looking for.

4. I washed Kaisan’s bottles FOUR TIMES because each time after I finished washing it, I asked myself, “Did I wash this already?” and washed it again. Repeat that four times. FOUR TIMES.

5. Waited half an hour for the rice to cook only to realize I didn’t turn on the rice cooker’s switch.

6. I turned the house upside down looking for my phone when the entire time, the phone was in my hand.

7. I was asked to check my email at 8am and as I switched on my computer, I tried using the aircond’s remote as the mouse. I thought the sensor gone fuck and was cursing the entire time that I have to buy a new mouse.

8. [Driving with my pregnant sister]

“Why are we at the fish market? Aren’t we supposed to go to the night market?”
“I want to get a toilet mat”
“Here? At a FISH MARKET?”
“HOLY MOTHER OF!!!” [Turned car around and drove to the night market]
“Wait a minute. It’s 10am. The night market opens at 6pm!”
“HOLY MOTHER OF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

9. Few nights ago, I was asked by the Mister to cook roasted chicken. When I was serving, he asked, “I thought you’re making me roasted chicken…?” Huh? I MADE HIM FRIED CHICKEN INSTEAD I DON’T EVEN!

And the crown jewels of all:

10. I washed my face with contact lens solution because I thought it was my facial foam.


Weekend is here! Time to take out the recipe book and cook something special for the family! Here, I made Curry Noodle! My first time ever and it turned out AB-SO-LUTE-LY DELICIOUS!

This message is brought to you by a sleep deprived zombie mom.

30 Things I Have Learned in My 30 Years of Life

1. I do not THINK I can cook. I KNOW I can cook and I’m pretty awesome at it.

2. Blogging is cheaper than therapy.

3. I follow and live in my own rules. It gets me into trouble more often than not but the satisfaction and liberation of following my own rules makes any consequences worth it.

4. Broken hearts do mend.

5. Makeups and perfumes will never go out of style.

6. I will probably never earn my living from blogging, reading, photographing, nor sleeping. Basically, I will never make a living from all the things I love doing.

7. If I don’t use it, wear it or eat it –get rid of it.

8. Traveling and books are my sanity.

9. I still do not know how to take compliments or criticisms.

10. In my head, I am always a crazy 18-year-old girl wielding a machete with squeaky voice.

11. I do not like cakes.

12. Making bed in the morning, washing all dishes the night before and putting on makeup is NOT a waste of time.

13. My instinct is my best compass in life. Trust it. Except when I’m hormonal.

14. Coding. ‘Nuff said.

15. No one's child/husband/wife is as perfect as the parents/spouse said they are.

16. I am a closet hipster. Even before being a hipster is cool.

17. What I give out will come back tenfold.

18. Electronic gadgets are not scary.

19. Chocolates and ice creams can’t take my pain away. In fact, it gives me breakouts.

20. Donate blood.

21. Only give out opinion or advice when asked.

22. ENO cures gastric and 100PLUS cures diarrhea.

23. Online/phone/video games are a waste of time.

24. Those who dislike me are bitter morons and I do not change myself to please moronic baboons.

25. I’m a homebody with occasional TONIGHT WE ARE YOUNG SO LET’S SET THE WORLD ON FIRE season.

26. How to study hard, party hard, and travel hard.
27. For a 30 year old who had been through a lot, I still cry like a little girl.

28. Don’t assume.

29. Bikini wax is addictive.

30. Is so last year.



Inspired by Mila's Dream

Love The Way I Whine

Remember my crazy water retention when I was pregnant? The one that gave me major pain in the ass Carpal Tunnel for months? The one that forced me to wear wrist braces that made people think I was a professional bowling player?

Yeah, that one.

People said once I give birth, it would be gone. Like, poof!

Poof? More like PFFFFT!!!

Okay, yes, my hands are no longer swollen but it is still painful –till now. Up to a point that I can’t lift up my son because of the excruciating pain that never fails to make me scream SON YOU ARE TWO MONTHS OLD ALREADY WHY WON’T YOU GET A JOB ALREADY! (My son understands that his mother is a bit or more batshit crazy most of the time)

I can’t bath my baby in his tub. I can’t spontaneously make movement like doing the Egyptian dance with my sister when the impulse is there. I can’t use the stone mortar. I can’t for the life of me grasps a pen to write.

The pain radiates in the wrist. Both wrists. It’s crazy. Nobody understands how painful it is when I force myself to use both hands to do something. I winced. I cried. I growled. I howled and turned into Jacob Black’s hairy chest.

I tried massages. In fact, I had like 10 massages in mere 2 months and still no change. In fact, it made it worst. Everybody said I should not put pressure on my wrists. Pfft. How? I have a baby for crying butt loud! I have to carry him, lift him and clean him. If I can get my feet to do all the work, yeah, bring it. But I do not have the monkey ability to do so.

So I suffer. Until now. Doctors called it de Quervain’s tendonitis. I did get it check but the medication suggested is a no-no for breastfeeding me. I’m thinking of acupuncture but the thought of needles make me want to wet my pants.

I’m going for another check-up soon and we’ll see how it goes. Sigh. Macam-macam jak…

Crouching Baby Hidden Hair

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my exotic hairless head. Mock me and I will hold the world ransom for... ONE MILLION DOLLARS! [Insert Dr. Evil laughter]

Dear Readers

Of all the days for me to be seen and greeted by silent readers of this blog, why must it be on the day that I look like a white-back female gorilla who just been dragged out of a burning refugee camp screaming, “MY BANANA! BAAAANAAAANAAAAANAAAANAAAA!”

When a reader came up to say hi and said he reads my blog last week, I was flattered. Thank you, you. I appreciate it but with my hair greasy with oil (I just had a massage that day), wearing my ancient faded blouse and no make-up whatsoever, fashion police literally DIED to witness such disaster. I assure you I don’t usually go out looking like a homeless bag lady that smells like crude oil. It was just one of those days.

My sister said, “Ha-ha! You can never, ever go out in public looking as messed up as this anymore. Your readers will think you’re lying when you post nice photos of yourself but in real life you look like shit”


This always happens to me. I blame Murphy’s Law. When I go out fully deck in makeup and nice outfit, I meet no one in particular. But just when I don my train wreck messed up costume… GAH!

You see, Miri is a small city and my blog is one of those few in Miri that are being read by many. It’s not a big deal to be recognized (#humblebrag) but WHY MUST I BE SEEN ON DAYS I LOOK LIKE A RETIRED DRAG QUEEN?

Few months ago, I was at a night market with the Mister and because I was heavily pregnant, puffy faced, water retention killing my feet, I couldn’t be bothered to look my best and that was when I met a reader who introduced himself and said he likes reading my blog. Oh hell no… This scene is WRONG. CUT! WHERE’S MY MAKEUP ARTIST? BRING IN MY IMAGE CONSULTANT!

Yes. Yes. Looks are not important. It’s the content of this blog that matters.

REALLY? WHAT BULLCRAP IS THAT? LOOKS/IMAGE AND CONTENT BOTH MATTERS. I am a visual person and this also makes me a shallow person coz I tend to judge a person by their appearance.

I seldom, almost rarely be seen worst for wear. Even at home, I try to wear nice clothes especially to bed. That is why I cringed badly when I realize most of my old home clothes don’t fit me anymore. I was reduced to wear the Mister’s T-shirts or tattered old PJs. TIME TO GO SHOPPING!

Maybe I am an anal when it comes to look but it makes me happy to be seen pleasant looking.

So the next time you see me in town, do say hi but if I look like a Madam Sasquatch that day, please spare me the embarrassment and just drop me an email/comment to say “Hey I saw you the other day! Your Sasquatch look is to DIE FOR! By the way, love reading your blog. Cheers!”

O Hail Wonder Woman! Work It!

I’ve been having some terrible weeks due to exhaustion and lack of sleep. Normal occurrence when you have a baby (people and the Internet has been stressing this over and over again yeah yeah I know I’m not complaining I’m just stating a fact blah lah lu!)

When I reach my limit and can’t function normally (like putting Kaisan’s dirty diaper in his cupboard and his pajamas in the rubbish bin –it happens. Trust me) I would get either the Mister or my mom to take care of Kaisan while I go somewhere and rest.

I shared this with a friend last night and somehow the idea of me doing so gave her an impression that I am a lazy mother who relinquishes my responsibility to other people so that I can lift my feet up and paint my grotesque toenails red while other people take care of my son.

She, being a full time mother of X many kids said she would NEVER EVER thought of asking her husband or her mother or anybody to take care of her children so that she can SELFISHLY rest. “A REAL mother put up with all the pain and hardship of taking care of their children because THAT’S WHAT A REAL MOTHER DO. It’s OUR DUTY TO SUFFER FOR THEM”

W-O-W. I can’t believe I was having a conversation with a hardcore Neanderthal mother at 4am (I have friends all over the world who more often than not, are either up at an ungodly hour or at different time zone and we often take the time chat but unfortunately not all of them are as fun as I am)

Suffer for our kids, huh? Seriously, REALLY? Like, REEAAALLLY are you for real? I have one word for this kind of thinking –BULL-FUCKING-SHIT.

Yeah sacrificing and suffering for your love ones is noble and all but it is only meaningful in YOUR HEAD. I studies psychology and I learned that most women find the act of martyr is something to be proud of and it denotes their womanhood or some shit like that. Like for a fact that a lot of my female friends scorn me for having c-sec instead of going “vaginal”. Somehow, going c-sec to them is taking the easy way out and I am not a real mother and unable to FEEL like a real woman because I didn’t allow a baby to tear my vagina into many pieces like they did.

If you’re one of those female thinking like so, today’s post is not for you. Move along your perfect womanly world and come back again tomorrow for posts you can relate to.

Look, yes, being a super-wonder-million-dollar-woman sure sounds exciting and people practically worship your act of martyrdom but deep down, ask yourself, “Whom am I trying to prove with all this sacrificing business?” Are you REALLY trying to impress people or the fact that you are actually trying to tell yourself something? Like maybe, you have a nagging thought that you are actually NOT a good worthy person and by sacrificing yourself for things that slowly destroy yourself day by day is your way to tell yourself, you ARE INDEED A GOOD person?

I know I am not a good person. I admit pointblank that I am lazy, selfish to the core, serious anger management issue and many more but one thing I know is that I am not a hypocrite to myself. I will not lie and I cannot and will never be a superwoman. I know my limit. I know where to stop before I reach a point where I will destroy myself if I push more.

When I’m tired, lack of sleep and body aching everywhere, I tend to be disoriented, forgetful, resentment towards any living things around me and in my rational mind, it is dangerous to be in that state. What if I fall asleep while feeding my son because I’m too tired? What if I take it on my husband in anger for no reason whatsoever just because I haven’t slept in 4 days?

When I tell my friend this, she said, “Maybe you would feel like so. I don’t. I can never feel too tired or angry with my kids. When I’m too sleepy to feed my baby, I will do anything to force myself to stay up and alert. It’s all in your mind, dear. If you THINK you’re tired, then you ARE tired”

O Hail Wonder Woman working The Secret to the utmost!

It was already 5am in the morning and I was waaaaaay too sleepy to argue more. I admit she have a point. It’s all in the mind. But when my brain is as battered as the rest of my body, all I can motivate myself to do is crawl to a nearby corner, keel myself and die.

Despite what has been discussed, at 6am today I packed my son’s bag and called up my mom to say I’m sending Kaisan for her to babysit for a day. As soon as the Mister left with Kaisan to drop him over at my mom’s, I went back to bed and had the longest sleep I’ve ever had in 2 months plus. I woke up, feeling fresher than ever and produced a very well written post in mere 30 minutes.

Selfish? It depends on your moral grounds rules of motherhood.

FAB FRIDAY -This will be the last photo of my son…

…with HAIR! Coz his precious, precious soft hair has been shaved off! Even though he's such a trooper, no fuss whatsoever, I'm the one BAAAAAWWWLLLLING my eyeballs out seeing his hair... all... gone... Oh pweety, pweety baby hair.... [sniff each and every pieces of hair and keep it in my bra]

Going Ninjutsu with Baby Formula

I sincerely believe that I was born with a tiny little bell situated just next to my cerebral cortex and this tiny bell is designed especially for Kaisan. As and when there’s something wrong with him, this itsy, bitsy, tiny little bell would BLAST OUT THE LOUDEST RRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING EVER that could even awaken my long-ago-dead ancestors. And when the bell ring, immediately I put on my ninja costume and prepare for battle with whatever that’s wrong with my son.

And since birth till now, our endless battle is with his formula.

As I mentioned previously, 80% of the time he is formula-fed. The rest, well, boobies galore. Finding the perfect formula for him is harder than figuring out how to look sexy wearing a spandex at 80.

His first formula was SNOW (Just to avoid confusion that is a brand of a formula. I do not, and I repeat, do not feed my son snow) and he had the world worst diarrhea a baby age 2 weeks could ever experience. And the EEFFFF part was, people around me said IT’S NORMAL FOR A BABY TO POOP WATERERY STOOL AT THAT AGE SO LEAVE IT BE AND ONLY GO TO A DOCTOR WHEN HE’S BLUE OR DYING OR SOME SHIT THAT I omg!howbloodystupid!yourreasoningis! I ignored their supremely idiotic advice and went to see a doctor and lo behold, moroness of all ages, IT IS NOT NORMAL FOR A BABY TO POOP WATER. Aside from that, Snow also gave him bad rashes. Poor baby looked like he was hitting puberty hard at 2 weeks old with tiny zits all over his face. My ninja senses were right.

Doctor said Kaisan must change formula coz he’s obviously allergic to it. He suggested us to try ISOMIL. It’s a soy milk formula for babies who are prone to diarrhea and yes, after taking it for few days his stool become solid BUT a week after that he started to cry so hard at night that as if he just got fired from his high paying job and got dump by his supermodel fiancĂ©e all at the same time. Turns out the formula were giving him major colic. The formula also made his stool harder than diamond and he had constipation for few days.

Then we changed his formula to SIMILAC. Only a day with the formula, his tummy got bloated due to wind and WELCOME BACK DIARRHEA HOW ARE YOU FINE THANK YOU.

Then we tried ANMUM. For 2 weeks, nothing happened. I thought, “This is it. This is his soul mate formula ever after!” So I went out and bought 2 cans for stock. The very next day, my ninja senses rang its alarming bell when Kaisan started to PREEEEEETPRROOOOOOOTSPLAAAAATPLOOOOPSPREEEEEET Diarrhea. Again.

We brought him to our doctor yesterday and he gave us MAMEX GOLD, a formula without lactose because he suspected Kaisan might be lactose intolerant. We went home, fed him his new formula, which he spit out and the next day, skin flared out with rashes. RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINGING BELL!!!!!

Preppy Baby is sticking out his tongue at all his previous formula

We went to the doctor again today and he sighed and said oh maybe Kaisan’s allergic to protein and not lactose so let’s try NANH.A.1 PRO formula.

Are you still with me? Have you been counting on how many type of formula we’ve tried and experiments and my son STILL hasn’t turn into a Spiderman?

Preppy Baby thinks his mom's blog is boooorriiiinggggg

Well, we don’t know how is the new formula with him. Right now is a wait and see game and God, I’m praying hard that this formula is his perfect one.

Baby, You're Doing It Right


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