A Working Mother

A working mother sometimes comes to work with an unbutton blouse. Or worst, uneven button blouse.

At lunch time, stay in the office because you do not want to be on the road with working mothers who are fighting tooth and nail to beat the traffic when fetching their kids from school.

After lunch time, a working mother comes back to the office with ketchup on her pants or a piece of meat in her hair.

A working mother's handphone is always ringing. It's either the baby sitter calling or her kids crying for a new pencil.

A working mother is always missing from work. She's either at home taking care of her sick baby or she's at the pediatric clinic waiting for her baby's next shot.

Despite their seriousness at work, a working mother is actually very entertaining. They can snort water out of their nose, make funny faces and do the monkeys dance to their kids. Sometimes, all at the same time.

A working mother is super multitasker. She can talk on the phone describing to her own mother the shape of the red dots she found on her son's body this morning while typing an email to the Vice President of her company to book him for an urgent meeting.

A working mother is a caring and understanding colleague. But her tempers are short because she slept only two hours last night due to her teething son.

A working mother can run in her heels and dodge obstacles like a ninja. This is because she has enough practice at home trying to walk around a house full of toys and Legos on the floor.

A working mother makes the best negotiator. The skill is well practice at home when trying to negotiate a deal with her husband about who should put their son to sleep tonight.

A working mother is a creative inventor. They can think out of the box for any problems thrown their way. It's another skill a mother is fully proficient when having short attention span children who easily gets bored.

A working mother is a walking talking Wikipedia. Ask them anything and they can provide you a 10 minutes long answer in a single breath without a blink in their eyes.

A working mother has eye bags the size of a man's fist, smells of putrid milk, barf, often wearing wrinkly blouse to work but the most generous and patient when dealing with difficult customers/colleague.

A working mother makes the best employee. Trust me I know. I am a working mother.




I have some more to add it but I just don't have the time because well, I am a working mother.

How I Failed As A Mother

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Rookie Daddy and Mommy Mistake!!!!

I just don't know where to start. Part of me wanted to claw my face in despair. Another part of me just wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

I blame OUR LACK OF SLEEP THIS YEAR!

Internet, brace yourself for idiocy beyond infinity: My son is actually JUST TURNED 8 MONTHS.

Just last night I told my husband Kaisan will turn 9 months this week and we were like oh no wonder he's starting to shift his butt to the side whenever he crawls -he's learning to sit.

But today, my baby development app suddenly bleeps telling me "YOUR BABY IS 8 MONTHS OLD TODAY!" and I was like, huh? Is this thing broken or what? Kaisan is turning 9 not 8, idiot. Then I looked at the calendar and count and OOOOO MAAAAAAAAAI GAAAAAAWD HE IS TURNING 8 MONTHS! WHAT KIND OF MOTHER AM I? I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW OLD MY SON IS!

I know it's not a big deal to most. I mean, it's just one month different right? Wrong. What about all the jabs he has been given all these while, huh? Wrongly calculated age means Kaisan has been receiving jabs that are meant for babies one month older than his actual age.

Be right back. I'm going to crawl underneath a rock and cry until Kaisan come and fetch me with a decent sandwich.

The OMG Moment of Parenthood

Remember I once said that Kaisan knows how to pull himself up into a standing position? Yes. Well, few nights ago he was standing while holding on a sofa and next thing we know, he leaned forward and STANDING ON HIS OWN UNASSISTED ERMAHGERD MY SON IS STANDING ON HIS OWN ALREADY FUCK YEAH I WAS SCREAMING MY HEAD OFF.

I hesitated at first to put this on Youtube because I like to remain anonymous (Pfft. Right now I bet there are more than a dozen people in the office who are reading my blog) but I decided to just go with it. So here's the short clip on what we managed to capture that night.



Why yes, that crazy lady screaming is totally NOT me. Check out her floral pants.

You totally should ask her for fashion advice.

Hello Internet, I am now officially a mother to a Godzilla baby.

See that? Yes.

THOSE. TEETH.

There are four on that gum. FOUR. F. O. U. R. Growing side by side.

8 months and 6 teeth.

12 months and 60 million teeth?

I told my husband last night that I'm thinking of weaning Kaisan as early as NOW THIS VERY SECOND THIS VERY MOMENT WHEN HE'S ON MY CHEST, GNAWING ON MY BREAST THIS HURRRRRRTS SO BAD!

Husband said it's up to me even though I know he wanted me to keep going until Kaisan is 12 months and I agreed but that was before my sweet adorable munchkin turn into a ferocious cannibal.

I am clueless about weaning but based on what I've read on the Internet (world most reliable source of information even though people tend to exaggerate way too much *kofflikemekoff**) it seems like a painful ordeal for me and Kaisan, physically and emotionally.

I don't know whether I'm ready for that yet. The emotional part I mean.

Would I be strong enough to say no to my crying baby? And Kaisan have this really sad cry that he tends to use when he wanted to breastfeed at night. It's so sad and mournful that I. Just. Cannot.

Would I be able to fight the feeling of him not depending on me anymore? I heard the separation anxiety is worst than getting hit by a meteorite (so I heard)

Would I be diligent enough to use the breast pump which I hate so much because it makes me feel like a cow whenever I use it?

I don't know. What do you think?

Welcome to Crazy Town: Population Me.

Last week when Kaisan was still having diarrhea (he's 100% cured already and I'm grateful no one can see me dancing naked with my breast towel swinging over my head when he stop all flu, cough, fever and lastly diarrhea few days ago. Woohoo!) I decided to bring him out to get some fresh air since he has been cooped up in the house for close to 3 weeks due to all the illness a baby gets when teething (Remember that single ladies. When you have a baby, teething is worst than waking up in the morning with a huge zit suddenly appear on your nose who introduce himself as Gandalf the Gray)

I brought him to local deli to have our lunch. We were having a good time together. He was eating his mash potatoes while I had my usual beef lasagna. Then halfway through, he showed me his poop face. Poop face is when he pressed his lips together and frowns and grunts. Son, you better pray your mom never take a photo of you with that look. Pray really, really hard.

Immediately I brought him to my car since the deli does not have a baby changing room and while struggling to hold a wriggly squirmy uncomfortable baby and a diaper bag and me trying to get the car keys from my pocket, I suddenly felt something warm and squishy on my blouse and lo behold! Kaisan's poop was all over me!

WHAT. IN. THE. WHOLE. WIDE. WORLD!

My mind went blank. Like, literally. There was nothing in my head except a loud screaming AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!

I held him up farther away from me and continue to scream in my head for few more seconds.

I was, in the middle of a car park, far away from home, with a dirty smelly baby with poop all over himself and all over myself and once I stop screaming, I was like, "Where can I go and get a refund for this baby?" and another part of me went, "You idiot! This is not defect electronic goods that you can just ask for exchange! This is YOUR SON FOR FUCK SAKE"

Then I quickly open up my car and dumped everything in while still holding a smiling baby, happy to see that he just send an explosive nuclear waste on his mother and on himself. AY YAY YAY YAY YAY.

Turns out his diaper was not fastened properly so when he poops, it blasted everywhere! (I am notoriously known with my exaggeration) I peeled off his clothes, his diaper and his socks and threw it on the ground. By ground, I mean road. By road, I mean just few inches away from my car BECAUSE HOOOMAAAHHHGAAADDD ICKY DIRTY STINKY POOOOOP EVERRRYYYYWHEEREE!!!!

Then I took out his water bottle and washed his naked self BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD IN FRONT OF PEOPLE WHO PASSES BY! They must be thinking, "Look at the poor homeless lady cleaning his son. TSK" GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Once done, I put his diaper on, THANKS TO ALL THAT IS HOLY I BROUGHT AN EXTRA ONESIE, put that on him, and fasten him on his car seat. Then, me. Hoooboy. There was poop on my arms up to my elbows, all over my front blouse, my jeans and IN MY HAIR HOW THE HELL DID IT GET THERE? I tried to wash myself down by using whatever water that was left in the bottle and quenched the need to strip myself naked.

I then picked up all his dirty clothes on the road and put it in a plastic bag and dumped it in the bonnet. Then we drove home in silence. It was a traumatic experience for me and an embarrassing one for my son.

We promised we will never talk of it ever again.

You know what? I always thought I would make an excellent example of a mother who is always level headed, calm and reasonable when face with crisis.

Well, so I thought.



P/s If you think you're one lucky monkey, go join my first giveaway contest HERE! Closing date is this Sunday 30th September!

The kind of wisdom that parents should know about before having a baby

Me and my sister went to KL recently with the intention to shop until our wallets vomit slugs. We brought along the babies and a nanny and we were so excited to FINALLY. GET. THE. CHANCE. TO. BUY. NEW. CLOTHES. NO. MORE. SHABBY. OLD. SHIRTS. GOODBYE. MATERNITY. PANTS.

But oh how naive we were when it comes to traveling and shopping with babies.

We woke up at 8am. We fed the babies, gave them a bath, put on nice clothes on them and play a bit and ALL THAT TOOK 3 FREAKING HOURS BY GOD. Then the mothers took shower, get ready, make-up and all which TOOK ONLY 15 MINUTES OR LESS.

By the time we're ready to go for our so called BREAKFAST, it was already noon. We hailed a cab - reached our destination -went looking for a place to eat -oh wait a minute- Kaisan need to change diaper -detour to the nearest baby changing room - done? Okay, let's go have our brunch- oh wait a minute -Alina is fussing for milk - detour to the nearest nursing room and spend half an hour there -done? Okay, let's go have our FOOD BECAUSE I'M SO HUNGRY SINCE IT'S ALREADY 3PM WHERE DID THE TIME GO? By the time we finish eating, it was already 6PM and we need to go back to the hotel to put the cranky babies to sleep.

Mission to shop till we drop -accomplished. Well, not exactly. We dropped dead exhausted by evening. When we reached Miri, we brought nothing back except lots and lots of dirty clothes and extra stress wrinkles on our face.

Single ladies; enjoy your freedom to shop while you can. Once you have a baby, online shopping is there for a reason.

The most ridiculous way to express my love

By now I bet people are sick and tired of me writing nonstop about my son especially about his oh-so-normal-what's-the-big-deal fever (I'm not going to defend the damn fever so you can go ahead and call it normal, boring, turd, puke face, bin Laden, mutated slug). And guess what? Today I'm going to write about my son again! And his well-being again! Because I can. Again!

As of today, we can safely bid adieu to the damn fever. Kaisan is back to his old self and eating and drinking his bottle again. "Could this be the moment where we can celebrate? LET'S PARTY BUIH TONIGHT!!!!" I whispered to my husband but before we can take out the detergent, Kaisan grimly showed us the meanest most badass heat rash on his body.

Whoa there, son. Could you like give us a break? Like, can the rashes come next month or next year? We really like, tired and all you know.

Like, whatever, said the damn rash and stayed there glaring at us menacingly and angry.

The doctor said Kaisan could be allergic with the antibiotic that he took but my sister said, "I bet it's all the durians you ate the other night" OOOOOOOOH NOOOOOOOOOOO. Crap. I think so too. Because Kaisan is breast feeding and durian is heaty, man... I should NOT be a mother.

The damn fake measles (as what the doctor called it) is getting worst today and seeing my son's face blotchy with red nasty dots just made me want to take a swim with sharks and piranhas out in the open sea.

Because of Kaisan's illness, me and my husband have been having sleepless night, exhaustion, and have not been eating properly for the past 2 weeks plus. All our attention and well being is devoted to taking care and looking after our son. That's where I realized how much I really, really love and appreciate my husband. I know how rare it is to have a husband who would go out of his way to make his wife's life easy and I must have done something good to deserve such good fate. My husband takes all the responsibilities of the household and taking care of Kaisan when I'm dead tired to do anything. At night, he would wake up more often than me to check up on our son so I can sleep more.

It's funny that most of our friends tend to ask us whether we're happy together. Like, huh? Why wouldn't we? Turns out it's our super grim facial expression that makes people wonder are we planning to murder each other in our sleeps. My dears, despite our serious face (mine especially), we are not contemplating your demise I know I'm tempting fate by declaring this out loud here but we are so happy. There are challenges here and there but my husband is always there, willing to sacrifice and do anything to support me, our marriage and our little family no matter what.

And so, today's post is not entirely about my son. It's my way of saying thank you and that I love you, Joe. In my humble opinion, you are the most awesomeness, coolest most caring and loving and bestest and sexy husband ever.



P/s We really SHOULD take an outdoor photography of us because God, this is ridiculous. We don't have a single photo together in bloody ages!

Sanity is now below the normal level.

This post-vacation mood at home is really depressing. Add with a super duper cranky baby who is having fever, diarrhea and flu, the atmosphere at home is like a wet dirty dark cave with bats that screams earth shattering, “HOLY GUANOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” before they eat your face. I choose to sleep as early as 8pm just to run away from the heavy gloomy feeling at home.

My fever broke the night after we reached Miri but Kaisan only get his fever on Tuesday. He has been OH MY GRACIOUS so cranky throughout our trip in Singapore and Johor Bahru that I was contemplating on the best way to auction him on Ebay without getting arrested.

At first I thought he was just uncomfortable with the changes of environment or unhappy because we messed up his nap schedule. I told myself that he’ll be back to his cheery self when we’re back in Miri.

But after 2 days at home, he still is a baby banshee, screaming and crying and refused to take his bottles. Oh it is sooooooo stressful! He refused his formula in the bottle and only wanted to be breastfed. I thought he developed a new dislike towards his formula and dreading the fact that we have to go on a crazy rollercoaster ride finding him a new formula again like before.

So I told myself, screw the formula. Let’s give him water. But he STILL FREAKING REFUSE TO PUT ANYTHING IN HIS MOUTH EXCEPT MY NIPPLES! THERE. I SAID IT. I’M CRINGING INWARD KNOWING MANY PEOPLE I KNOW WILL READ THE N WORD AND IMAGINING IT GROWING ON MY FOREHEAD WHEN THEY SEE ME. WHATEVER.

Since Kaisan is also having really bad diarrhea, we had to find any means whatsoever to get water down his throat. We even tried to feed him milk via syringe! That didn’t work much because he THREW A HUMONGUOUS TANTRUM THAT SHOOK THE WORLD AND AWAKEN THE MIGHTY KRAKEN.

So, no water. Food, no problem. He loves his porridge that I made and from there at least I know he’s not starving. As for water, I just breastfeed him as much as I can and occasionally I give him ice Popsicle that I made with just water and let him suck on it. He enjoys it and for once, he’s quiet and for me, it’s a big relieve because at least there’s water in his body.

Then last night, while trying to feed him his medicines, guess what? I FOUND TWO TOOTH PEEKING OUT FROM HIS UPPER GUM! No wonder he has been a ferocious man-eating bear. He’s teething! And, wait. TWO? I am so going to have a pair of bleeding nipples…

That pretty much explains why he refuses his bottles. Maybe the tits are giving his gum pain. I don’t know. That’s just my rough guess. I’m willing to take any explanation right now because I’m super exhausted. Lack of sleep. Helpless in trying to make it easy for Kaisan. Tired. Bla. Bla. Bla. Wait. This is not about me.

So anyway... He lost a lot of weight and it breaks my heart to see him whimpering for me whenever I come home. My poor baby… I don't like it that he’s sick but I love that he’s super clingy with me, wanting to be hugged and cuddled all the time. I miss my giggly, sunny son.

Get well, my sweet. Kaisan’s Tooth, GROW FASTER AND STOP GIVING MY SON PAIN.

So I guess this is goodbye.

Goodbye to beauty queen’s sleep at night.

It has been 2 nights in a row that Kaisan refused formula from his dad. He woke up at 2am, cried and clawed his dad’s face when given formula. He howled, trashed all about and woke the sleeping lion (Ahem. Me) As soon as he sees my face, he threw himself onto my chest and tore my PJs apart. I exaggerate of course. It was an old T-shirt.

I guess 3 months of midnight shift for the hubster is over. It looks like my turn to wake up and do the feeding. Hi, I would like to tender my resignation as Kaisan’s mother. What? It’s a permanent thing? WHERE’S THE WRITTEN CONTRACT THAT SAYS SO?

When I send him over to my mom’s today, I groggily warned her that Kaisan might be difficult because he refused to be bottled the whole weekend. At lunch time, I went there to breastfeed and mom said he was behaving and he drank his bottle eagerly. WHAT? Oh No He Didn’t!

As I was about to scold him for making me look like a big fat liar and he gave me this look:

Anyone seen my glasses?

Damn. I forgot everything. Including my name. My name is Sharon you say? Ok. I believe you.

I took a little break from reality and BAM! It’s the weekend already.

I was down with super weird ailments last few days and yesterday, I crashed hard. I was vomiting, dizzy and had severe stomach pain. I tried to fight it off but my mind was just as screwed up as the rest of my body so trying to THINK I’m OKAY just melted my brain. Didn’t help the matter when my son was so cranky these few days. Teething? More like sprouting fangs I think.

Hubster tried to take over baby duty last night but Kaisan wanted nothing from his dad. He wanted boobies. Tsk. Typical male, ain’t it? So in my delirious and weak state, I had to breastfeed Kaisan while lulling him to sleep. I forgot to take any medication so it’s safe to breastfeed. My forgetfulness sometimes comes in handy, see? I fell asleep right after he started sucking. Then I woke up and he was already in his crib. Thanks, husband. I love you for that.

The whole night, I was restless in my sleep. The hubster swears I was talking in my sleep. I know I was. Few times I woke up by the sound of my own voice reciting the market’s current exchange rate.

Today, since I felt much better, I went and run some errands. By the way, I’m gonna speed things up here to cut the elaborate nuisance I might write that will end up wasting everyone’s time reading it (By everyone, I mean me. I am likely to be the only reader who READS every single word written. Suddenly I feel so lonely)

Send hubster’s Raya material to tailor, went to DiGi to fix my phone line issue, then felt dizzy spells again so I went back and wanted to rest but son gone cranky again so spend two hours plus entertaining his every ridiculous needs like allowing him to shove his arms down my throat, watched him inspect the holes of my nose, and then FINALLY after satisfyingly tortured my soul he fell asleep and I tried to sleep too but my brain just won’t stop yakking so I read a book and just about when my eyes started to drop, son woke up YAAAAAAAHHHHH and that’s about sums up my afternoon.

I have a free evening tonight. It’s such a rare occasion. And I spend it by sitting here in front of the Internet. Nice one, me.

I Need A Doctor... A Doctor... To Fix My Time.

It’s a fact. We human hate changes. Don’t deny it. When your boyfriend broke up with you, the first thing you do is to contemplate your own demise so you don’t have to feel the pain of losing someone you love. You can’t accept that he's no longer in your life. Things are changing. Your life is changing. No more ‘us’ but just you yourself alone. No more calling each other before going to sleep. No more weekends getaway. No more I love you, you love me, and we are a happy tree. If you still don’t get it, that is changes.

We human are condition to live a life of certainty. When our certainties are shifted by power beyond our means, we get panic, scared, angry, disbelief and many more negative feelings attributing to it. And that is ‘change’. But sooner than you know, we’ll adapt to that change. We strive. And we grow. And soon, we’ll go back to that path where we it is familiar –we go back to the life of certainty. Just like 9/11. When the terrorist attacked, the whole world felt the impact. Everything changed. The economy, the lifestyle, the airlines business, the safety rules and regulation and the way we perceive the world change. And as time goes by, life goes on. We move on. We adapt to the changes.

But the thing about life is; it is a cycle. It’s God’s way of messing up with our minds. Just when you get so damn bloody comfortable with your life after that big upheaval you experience a moment ago, God send another change to get that heavy butt of yours out of the cozy couch and here we go again!

For those who learnt from their experience, they strive and continue to strive again and again when the next changes come. For those who don’t, well, here’s a gun. Go shoot some birds. By birds I mean, empty tin cans. By guns, I mean XBOX guns. Don’t get the idea that I’m asking you to commit crime and get the wrath of PETA.

What I’m trying to say here is that, changes appear in my life too and that it sucks.

You see, I love Ramadhan month. I love the festive atmosphere that comes along with it. I love the spirit of giving and blessing among the community that more often than not, only appear during this month (I’m just saying that based on MY OWN experience –please don’t eat my face).

But Ramadhan messed up my day to day schedule.

Just when I FINALLY managed to sort out my time equally with a husband, a baby, a career and a life of my own, everything turns upside down when Ramadhan came. Just one tiny shift of my day-to-day life and everything falls apart.

The rest of the day is okay. I mean, from 7am till 3:59pm, no biggie. But as soon as the clock strikes 4pm, it’s like a giant sea monster is chasing my already-flat-butt.

Usually the hubster and I will break our fast at my mom’s or my sister’s or eat out (by invitation). It’s a rare occasion that we can eat at home. And by the time we’re done with the eating and praying and last minute shopping (if there is), it’s already 10pm.

WHERE DID THE TIME FLIES?

I didn’t do any reading. Not so much playing with my son because by that time he’s already sleeping. No time to stare at my husband’s eyes lovingly because our eyeballs are too strain and bloodshot due to lack of sleep. And of course, no blogging.

In the next few weeks, I will adjust to this lifestyle. BUT AFTER RAYA, I will have to readjust myself again for the life of AFTER Ramadhan. It's a cycle that makes me swallow my sour saliva and grimace.

These changes may not be a big deal to some but to me it’s like a giant hand is shaking and tossing me until my entire innards splat out on my blouse.

Lesson here is: Be flexible to changes.

The end.

Goodbye Bloody-Long-Maternity-Leave. Hello, Monday-till-Friday 8am-4pm at the office.

I’m back at work! Why, yes. Yes, I do miss my son. But actually those who miss him more than I do are Miss Right Boobs and Miss Left Boobs. I am still breastfeeding and so every lunch time, I rush back to my son to release the throbbing OH MY GOD WHY MUST IT BE SO PAINFUL boobs. I cannot pump in the office. The idea itself makes me more uncomfortable than shaking hands with a baboon. Where to pump? In the toilet? In the pantry? Want my milk with that tea? I was told there’s a nursing room in office building somewhere but still… A-w-k-w-a-r-d.

So, work. It’s so good to be back. For 3 months I was a full time housewife and that was when I realized, that role is definitely NOT my calling. No offence to those housewives reading this now. It’s not you. It’s me. Contrary to what people belief and for reason I cannot mention here, I love my job. My job gives me the kind of adrenaline rush that I only get when I jab myself with unicorn’s blood.

Aside from that, I can FINALLY wear nice clothes. At home, I looked like an abused mental patient drab in pajamas 24 hours. I didn’t bother to dress and look my best because I know, as a walking talking leaking boob machine, I will eventually stain my front blouse/shirt and my son thinks my shoulders are rubber toys to be gnawed and drooled on. Oh I tried to look nice for my husband but 5 minutes after Hurricane Kaisan attack… Haih! Don’t worry. I assure you I have been verbally shredded by all my female friends about me being so homeless looking.

Only when I go to work that I put some effort to my look. Note the word SOME. As I mentioned previously, I can’t afford to spend too much time dressing up, putting on makeup and such. Besides, all my work clothes STILL too small for me and all my maternity clothes are TOO BIG. Nothing kills my confidence faster than looking in my cupboard and realizes I can only wear towels to work. And what’s worst: I hate shopping here. I want to shop elsewhere. Like maybe, Johor’s new mall? [HINT][HINT]

Anyway, being a realist, this excitement will eventually wears off. I just hope it’s not too soon. In the meantime, I’m going to celebrate this return to the zombie land by buying tons of breast pads. 

Then clean my desk. But first, breast pads.

NO MOTHER’S DAY!

Mother’s Day is coming soon and as a new mother, I am NOT CELEBRATING MOTHER’S DAY.

I am celebrating NO MOTHER’S DAY.

So, on Mother’s Day, I won’t be accepting calls or emails or updating my Twitter or Facebook or text or Whatsapp or blogging.

On 13th Mei, I choose to go silence, receive no gifts or giving out gifts. My absence is my way of showing everyone around me, how mothers are missed when she is gone.

Join me to raise awareness about girls and women who die each year during pregnancy and childbirth.

Our silence is our loudest voice ever.

Whether you are a mother or you just love one, you can educate people about this issue and help prevent it. Here are some important facts about maternal health around the world.

1. Approximately 358,000 women die each year due to complications in pregnancy and childbirth. That's one woman every 90 seconds.

2. For every woman who dies each year in childbirth, 20-30 more suffer from lifelong debilitating disabilities.

3. Pregnancy is the number one cause of death in women, ages 15-19, in the developing world. Nearly 70,000 young women die every year because their bodies are not ready for parenthood.

4. Over 200 million women who would like to choose when they get pregnant don’t have access to family planning.

5. The United States ranks 50th globally in maternal mortality, even though it spends more on health care per capita than any other nation in the world. African American women are four times more likely to die in childbirth than Caucasian women.

Almost all of these deaths are preventable. To learn more, visit everymothercounts.org

 

Mommy Bragger

My world from the minute I find out I was pregnant, giving birth and until now, has been all about my son, THE BABY.

Every time I open my mouth, you can bet I'll be talking about my son.

Every time I blog, yes, yes it WILL be about my son. Or my boobs. Those two are interrelated.

I can't help it. My life just revolves around him and when I'm not with him, I think and talk about him.

Call me crazy but I think this obsessing over one's baby is very common among mothers. Am I right to assume that, Internet?

I know for a fact that it will tone down sooner or later. Especially with the second child. Poor second child. It seems unfair not to get the same limelight as the first one. Dear future second child, if I don't babble incoherently about you here is because I ran out of juice. Blame your brother.

So when I hear mothers talk about their kids, I understand. I will listen attentively and ask questions that they wanted me to ask and praise their kids accordingly. Because I UNDERSTAND.

There is a need to talk about one's child and I always see it as their way of sharing information about their child's development and accomplishment. Maybe they do brags sometimes but I always choose to humor them and listen. Because I UNDERSTAND.

So what this post is all about today is just to tell you that if you're the type who does not understand about parents need to brag shamelessly about their child, shame on you. One day when you have one of your own and no one is there to hear you squeal like a monkey when your child take his/her first step, poor you.

What? I'm just being defensive today. It's in the air. Blame the air. 

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.

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…

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.

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 fiancée 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.

Boobs. Depression. Tea. 3 words that shouldn't be in the same sentence together.

I didn’t lactate immediately after giving birth. My milk took 3 days to finally reach my nipples [OMG THERE SHE GOES AGAIN BEING SO VULGAR IMMA TURN MY NOSE UP ON HER BLOG NOW]

I was going insane with anxiety when my milk didn’t come out even when my son was sucking so hard. I kept on trying and trying to feed him and he latched and sucked (Oh he has no problem with latching. He’s a pro in that matter. But what’s the point of knowing how to latch when I don’t lactate?)

We kept trying till my nipples were so sore and painful like as if I just grind it repeatedly on a gravel road. I even had to check my nipples for blood each and every time Kaisan latch. But still, no milk and yes, no blood too on my nipples THANK GOD. So after failing a gazillion million times, I cried “FORMULA COMING RIGHT UP!”

I told my doctor my lack-of-liquid-boobies problem and he gave me a medicine to help speed things up. I took the pill twice and the next day, BAM! PAMELA ANDERSON STARING RIGHT BACK AT CHA! Yeah, Pamela Anderson with big wet stain on her blouse. I was leaking profusely soon after that. Never in my entire life I have seen my breast that GINORMOUS. It was beautiful all right. BUT! But it was DAAAAAAMN PAINFUL! I was practically crying when my boobs were stone hard and throbbing madly. I take back all my wishes to have bigger boobs if only God take away the pain.

I had to use the breast pump to help ease up the pain and lo behold! It was like a Niagara fall when I pump it! I couldn’t wait for Kaisan to wake up and when he did, excitedly I try to feed him. He was like a baby bird –mouth wide open, swinging his head side-by-side rapidly looking for my nipples and… crying. It was not because there was no milk. I just don’t know how to hold him properly! He was latching but I held his body in a way that made him so uncomfortable that he cried and screamed and grunted and growled. Yes, my son growled. I wish I had recorded the sound of him growling coz I swear it was so funny.

The longer I try to feed him, the more frustrated both of us were. He couldn’t latch properly when his body was held incorrectly. I couldn’t hold him properly when he kept thrashing all about. Each feeding became a battle for both of us. But I didn’t give up. Each and every feeding, before I give him his bottle, I try to breast feed him first. When both of us got exhausted wrestling with my boobs and fail miserably, I give him his formula.

Then, a week after his birth, my milk started to slow down its flow. I started to get frantic again and was asking every living woman with obviously-you-have-experience-in-breast-feeding-if-not-why-you’re-boobies-are-sagging on how to increase breast milk. Some said eat young papaya soup. Some said eat lots of porridge. I tried it all but still, nada. By the way, young papaya soup? HOLY MONKEY BUTTHOLES! IT’S BITTER LIKE A MOTHER BUTTCRACK!

To make matters worst, I was hit by postpartum depression. I was supposed to be happy with my newborn but instead I was constantly feeling sad, irritable, and angry and sometimes I cried for no reason whatsoever. I was tired due to no sleep. I had no appetite to eat whatsoever. And I kept thinking of running away from everyone including my son but love and guilt glued my feet to the ground.

After a week or so feeling like toenail fungus, I don’t know what made the depression go away, but I was much happier and able to function like a normal human being again. That was when my milk double triple its amount and flowing rapidly and nicely. This time, I know how to hold my son properly during breast-feeding that FINALLY, both of us sigh a relief and enjoy our bonding moments together.

At the same time, I was drinking Earth Mama Organic Milkmaid Tea, an herbal tea for breastfeeding mothers. I bought 10 boxes from a helpful loyal reader –Zhuriqa Jalil at Bee Little, who recommended me this tea to increase milk production (trust me, this lady helps me A LOT in giving advices about pregnancy and babies. I owe her BIG TIME).

Honestly, I don’t know whether my happy mindset or the tea that helps to keep my breast milk to flow steadily until now. It could be both or it could be one of the other. Whichever it is, I am so grateful that I can breastfeed my son again. Oh I still give him his formula to top up coz my milk alone is not filling for him but I’m not the type who would beat myself up for bottle-feeding him. I’m not that monsters of a mother who gung-ho die-die must feed baby with liquid from boobies’ type. I’m flexible. I know both ways still benefits my son in every kind of ways. Like how I was okay getting a c-sec instead of going natural.

It is all still God’s willing (takdir). Everything is God's willing.