as you can probably tell, the lack of updates by hana is a sign of profound malaise. clearly, the switch to non-sahm mode has not been the most joyful of event for her.

which made her question as to who in heck created the work week to stretch for five days and not contain it to just, say, four, or maybe three days?

to which she received a reply from her ever-sensible husband that it was all in the name of a healthy economy and The Big Picture. longer weekends mean longer downtimes, he says. less productivity and lower standards of living. worse still, he came up with the ‘less effective gahmen’ trump card. and in his usual gadget-centric logic, if his handphone is spoilt and requires servicing, a longer weekend would mean a longer time to get it repaired. hmph, the consumerist.

so apparently, long long ago, people, especially in the industrial era, used to work really long hours with really poor working conditions (boo hoo). then in the 1800s, some fella began demanding for shorter work hours, starting some kind of workers’ union, and went around with a catchy phrase, “Eight hours labour, Eight hours recreation, Eight hours rest”. that took quite a while to catch on, but it eventually did for most parts of the world, and May Day or Labour Day had something to do with that, you know, to commemorate the achievement of the labour movement, yadda yadda.

ok, so what’s the point of all this again?

ahh right, i’m *supposed* to be thankful that the work week has been greatly reduced from ancient times when workers were greatly exploited, especially women. but it’s hard to console myself when the fact is that most of the “eight hours of recreation” and “eight hours of rest” is sapped up by the demands of motherhood, leaving little for the self. (yes, i am after all part of Generation Me.)

labour is indeed a great pain for many women – the one experienced in the hospital to expel their offsprings from their wombs, and the one that takes them away from those offsprings eight hours a day, five times a week. the latter being more prolonged and painful for some, like me.

our respite – the forty-eight hours called The Weekend. where family, friends and food are the bonus and remuneration. <3

ok, digressing a little, i cheated (as usual) for the potluck picnic and bought a tray of shepherd’s pie from The Shepherd’s Pie, located at the second floor of Bedok Market Place, just next to our ever-favourite makan haunt, simpang bedok. we could have had it delivered for free, but since we were there for dinner the night before, we dropped by to pick up a frozen tray so we could bake it ourselves on the morning of the picnic.

what can i say, everyone approved, even the husband, the foodie! needless to say, the whole tray was polished off within minutes (as you can see in the picture). definitely tasty, with just the right amount of meat and potatoes. yes, i’m a carb person, i am. i love my potatoes. next time we’ll try the spicier stuff, ok idayana!

the two G.I. janes, aka botak janes. “kakak mia, don’t pull my hair!”

happy 30th! omg we’re old. hurhur.

and that reminds me – aniq’s birthday is coming, AGAIN! ha ha. of course there’s the question of should there or should there not be yet another party this time round.

to which the reply is that it would greatly depend on the economy. namely, the mother and father’s. which means, mummy would have to keep working to sustain that economy, baby. just so you can keep enjoying your birthdays.

crap.

aunty farah, can you save those three candles for him?

maybe i’ll just order a shepherd’s pie and plonk them on it.

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despite my initial resistance to all things raya this year, i couldn’t help myself – there’s just something about last minute raya preparations that make my adrenaline pump, lol!

and of course, it helps when your husband is extra generous this year, ha ha.

when you think about it, it’s a little silly how we go into a mad rush to buy new things or do a makeover, for yourself and the house, to meet the ‘deadline’ that is 1st syawal. surely that’s not what it should be about. but you somehow find yourself sucked into the vortex of self-indulgence that is geylang. a spectacular spectacle of mounds and mounds of clothes, carpets, curtains, everything you could possibly think of, and the highlight of it all, the carnage of food, nevermind the people in other parts of the world who have little to eat, coz just we gotta have those dendengs, right?

in any case, i admit i was suckered in. for the search for good deals. for the last-minute things you think you need. and for the keropok lekor, the japanese balls, and what-have-yous. (but hey you can’t deny a nursing mum who’s fasted all day, the food all goes to the hungry baby! :p) all silly, silly things.

anyway, after four separate trips braving the hot and sweaty shop-lusty crowd, jostling for elbow and not forgetting carpark space, i think we’ve been duly geylang-fied. even aniq has added ‘geylang’ and ‘hari raya’ to his ever-expanding internal dictionary. (his daddy’s currently trying to get him to acquire a taste for old p.ramlee classics with vcds bought from, yep, geylang.)

so tomorrow, the eve of raya, there will be yet more tasks to complete before ‘deadline’ (nothing in the house is cleaned yet, coz, err, too busy going to geylang ha ha).

and to add to the list of things to do, is to celebrate Chewren’s Day at aniq’s school in the morning. of all things he has to wear, instead of a nice baju kurung to celebrate the upcoming raya, he has to wear something denim for the photo-taking, coz, erm, that’s the theme, apparently. now how come we didn’t see a baju kurung in denim, i ask you, geylang?

ok, it’s sahur time. (the last for the year!)

selamat hari kanak-kanak, and good luck meeting your deadlines, people!

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Baby carriers have been around for centuries. Prior to the 1980s, parents worldwide used long cloths, shawls, scarves and even bedsheets to snuggle up their babies and get the chores done… Mothers had to work incredibly hard and didn’t have time to stop and entertain baby, so baby just came along for the ride. It was common sense for mother to use a baby carrier to make her life a little easier.

… and as you can see, dolling up is incredibly hard work for mothers too, lol! especially when you’re in a hurry and no one else wants to entertain baby. women are, after all, naturally wired with an aptitude for multi-tasking, no? :p

Interestingly, strollers were recently marketed in an African town but met with amusement and dismal failure to sell. The mothers wondered why on earth they would need such contraptions, and what was wrong with white people’s babies that they would need to be in such isolation!

- The History of Babywearing

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my mum just told me she’s definitely going to perth in august to visit our relative.

which means, she won’t be around to:

a) cook for us
b) entertain aniq in the day
c) ‘guard’ our often-wandering helper
d) call me everyday to update on things i sometimes half-listen to (goings-on in the family, shopping escapades with her also-retired friends, aniq’s latest mischiefs, etc.)

that’s two weeks of no mum. *whine* how am i going to survive??

sooo, i would like you to help me.

no, not cook for me. or babysit aniq in the day. or keep watch over our helper. or call me everyday to gossip (actually, i don’t mind this so much, just make sure it’s juicy and scandalous).

can you help me sway, cajole, coax, persuade, wheedle, plead, beg my BELOVED husband izad (who loves to stay home, grr) to bring ALL of us with her?

and by all of us, i mean me, aniq & auni. no, no, not you.

the wanderlust bug is making me itch so.

ayu, let’s go shopping for ribbons!

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ok, so we were up till late, as usual, finishing up our W&F work for the day, some time last week. it was about 2am and rin’s dad was fetching her from my place.

she went downstairs and waited by the main road.

she started to feel goosebumps when out of nowhere, a large figure loomed across the road, a young man with menacing eyes. he looked right at her with those eyes, and started walking briskly towards her, as if he was going to pounce on her…

she looked around for her dad, who arrived just in time on his bike, and quickly left the scene. but not before she took one last look behind her – there was no one at all.

of course, it could just be a normal guy trying to scare her. but she insisted it wasn’t, he disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared.

when izad heard about the incident, he immediately thought of a fatal accident that occured in october last year, right around that same bend near our place.

a young man had died while delivering food from a certain fast food chain.

so we googled for the newspaper article, but didn’t find any photos, just a picture of the accident site. (which izad had passed by on that fateful day, on his way home from work. he saw the man bleeding on the ground.)

we knew the date, so rin’s mum did some digging and of all the malay newspapers she still had, that particular day’s edition turned up.

and whaddaya know, there was a picture of the man in the accident.

and… it was him, the same face she saw.

rin’s dad later admitted he saw the figure too, but didn’t mention to her until he heard it from her sister.

so, what do you think??

i have to say, it kinda fascinated me, morbid as it may sound. very ghost whisperer.

to think i almost sent her home that night, which i’ve done before (i wanted to escape with the car for while, go to the petrol kiosk nearby for a late night snack, etc.)

but, erm, don’t expect me to walk (or drive) down that road at 2am in the morning anymore, eh. :S

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there are things to blog about, but by the time i have the time, it’s night time, and the thing i want to blog about, well, it’s not something i’d like to write about at night.

it’s rather… incredible-tale-ish in nature. erm.

meanwhile, don’t forget to watch chef s.o.s tonight. at least we’re not in there to embarrass ourselves. or look ten pounds fatter. face OR butt.

ok, going off now, to parkway.

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you know… it’s one thing to copy ideas (go ahead! take them!), but another thing to copy copywriting.

yes, there’s the word ‘copy’ in copywriting, but that doesn’t mean you can lift one’s carefully-thought-out choice, structure, and arrangement of words, and pass it off as yours.

if there’s one thing we hate, is our efforts in writing being lazily swiped from under our noses.

and please, don’t tell us that the same copywriting can be found everywhere on the net, or that everyone in this country has come up with the same common lines to market a particularly uncommon product, or that nothing is ‘original’ aaanyway. coz that’s just pushing coincidence waaay too far.

and even then, to plagiarise badly?

now that’s just… SimplyMelayu.

:S

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every time someone asks when i’m due (which is what they’re always asking now), it makes me feel like crying.

can someone please make tomorrow be 1st of april??

ps: and to the person with many names/emails, don’t try to lie to get the information you want. you’ve asked one too many questions, and you’re right, it IS damn frustrating! all the way from 2004 (yes, i still have your emails with all your irritating queries), you have been bugging me about my wedding preparations, my baby preparations, my relationship, my friends, bugging us to meet you, etc, right down to my freaking hair colour! come on, enough is enough! you ask once or twice – fine. but repeatedly? who’s the “ignorant” one here? go find your own resources, i’m NOT humouring YOU anymore, and i don’t owe you any favours. don’t expect people to spoonfeed you all the time, and don’t mess with a sick and pregnant lady – i’ll claw your eyes out if i hear one more peep out of you.

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question: how many times do you celebrate your 30th birthday?

answer: why, 30 times, of course! :p

enough, no more! we have a 31st birthday to celebrate at the end of THIS year, ok. :S

thanks again eh, even though dah basi macam nasi dalam periuk satu bulan.

speaking of 30, i just collected my new I/C yesterday. why DO we need to change I/Cs at 30 anyway? i think it’s a new policy coz those born in the early 70s like kak nina hasn’t heard of this change-I/C-at-30 rule. no fair! they get to look forever 17 (or whatever age they last made their I/Cs were lah).

i’d done mine as soon as i received the notification, or risked looking waaay unrecognisable nearer the end of this pregnancy, or even post-pregnancy, and look forever fat.

the result? a lopsided, creepy-looking smile, thanks to the unprofessional, home-taken, digitally-photographed picture. bah.

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Man with Womb = Woman

Bat with Womb = Wombat?

(ah, the things an idle mind produces…)

somebody, help me!

*counts the seconds till holidays begin*

ok let me think of something to distract myself.

to-do list says: ‘buy xmas gift for $10 to exchange at year-end party’.

how come during hari raya nobody has a party to exchange small envelopes with money ah? ok ok, nevermind.

was thinking of conjuring a gift hamper courtesy of items from those $2-dollar shops, like Daiso. hmm, clothes pegs… Magic sponge… mini manicure set… large bag of twisties… how much is that already? ok, let’s throw in a seat cushion. i sure could do with one myself here. butt is definitely sore from all this sitting in front of the computer. and coming up with loser $10 gift hampers.

can i just give a small envelope with money?

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