A Year Older

I turn 36 today.
Well, I might as well come out with it, now that I have passed the 35th mark.
In light of a frenetic lifestyle (and FB distraction), I haven't been writing for a long while and though I sorely miss this outlet, I am not comfortable jotting my thoughts in a jumble-up manner.
I will try to make this as short and cohesive as possible since my penchant for wordiness tends to get the best of me.

It's been a fantastic year; thank you God for all Your blessings.
While there had been some bumps and troughs in the year, I'd managed to confront or overcome them with the help of loved ones. Although they can offer a word of advice (or more) like a broken record, it was up to me to follow through with an action plan and move along with my life.

It was a year that I found the meaning of blissful solitude. I began to love my own company. I'm not much of a loner, as I feel engulfed with a sense of panic when left alone with my own thoughts. I blame it on all the years abroad being on my own and having to fend for myself. Paradoxically, even though I love being around people, I become overwhelmed when group dynamics don't work out in the way I would imagine it to be. The idealist in me conjures up easy and fast friendships without the other person's personal entanglements getting in the way of fun. How selfish, foolish and naive I can be at 35.

It dawned on me on one of my solitary jaunts that I think better and clearly when I'm alone. The rudimentary truths behind my funk seem to sink in and voluntarily dissipate through a favourite medium : coffee. I always feel much better after a cuppa, but combined with a newfound sense of tranquility I am over the top!

On the home front, I am discovering my domestic kitchen goddess as I whip up recipes which have previously been out of reach in terms of culinary persuasion. In other words, I am too lazy to dabble in the art of food preparation. Nowadays, I won't think twice of cutting and blitzing those onions if I find the urge to eat something I want. Before, I would settle for second rate substitutes. I might try a hand at making oven-bound desserts from scratch next. I don't think my present cekodok pisang and bubur kacang count.

As far as my relationships with the closest and dearest go, there were inevitable ups and downs that I must let go off and learn to forgive. Myself mostly. Only then can I rebuild the bridges and take away a lesson from the experience.

With Sadia entering the domain of school life, I also went through the initial uneasy transition that came with her absence. At first, I felt guilty for enjoying the freedom to be had from the time she stayed in school. Thereafter, it had turned into a routine which I looked forward to. It provides me with ample time to spruce up the house and attend to other household duties. Try as I might to spend more time with her off-school, the demands of a tot unfortunately trump those of a preschooler. I do long for a one-on-one quality time with my daughter without that harried and hurried feeling of multi-tasking. One that does not necessarily confine to the bedroom when the lights are dim for reading time.

In the anamcara department, I grappled with the other half's increasing and tiresome workload after we moved to Dubai as a family. Yet, our long-drawn tradition of mall haunting continued apace in this mall nation of UAE. Suffice to say, six years of marriage have mellowed our expectations and accurately predicted the mood swings involved.

Impatience and temper are two negative traits which took centrestage the previous year, what with the nomadic life which I led following the other half's abrupt placement to Dubai. Obviously, I am not proud nor pleased with my slow improvements on this prickly issue of character detoxing. Thus, it is definitely an achievement worth reaching for in my old age where hereditary high blood pressure reigns supreme.

Irreversible grey hairs notwithstanding, here's to 36 and a lifetime of adventures that it will bring.

Settling down

(Originally written on Facebook on September 22nd, 2010)

Don't get me wrong. I love Malaysia. But I was more than relieved to leave after the frenetic two-week Eid vacation there.

I have come to that age where familiarity and routine are the order of the day. Probably having two small kids has shifted my perspective on the need for wanderlust.

But the truth is Dubai has become a home that I love. Finally I feel settled.

Ever since the rumours had hovered last December on my husband's imminent post for the Iraqi project, I was beleaguered by a sense of displacement in our new Denai Alam home. We could not really spruce up the place now that we came to know this big piece of news. And we just moved into this new house the previous month of November! What a drag!

Then in January, it was confirmed that he'd be posted overseas. Our refurbishment and furniture plans had to be shelved. Although, at times, we ignored the call for practicality and installed some fixtures to make our Denai place more live-in.

March quickly came and he was off to Dubai to set up the company's office there. At first, it would be for a week. Thereon, it stretched to two weeks. At last, he was requested to stay for a month!

That was when I felt that our lives were in limbo. I had to stay at my parents' in Kota Damansara the whole duration of his absence, due to safety and baby reasons.

I was more stressed here, even with the help of my mom and occasional help from my eldest sister during the weekend. I felt that I was living out of my suitcase. I missed the idea of a home. The kids, especially Sadia, missed it too, but she was more than pleased to be close to her cousins during the weekends.

Hubby then came back after a month and had to leave again in ten days' time for a fortnight worth of work in Dubai.

Back to the roller-coaster feeling of living nomadic again after he left. Granted, I was grateful for all the help I got. I don't know how I'd cope without this support system.

At first, I was sad to leave behind the support system that I'd grown so accustomed to in that one-and-half months' time. Later, as I acclimatized to the new place and established a routine, I was more at ease with life in a foreign land. My family is here.

Finally, after six months of ambiguity, I feel at home. A place where I belong. A sanctuary; my inner sanctum.

So it's good to be home after spending the last few days of Ramadan and subsequently Eid in Malaysia. The kids quickly ran to their favourite toys and I switched on my favourite toy - the Apple :)

Familiarity indeed breeds contentment.

Birth : (Hi(s)tory)

Caution: Due to some graphical content, readers' discretion is advised.

It started with a name.

Like most things conceptualized, a sketch on a piece of paper, a rough draft, we first came out with a name.

It was in late 2005 that the name 'came up', when we had yet to know the gender of our firstborn. Like the name of the female name we had chosen, we loved it straightaway. When we got a girl, the name was momentarily forgotten, tucked somewhere in the deep recesses of our mind and ready to be plucked out at a moment's notice.

And the notice arrived. Towards the end of 2008, I found out that I was expecting again. It was a news most welcome. I had longed for and wanted a second child so that Sadia would have a sibling to play with. Expectedly, I was thankful to God that my prayers were answered.

And quite unexpectedly, the second pregnancy was more tiresome compared to the first one as I had to tend to a demanding and clingy toddler, upkeep an apartment as well as bear with the hormonal swings that accompanied it. In addition, my other half's constant travels and heavy workload wreaked further havoc on my out-of-whack system.

Those issues aside, we were more than elated when the good doctor confirmed and informed us of the baby's gender. As he put it, the conspicuous image on the ultrasound was unmistakable. It's a boy! In the back of my head, I had illogically thought we would get another girl going by the pattern wherein my twin sister had conceived two boys. However, Allah knows best and I feel blessed by His bounties.

So the chosen male name resurfaced like a beautiful spring day; ready to immerse in its radiance and splendour. Yet, despite our exuberance, I admit we did hit a snag in committing to the name. We discovered the name had already been used for the son of someone whom we would rather not be associated with. Well, that's a tad dramatic. Let's just say, the person is plain annoying.

We even went the length of finding another name, rifling through pages and pages of Name Books just for the sake of not wanting to be accused of purportedly copying the name of this person's kid. Yes, we were that determined. Later on - towards the end of my third trimester - we decided that enough is enough and we would stay with the name no matter what the consequences. On hindsight, it was foolish to belabour this fateful coincidence and to solely base our name decision on a person whom we didn't know much or care about. In fact, the person only lives at the periphery of our world and by that definition itself, is of no consequence to us at all! Moreover, I believe our reservation also lies in the fact that we stubbornly want the name to be an original, at least in our 'Malaysian' circle. Well, at least that's what I felt.

Before details of the important event fade from my memory, let me do the honours of sharing them with my few readers. I still remember the few days leading to the BIG BANG. It was my husband's birthday on the 10th and he was swamped at work in the past few weeks that he would come back home tired and pensive (well, he's usually pensive near to his birthday, but that's another story).

We took a taxi to join him in KLCC for his birthday celebration, but our festive mood turned sour with Sadia being uncooperative and misbehaving throughout the rest of the evening. In retrospect, Sadia's uncharacteristic behaviour seemed to portend of things to come. The dampener therefore cut our plan short with hubby wanting to shelf the birthday treat until the weekend. Little did he know what the weekend had in offering for him! For all of us!

The next day, Thursday, hubby attended and headed some important work presentations for which Sadia and I only managed to see him later at night. On Friday, my twin sister wanted to see me for tea after work since she needed a picker-upper and promised to treat me for it. This was once in a blue moon offer I couldn't refuse! We met on the now defunct Dome cafe on the first floor of KLCC. I remember what I had ordered - my all-time favourite Honeycomb Goldrush Ice-Blended - the only caffeine kick availed to me for the day. Luckily, Sadia's mood had improved and hubby came out from work early as he would be working on the weekend to wrap up a deadline. Or so he thought.

We dropped by to get dinner somewhere in Ampang Point area, and had an interesting, Seinfeld-like conversation revolving on 'ayam katik' (spring chicken) for some strange, inexplicable reason. We didn't know what an 'ayam katik' alludes to, and I fondly recall that, in order to sate my curiosity, I even texted my mother to ask for her definition late that night!

As a normal occurrence late in the third trimester, my late night toilet trips were exceptionally frequent - to say the least. I woke up that very night - ayam katik conundrum still reeling in my head - and headed towards the throne. When I got back to the bedroom in my groggy state, I was surprised to feel that water trickling down both sides of my inner thigh. Although I was perplexed to see the water coming down - pure or otherwise - sleep trumped the concern and I dozed back in that permanent awkward position.

Around 6:30 or so, I woke up again as I was alarmed by my relatively wet condition in bed. Bed-wetting did I? My biggest fear was confirmed as I tried to ascertain if it was indeed amniotic fluid (and not urine) that pooled the bedsheet. I hastily stirred my husband from his much-needed sleep and told him what had taken place during the course of the night.

Since we weren't wholly certain whether it was my water that had broken or something else altogether, we decided to go to the hospital. Our doubt arose from the fact that my amniotic sac was artificially ruptured in my first pregnancy. However, in the back of our mind, we were sure that this was IT. So sure we were that my hubby wanted to drop by the office that same Saturday morning before going to the hospital as he had to delegate some important work to others on an important project deadline.

Before we drove there though, I called my mother asking for her opinion on my 'wet' situation and she implored me to go to the hospital ASAP. So she and my siblings were so alarmed that I was still puttering about KLCC in the wee hours of Saturday morning, waiting for my other half who must made sure everything ran smoothly in his absence from work!

And when the fluid that ran the side of my legs seemed to increase over time while Sadia and I sat in La Cucur, I had to call him to hurry up. I felt uncomfortable sitting down and panicked that the baby's health would be in jeopardy withe each ensuing trickle.

We arrived in the hospital and went straight to the labour ward on the 3rd floor. I gave the nurses on duty my Pre-Registration Labour Card and they took my weight. Ironically enough, the same nurse that assisted in Sadia's birth was on duty and she recalled who we were! I then changed into the sterile hospital gown before the nurse wired me to an EFM (Electronic Fetal Monitor).

Little Sadia became alarmed looking at my bulging stomach being strapped to a series of elastic belts and was almost reduced to tears that my husband decided that it would be best for all of us that he distracted her someplace else. At first he brought her downstairs to roam about, but as the wait grew longer, they went to the nearby GE Mall. Later on, hubby brought her home for a bath and even put her down for one of her rare naps.

We were dreadfully worried about Sadia when the time would come for hubby to be with me during the crucial stage of labour. Towards the end of my third trimester, we went over the possible alternatives for Sadia when the final stage of labour would commence. Staying at my parents' under the care of my mother and eldest sister whose two small daughters are close with Sadia was one option. Or praying hard that my delivery date would coincide with my in-laws' expected arrival in town. As the second option failed to materialize, we were nonetheless concerned with the first option back then as Sadia was not close to both adults with whom we planned to leave her.

Predictably, like a homing beacon, she could detect Yayah's plan of leave and would cling to his side at all times when they finally made the move to deposit her at my parents' place later that evening. She even refused to engage in the foolproof scheme of baking cookies with her two cousins, my sister and my mother.

As the other half had to entertain and take care of Sadia for most parts of the day, I was left to my own devices in the labour ward. At first, it felt strange being alone with my morbid thoughts and anxieties, as opposed to venting them out to my husband by my bedside. Thankfully, I brought along the laptop which kept me occupied throughout the long, arduous wait to that first set of contractions.

My mother also came to accompany me for a bit while my husband ran his little errands with Sadia. To my great amusement, my mom fell fast asleep on the plush sofa whereas I could not keep still in that confined space of a room. Poor Ma, she must be tired after yesterday's dialysis session. Much to my delight, my twin sister also dropped by with her kids and maid to see how I was faring.

On the medical front, my ob-gyn came to inspect me mid-morning after I was left alone with the EFM whirring soothingly in the background. Following the first check-up, he instructed the ward nurse on duty to give me the enema to expedite the progress of my labour. As I had fervently expressed the desire for a childbirth as natural as possible in a previous ob-gyn appointment, my good doctor had respectfully worked around that parameter.

If people were to ask me what was the most painful and unbearable part of my second delivery, I would have to say the 'invasive', physical examination - something that I'd leave to the readers' imagination. I dreaded, cringed and writhed in pain every time the doctor or the midwife came to check the opening.

When my labour progress left much to be desired, the ob-gyn advised me on introducing oxytocin intravenously to help things move along. As I was getting exhausted with the long wait, I duly and unequivocally agreed. I still remember the first prick to find my vein was unsuccessful and left some bruising. The nurse on duty was relatively new, and another senior nurse assisted her instead.

The strong contractions started to kick in from thereon, causing me to consider the option of taking epidural before the pain became worse. I even consulted with my hubby over the phone who was getting ready to leave for my parents' at the time. After less than half an hour mulling over the slight chance of improvement in my pain threshold this time around, like a desperate woman, I hastily asked for the anaesthetist on duty to administer the God-sent pain reliever.

Since I was alone throughout most of the 'latent' labour period, I relied on the nurses on duty for moral support when the anaesthetist punctured a hole at the back of my spine. I remember gripping tightly the scrawny hand of one young Chinese nurse as the procedure took place, while the more senior Malay nurse reassured me that everything was alright. With the epidural and its top-up mechansim nestled comfortably behind me, I began to feel very tired. It had been a grueling day and the ordeal was far from over.

I also recall trying to arrange for Sadia's sleeping arrangement in the hospital (read: extra bed) upon learning that she would not, in a million years, stay at my parents on her own accord. Thatexperience, on hindsight, would be too traumatic for her.

That night, all of us (my mother included) decided she would stay with us in the recovery cum maternity ward. The only snag was that a room would be available at a much later time as it was apparently a peak time for giving birth and therefore a high rate of room occupancy.

Since my husband would have to leave Sadia to be by my side, my mom, my eldest sister and her four children (except the eldest boy) all came down from Kota Damansara with him and Sadia. They would be in charge of keeping Sadia distracted and entertained.

Even after they arrived at the hospital, the room was not yet at our disposal much to my disappointment. Later, at my appeal for the nurse's intervention, they managed to secure a room at the eleventh hour for Sadia and the others to rest and play in. I was worried she would look for her dad, but they succeeded in diverting her attention through games and activities as well as plied her with favourite snacks.

By midnight, I strongly felt the urge to 'relieve' the weight that I had been carrying for the last nine months. Just in the nick of time, my husband came to be by my side and hold firmly my right hand. The ob-gyn entered the room in that familiar yellow galoshes, looking very somber and comical at the same time, while my 'Muhibbah' group of nurses prepped the place to aid me in parturition. I remember all of them encouraging me to push when the strong contractions came as indicated by the EFM. Or put it another way, when the compulsion to 'bear down' was intense.

Three to four pushes later, our baby boy emerged from the veritable birth canal and was immediately handed to me. We cooed at him and briefly exchanged our greetings. He then cried for a while when the nurses rushed to clean and examine him for the Apgar scoring. All bundled up, he returned to me with a blank stare as if trying to make sense of his new surrounding. Welcome to the world my son, we love you very much.

My husband gently intoned the azan into Saeif's tiny ears, while the doctor commenced on the third stage of labour and finally stitched me up which, for some strange reason, I was able to feel a slight twinge or two. The epidural must be slowly wearing off from my system, I reckon. And true to form, I developed a terrible itch all over my body as soon as I was drained out of epidural.

Thankfully, Saeif had already been ferried out to the nursery at this time. The itch persisted even after the nurses rubbed my whole body down with several heated hospital-strength wet wipes and gave me a couple of pills to relieve the allergic symptoms.

The scratching urge continued right into the maternity ward where I met my Sadia again since this morning. Funnily, she was wide-eyed to see my 'deflated' tummy. Before I got the chance to tell her what went down (pun intended), the baby was ushered into the room for his inaugural feeding. So Sadia was hit with another surprise - a newcomer to the family - and she gingerly touched the infant to make sure that he was real. As if all these were too surreal for her. I could tell she was not sure how to respond, but a tinge of jealousy overcame her when I cuddled and nursed the baby. She wanted to snuggle next to me as well and cried in protest when she was taken away.

Undoubtedly, Saeif was an addition that all of us needed to get used to. Now that he is one year old, he has grown leaps and bounds - physically, emotionally and behaviorally. His signature sheepish smile always boosts your mood and that shy, boyish act makes you instantly forget his naughty antics (especially when he flashes that smile along with it).

The gradual adjustment period played a pivotal role in understanding his developing personality, and embracing him into the familial equation. He has become the linchpin that glues our family closer. Saeif, you melt my heart every time you crack that cheeky, knowing smile, and I feel blessed by your continuing presence in our lives.

Reminiscence

June 1997

The night's stillness is my steady companion,

As I lay awake to pen this whimsical thought,

For an occasion so special I shall never forget.

That sincere smile etched in my wretched mind,

Not a trace of veneer in this transit place,

A 'Sunny' California where I felt desolate.

A connection was easy from the first time we spoke,

With him around I could bring my guard down,

Along with my idiotic thoughts and childish sounds.

Friends cheered us on for an expected union,

An adolescent rush yet reined in my emotions,

With a heart at stake I proceeded with caution.

The college years whizzed by like the wind,

Our special bond had evolved and matured,

Is the next logical step in store for sure?

Alas, maturity and a string of sticky issues,

Came to the fore when the L-word prevailed,

Could a thing so good take the wind out of our sails?

When it is yours, it will come back to you,

A wise adage that manifested in the end,

Obstacles aside, we gave us a second chance.

Beautiful wedding and five years on,

How inspiring it is to grow old with you,

To learn from mistakes and ask forgiveness too.

Have a Happy Birthday to my soulmate,

My other half and my partner in crime ;) ,

Here's to more celebrations in our lifetime.

May 2010

Accident Happens

That's what my sister said when I told her about the incident. Ironically, that's what also Sadia said a few minutes into the accident. My heart swelled by her feeble attempt at convincing both of us. I wish I was allayed by that assertion, but I still felt contrite. A string of 'Should-Have's entered my then frazzled mind.

That's why it is called an accident. Because it was not premeditated, nor was it an freakish act of natural disaster. Nonetheless, unlike the latter, it still has an element of control which I could have adroitly applied.

Before I heap more ambiguity into the story, I'd better cut to the chase and say it - an iron fell onto Sadia's head.

The accident took place last Tuesday, June 1st mid-morning after I had finished bathing the two kids. Done with dressing them up, I was about to spritz Sadia's long hair with a detangler spray when Saeif approached the iron's electrical cord and began tugging at it. I said "No, don't do it Saeif", and quickly positioned the iron further in towards the wall on the ironing board so it wouldn't wobble any longer after Saeif's first attempt.

My mind was preoccupied with something else when I went back to tackling the hair of Sadia who was sitting on the floor in the bedroom. There I was combing her hair nicely, and when I was about to quietly congratulate myself on a job well done, whoosh came down the ironing board with a flying iron. In split second, Saeif lay down on the floor with the board on top of him. Frantically, I made sure whether the board was heavy (no, it was somewhat lightweight) and he was safe (yes, he was).

In that same instant, Sadia, whose tears streamed down her cheeks, told me she was 'ouchie' (hurt). When I saw blood spewing out from the top of her head, I panicked and cried. I immediately took her bath towel lying nearby from their earlier bath together and put pressure on the bloody spot. As the towel turned crimson red with each application, I began to feel frightened for Sadia.

I hastily called Minan and in a barely comprehensible voice, told him what just happened. Amid our cries together - Saeif was the loudest as he was in shock of the situation and wailed uncontrollably.

He wanted me to hold him and soothe his fear, but I had to attend to Sadia's injury with a towel in one hand and Sadia in the other. Poor Saeif was thrashing on the carpet while I watched helplessly. At one point I tried holding him in one free hand, but he pushed it aside and continued sobbing inconsolably. Sadia thankfully had calmed down after I distracted her with a series of questions. Still, she was afraid ("Ma, I'm afraid") of her injury and the sight of blood that came in contact with my lips must have shook her further ("Ma, what's that on your lips?").

Minan arrived home 10-15 minutes later and knocked wildly on the door as he had forgotten to bring his keys home. Thank God his office is near to our home. Carrying an inconsolable baby and holding firmly onto the hand of an injured and scared toddler, I opened the door.

Daddy's little girl, Sadia began crying again when her dad was at the doorway. Minan took Sadia in his arms while I handled Saeif who was still in his crying fits. I proceeded to the bedroom to calm him down and nurse him. Exhausted and coupled with the fact that it was his nap time, Saeif fell easily into deep sleep.

Sadia had also calmed down with her dad in the living room. Upon Minan's examination of the wound, he said the gash was rather deep and still oozing a bit. That moment, I'm thankful that my husband was an active PBSM member in secondary school. I'd not be able to ascertain the extent of the injury on my own.

After preparing Saeif's 'bottled' lunch in a jiffy and settling a niggling problem with a cable tv provider over the phone (several bothersome phone exchanges with them were in effect), we left the apartment and took a taxi to the panel clinic. It was about 20-25 minutes' drive there and Sadia was singing a song she usually make up in the taxi to kill the time. In other words, she is being her normal self again. The driver even turned the volume of his Indian radio station to drown Sadia's voice. Or perhaps giving her an alternative to the same ditty she sang in the car.

At the clinic, the doctor examined Sadia's injury and gave my husband an earful for not being careful around the house. I didn't go with them as I was feeding Saeif his lunch at the spacious waiting area. Moreover, we wanted to avoid another crying scene should Sadia's gash need to be stitched up. And the presence of a curious Saeif might deter Sadia from cooperating and complying.

The doctor also informed Minan that the cut was not a blunt and swollen one which might otherwise indicate an internal bleeding. Thank God! However, she cautioned if there were any signs of lightheadedness or vomiting thereafter, we are to bring her back immediately.

After the nurse cleaned the wound area and patched it with three slivers of plasters, we got the green light to go home.

Alhamdulillah, she is doing well and playing like before. She is, however, still wary of her brother coming near the ironing board. Nowadays the iron goes straight to a 'safe shelf' after Minan finishes using it.

I am very much thankful to Him that Sadia is fine. On hindsight, it could be worse. Little Saeif could be the one getting hurt. Or the impact of the hit could be more forceful. God forbid.

Divine intervention is the most powerful thing one can always rely and pray on.

Yes, accident does happen. We just have to be extra vigilant and less distracted next time.

Greetings from Dubai!

Dear friends and family,

I am happy to report that my family and I have safely settled into our new quaint home in Dubai. Located in the heart of town near to The Dubai Mall (TDM), it makes life easier to adjust when you have the requisite amenities, facilities and escapades right at your fingertips. Notwithstanding the notorious summer heat that is slowly building up, the new living arrangement sure beats having to drive around and find groceries with two small children adapting to an alien environment along with you. Or the sheer feat of crossing the big road in this dry heat with two kids just to get to the other side where the mall operates.

Thus, I have a lot to be thankful for. In a word, Alhamdulillah.

So what if it only boasts a one bedroom? It is big enough for me and my family and provides us with a much welcome security. I just love the view of the Dubai Fountain with its spectacular and theatrical water shows everyday and the twinkling lights from the tallest building in the world, Burj Khalifa (Burj means Tower) in the background.

My life has been one helter-skelter in the run-up to the departure date to DBX. With the bad flu hitting the whole family, packing for the move had been slow and taken a back seat to tending to the kids. Health-wise, I wasn't up for clearing the things up as well. But everything came through in the end as we learned to prioritize what was needed to be done and settled first. The rest will be settled once my husband goes back again to Malaysia for meetings.

By the end of first week in 'Arabland' - as Sadia calls it - I had gradually gotten used to what was expected of me here. Save for conditioning our skins to the scorching sun, things are now slowly in place. Physically and metaphorically. Predictably, we had to cover some major expenses going into the new home. Mind you, a lot of things are needed in an unfurnished house.

Home amenities already available include a kitchen stove, microwave and conventional ovens, a refrigerator, a dishwasher and a washing cum dryer machine. Oh yeah, there is also a jacuzzi nestled at a corner of the patio. Hubby had already purchased a sofa bed, coffee and dining tables, two dining chairs and a king-size bed before he left for Malaysia to pick us up. We were more than relieved when we finally got a television for the apartment last Thursday, installed it on Saturday and set the cable tv (called 'Du') up last Monday.

15 boxes and two carpets also arrived during the first week on Wednesday, after a delay of four days when problems arose with respect to the missing documents from the Malaysian shipping counterpart. All the boxes have been unpacked, except for the playpen and a toddler car seat.

On hindsight, I should have brought more diapers, baby toiletries and babywipes as they are expensive here and more food stuff like my favourite Nescafe Tarik 3-in-1 mix. Hopefully hubby can bag those along when he goes back next time for a meeting or two.

As far as my first impression of Dubai goes, I have to agree with my other half that it is very much like KL, but with a variety of abaya style, Arab headgear and 'Kandura' (long white cloak) worn by Arab nationals (see here for further explanation on a typical UAE wardrobe choice). Moreover, there is a varying degree of conservatism opted by Arab women with respect to the covering of their face (Burqa-like) encompassing the closure of the face, save for a slit for the eyes, or a total coverage of the face area with a piece of black diaphanous cloth called Gishwa. Other Arab ladies do wear the headscarf like some Malaysian ladies, covering up to their shoulders and wearing appropriate Western-style clothes. In short, a whole gamut of fashionwear - from the elaborate designs of the Abayas to the decolletage-revealing summer dresses) can be found under one roof in a Dubai mall! (Like my twin used to say, those 'kemban' type of maxi dresses that caused an uproar in KLCC are de rigueur at least in TDM area.)

Yes, Dubai is a cosmopolitan with a twist. Indian nationals drive the cabs here and most of them reside in an area called Karama, which I have yet to venture into. Expats galore crawl the city centre, and more are coming back after the financial crisis that hit UAE early this year. In fact, the city's population consists more of expats and other nationals as opposed to Arabs. Beside Indians, a noticeable demographic are Filipinos who work in the service and F&B industries. They are practically everywhere and usually reside an hour's drive away in UAE's third largest emirate called Sharjah. They are hired mainly due to their proficiency in English, as compared to those from other 'able-and willing' developing countries.

Since we came here, Filipinos have always mistaken us as one of them and proceeded to converse with us in Tagalog. Hubby once quipped that we might as well learn Tagalog because it beats explaining to them that we are not Filipinos!

Another thing needs getting used to is the high cost of living that often accompany when one choose to stay in an Expat Central like Dubai. Food and Beverage are a tad expensive and so is the grocery spending. Probably it is because we have yet to try and shop in a hypermarket like HyperPanda and Carrefour.

But I love the fact that many types of food are on offering here, ranging from Taco Bell, Krispy Creme, Garrett's caramel PECAN popcorn, Chicago's Deepdish pizza, to my favourite chocolate macaron at Paul cafe (see here for an extensive list of Paul branches in UAE).

And Tania, don't worry, there's a Laduree opening up soon in TDM. Let's go there for a tete-a-tete when you are in town. As for Amy, an upstanding network of Caribou Coffee from Minneapolis assures me that you won't miss home when you come and visit us here. Casual ambience, hubby likens it to San Francisco coffee back in Malaysia, from which he gets his staple of Americano some mornings.

Naim would also like the fact that Au Bon Pain exists here in this grandiose desert, awash with memories of our past excursions in downtown Chicago area. However, I must warn her - widely known for her pet peeve of inefficient service - that the service is 'Pain'fully slow and leaves a lot to be desired. But nonetheless I still enjoy my Mocha Blast. Ina dear, the keen observer and book enthusiast would love whiling the time away at a favourite chocoholic hangout (Godiva, maybe?) and Kinokuniya, both in TDM respectively. My longtime friend Rizby is more of a shutterbug and would probably spend the time snapping photos of interesting attractions and nooks in TDM (The Gold Souk (Market), the larger-than-life Aquarium, the indoor Waterfall, and THE Dubai Fountain).

And my dear twin sister, Nina must love all the designer bags that line up the Fashion Court of TDM and run amok at the Monsoon boutique! Younger sister Dikya can relive her 'Felicity' days by heightening her sensation at Dean & DeLuca cafe, and spend an inordinate amount of time looking at toiletries at a Boots pharmacy. My eldest, Kak Long on the other hand would rather be looking at furniture and other interior designs at either PotteryBarn or Crate & Barrel.

There you have it guys. The interesting and fun scope of my life in the next three years. Malls, connoisseurship and people watching. And God willing, there would be travels in it as well, be it in the Arab peninsula and farther outside the region. Budget, kids and old age permitting, of course.

A New Year Has Dawned

The sound of a rapid succession of fireworks echoing through the air fills me with a sense of nostalgia. Remembering the bygone years when a new year means a list of resolutions in earnest and a long-winding phone call to my beloved. Fast forward six years later, I'm keeping vigil in the bedroom with minimal lighting whilst my babies are fast asleep and my husband is burrowing his head inside a favourite book. A great many things have changed and, as can be expected, with them come sacrifices and casualties of a former lifestyle.

When Sadia entered into the picture a few years back, I had trouble grappling with the fact that there were now three of us in the household. I remember how I became engulfed with new responsibilities and duties and wondered whether I was cut out for motherhood. I was overwhelmed with the changes that seemed to hit me in the face like a tight slap. I had naively thought that somehow having a baby would adapt to my way of life, instead of the other way around. I remember not being prepared, mentally, emotionally and physically. And yet, despite and because of the misgivings and hiccups, I love Sadia with all my heart. Her doe-eyed expression, her cheeky laugh and adorable babbling are the highlights of my day.

Now that she's a toddler, I have to admit she does have a way (or many) of grating my nerves. I find myself sniggering and nodding in agreement to an observation which I stumbled upon at Babycentre where it describes a mother usually longs for her child's baby years as they seem relatively easier in comparison to the challenging, stressful and headache-prone toddler years. Without a doubt, Sadia's tantrums have predictably gotten worse in concurrence with the arrival of her cherubic baby brother.

Remember I wrote that I was afraid that I might forget the smell of Sadia's hair and lose out having to devote more time on the new baby? Well, it is funny how things you wish wouldn't happen, happen anyway. A self-fulfilling prophecy, if you may. I was so caught up in taking care of Saeif - bonding with him and getting so attached - that I had neglected Sadia in the process. Poor Sadia. It was my dear husband who pointed this out to me, and I'm forever grateful to him for opening my eyes to the painful truth. How Sadia was trying to vie for my attention and getting me involved in her activities, but I kept using Saeif, on a subconscious level, as an excuse to get away from my other responsibilities. How I cried buckets when the realization seeped into my conscience.

From that moment on, I resolved to spend more time with Sadia and avoid neglecting her when she wanted me to engage in plays, readings and other recreations. I have two kids now and accordingly, the adjustment to my life begins yet again. And how their unique and differing personalities endear them to me more.


As for Saeif, he is a cheerful and friendly infant who loves the company of people. Unlike his big sister, he readily smiles and warms up easily to others. There are both a pro and a con to this, however; Pro - I can leave him to willing and helpful individuals while I attend to other matters. Con - He wants me around him or gives him a ride on Mama's taxi if there is no other people attending to him. This translates to a difficult time to go over domestic chores. Therein lies my stress factor, and coupled with a clingy toddler, my hands (and time) are always full.

Indeed, my life is full of irony. I always tell myself I love adventures and new things. However, when it comes to changes - unavoidable and expected - around me, I tend to slacken and languish in my assumed roles. In a way, I do hate changes since they impose a new set of rules that I'm not familiar with from which I must learn quickly in order to adapt or suffer the consequences.

Another big change came late last year - Sunday, November 22nd to be exact - when my family and I finally moved from our seemingly small yet cosy apartment to a two-storey house on the other far side of town. As unrelenting as I could possibly be, I predictably discovered avenues to complain about the new living arrangement. Mosquitoes galore, slow water pressure on the second floor of the house, and noisy renovation works from adjacent houses were among the gripes that left me annoyed and wretched.

Luckily it was the school holidays and my dear eldest sister was around to assist me in getting used to the new place - unpacking clothes and kitchenwares and bringing her kids to play with mine - particularly when my other half was seconded to a major project at work which required him to work late for a long period at the office. She and her children were heavensent! They made the transition period much more easier to handle.

Last but certainly not least, a big hearty thank-you goes to my other half who, despite a busy schedule and a demanding project deadline, managed to slot in time to pack for the new house, assembled the beds and other furniture on arrival and even cooked Laksa Sarawak for a small housewarming cum doa selamat gathering a week after.

Over all, 2009 has been a tumultuous year with the first half year saw me waddling along with my watermelon-size tummy and stressing over the arrival of the stork and how I will cope, and the second half had me getting used to the concept of 'four' at home, stressing over a brother's looming wedding and moving to our new house.

Many lessons learned came and went as I turned 35 at the end of the year, among which were (1) Mirroring Obama's buzzword, life is all about CHANGE. One has better go with the flow, or risk being drowned by strong undercurrents. (2) Something's gotta give. Don't expect everything will be status quo after you embark on a change. For instance, after getting married, do behave like you're married. After having a kid or more, do act like you have kids. The same has to be said about writing too. (3) Be at your own peril once you decide to swim against the indomitable current of change. Massive disappointment, heartaches and/or bitterness will ensue. (4) Be less selfish, less self-absorbed and more focused. (5) Those obdurate in embracing change must not be meddled with, as experience has shown, it is best to leave them to their own devices. It is for the sake of your sanity and blood pressure to let them be. They're an incorrigible lot, after all. Sigh. (6) When you thought you have people figured out, the fixed formulas that you made up in your head about them turned out to be grossly wrong. You stand corrected. (7) Pigeonholing people might save you the trouble of digging below the surface, but people deserve to be heard no matter what their station in life. (8) Friendship is still possible to be forged at this age!

With the new year only ten days old, I muse over what is in store for me and pray to Allah for a more peaceful, happier and healthier time for me and my whole family. A healthy dose of patience, retrospection and good deeds are in the cards, God willing. Here's to a wonderful decade for everyone!