about breastfeeding

This is my opinion about breastfeeding (sorry, this is not a post where I tell you what brand I use for the breastpumps,how I stow it in the freezer, what freezer I use, with pictures etc etc).

1. Break the Market. Please.
Google-lically speaking, there are one or two prevalent brands of breastpumps that really helps breastfeeding.   Its too bad no more marketing brains are trying to break this monopoly, as breastpumps are unnecessarily expensive. Some say its an investment, long term savings instead of buying tins of formula milk. But when you ask working mothers with a monthly household income of RM2000, the lowest range of pump are priced at RM700, they'll say "breastfeeding is for the rich, because we can't afford the breastpump, the freezer, the ebm storage and whatnots". And you said breasfeeding is au naturel. It should be. But it doesn't help when the ones that really encourages milk production are pricey.

You know what I think: I think this is all is a marketing scam. My friend, who is a specialist doctor, who has to work 8-12 hours a day, sometimes for 48 hours when she's on call, managed to breastfed her daughter until the kid is almost 2. And yet she used only Manual Hand Breastpump. There you go. All you need is your own determination. Don't fall in the trap of the marketing bubble.

2. Alienation.
And to those mothers who do not breastfeed, don't feel bad. I'm sure you have your own reasons why. If breastfeeding mothers/relatives/friends pressure you, just shoo them away. They know nuts about you and you kid. There's nothing honourable in them being able to breastfeed, just to belittle others who don't.

If they tell you that you're still fat because you don't breastfeed, tell them its vice versa, without exercise the babyfats are still going to be there to stay. Haha!

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love, unconditional

At first, he was adamant not to pay for his sister’s bail.

As a school teacher, he felt the amount of RM3,000.00 was too much for a man like him to fork out just to let his sister out from the prison, a repeat drug offender, nonetheless her first time in jail.

When our eyes met, he told me maybe its best for her, to stay in jail this one time, for her to learn her lesson, this time. It wasn’t easy for him to care for her sister’s daughter, and he had his own share of mouths to feed. And it wasn’t easy to fend his sister’s addiction, he was tired of his own hope that maybe she’ll change.

As I accompanied the family out of the prison, the client told me her next trial date is fixed on 1^st July. Teary eyed, her brother told her he simply cannot afford to pay for her. She cried. Her 6 year old daughter, cried without any sound.

Just today I received a call from the brother. He told me, he’ll find a way to pay.

When I asked him what made him change his mind, he related to me the same day we went to prison, the daughter, with her grubby hands brought to him the calendar and showed to him “Mummy out from prison, 1 July is  Friday, paklong”.

That was more than enough reason. When he felt a child missing her own mother.

Love, unconditional. A child's love.

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luaran

Scenario 1:

Was eating at a vegetarian restaurant with Karen. We were suggested by the friendly waitress to order "vegetarian chicken", "vegetarian beef" etc -its egg/tofu based with artificial flavours. Karen, who is a devout Buddhist, said "ni macam topeng. muka saja hijau tapi hati masih merah".

Scenario 2:
At a mamak restaurant with Mr K, I pointed to him rows of Barbican (drinks that imitatae the taste of alcoholic drinks) which is oxymoronically labelled as "halal beer". He said "buat pe. Macam hipokrit".

Why do people try to create alternatives for the things already forbidden?
Macam nak menipu diri sendiri, luar je nak menunjukkan diri tu baik (dengan ikut yang halal), tapi hati masih teringin nak merasa (yang haram).

Kalau hati hijau, luar pun akan hijau juga.
Tapi bukan sebaliknya.

Would you? (tofu perisa babi) hmm.

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cloud nine

A small bookstore.

Corner with windows, pebbled driveway.

The original first editions on top of the bookshelves.

Mockingbird. Critus. Nineteen weeks. Graham Greenes.

And posters of civic duties (and favourite rock star albums).

Stereo playing softly O Fortuna! sometimes Yellow Submarine.

Books of dissent, comedy, debates, history and beauty.

Nothing on vampires, or loving blood sucking creature that reminds you of bats.

Collectors’ item, The Simpsons included and graphic novels.

Small tables to serve coffee, tea and toast.

One or two customer sitting down,  savouring tuna sandwich.

Students photostating friend’s homework, grandma buying recipes.

And little Hanz, playing, down at the counter, choo choo train.

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Zoe Jane is 19

She's already 19.

Half of her is ready for the future, half is still deep rooted onto her past, her home.

Home where she laughs, where she seldom cries, and lives her life, showered by those who loves her the most. Sometime she leave home (and comes back often), to become whatever she is destined to be, may her steps be graced and blessed by God Almighty, all the same out there where danger lurks, people seemed to be in line to hurt her, where other strangers couldn't care less.

But she;ll be bringing our prayers for her to be safe, be protected and blessed.

This time around, she's a year older, no longer a small toddler, but a full grown beautiful maiden (who is now a baby sitter, no longer the baby sister).

My Zoe Jane.

Happy 19th birthday.

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july 14!

Baru nak happy sebab esok hari minggu.

Tapi Mr K tak jadi balik. Ada exam surgery next week.

(Good luck to you, dear.)

Terus rasa down.

Takpelah. Esok hari yang happy sebab dah plan nak buat birthday celebration untuk Zetty, ikut stail favourite kami iaitu picnic sambil main game. (Ala tapi Mr K selalu yang paling excited main board game. Takde dia tak berapa best).

Down balik.

Takpelah. Tibe-tibe dapat sms dari babysitter aka birthday girl Hanz, katanya baby dah pesta poo-poo kat rumah. I’ve never been happier to see human faeces until I became a mother. Alhamdulillah after 3 days of no poo. Yay! Siap beli cherries and pears lagi, nak buat puree untuk Hanzalah makan time picnic esok. Fun and fibrous, senang nak poo. Tula.. hari-hari makan bubur nasi, mana taknya sembelit cinonet ibu tu. (When I actually initially plan to give him rice alternate days). Dasar pemalas. Tapi sebenarnya puree lagi senang. Kukus je. Takpun mash. dahla buat fresh hari2, so storage tak jadi hal ape. Tapi bubur nasi + kentang + ikan tenggiri favourite Hanzalah. Nak buat cemana, perut melayu, ikut Ayah dia.. kalau ikut ibu dia.. hari2 makan puree pun takpe. Sigh.

Apesal la dok ingat kat boyfriend yang kesian kena pulun tu..biarla dia..huhu..


Tengah layan blues, ternampak burung gagak berak kat kepala orang. Orang tu menggelabah. Haha sakan gelak. Tapi orang-orang tua kata, orang yg kena tahi burung tu lucky. Sigh. Kenapa kau tak yakyak kat aku wahai gagak? even birds don't like me. (Err biarkan. Tengah blues semua pun ntahapahapa). Sedih balik.

Tibe-tibe officemate datang bagi training pass Liverpool.

Hehe. 

J

What sadness? 

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a comma. not a dot.

(It’s a bug. Once you start, you can’t stop. I’ve been blogging for 3 days now. Gila poyo).

And like I true kaypohchi, I started to check on friends’ blogs too. For convenience, I’ll check those who are on my RSS tabs. And there’s always this unspeakable feeling when I see J’s Nafastari blog. The last time he blogged was 4 months ago and as you might know already, he died sometime ago from a car accident. He is survived by his wife and two daughters.

The very notion of someone you knew passed away will always make you think about how frail human lives are. How temporary everything is. Life and death, separated by a blink.

Even when I start writing this, I still stumble with the is/was. Too late to write, but lest be forgotten this is a small reminder that life is just a vessel for the afterworld.

J was a coursemate at our alma mater. We were never close much while we were both reading law, but while he was stationed in Pakistan and I was in India, we chatted regularly on the ym. We always compared ‘notes’ on living abroad, and when Embun was born, I congratulated him, he said “Nur makin cantik kan Af?”.

That’s how I will remember him. A loving husband and father.

Now when I look at my little universe, and I realized that everything I own is on loan. Nothing is forever. Nothing is mine. Not even my own breath.

 Thing is, I’m a little bit whiney when it comes about having to be so far away from the husband. I love weekends when he comes home, but I hate Sundays when he’ll head back South. I keep on telling myself that I’ll endure this for a year plus, and then that’s it. I dread when Monday starts, when I have to be on my own again. I have great respect for J's wife who is now caring for their daughters on her own, and my experience seems so trivial compared to hers.

What I need to learn is to be grateful~ distance is not a separation, even if it is, nothing is forever.

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of obedient wives and few good men

After months of underutilized syariah practice, and yonks of years since I last laughed hard at memorizing the atomic structure of Faraid formulas, today I had the chance of honing the almost inexistent skills.

Private law is not a favourite niche of mine. Its too emotional, and as a woman (and a wife and a daughter) I tend to get too biased for my own good. But I’m not a hardened feminist, as I believe not ALL equality can or shall be achieved. One to its own!

But what about the exclusive classes offered by the Obedient Wives’ Club?

You know, the recent hullabaloo nonsense saying that if wives are more ‘creative’ on bed, then their men won’t go straying away to find other ladies. Up to a point they did say something about being a ‘whore on the bed’.

Since when (yes the Obedient Wives Club is headed by Muslim women) marriage is predominantly dominated only by affairs of the bedroom? Statistic shows that breakdowns of marriage are caused more by economic factors, socio-economics and life arrangements.

I don’t think it helps if wives have to be dirty, or feel dirty, or be looked as one for marriage to last. 

I think its all about mutual respect. What remains in the bedroom, stays in it. But when men stray outside to another, it has got nothing to do with his wife, it him who’s having the problem.

Alamak. Biased lagi. Haha baru nak ngutuk the obedient wives club.

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bills bills bills

Just another day. Drafting. Pleadings. Work.

I have been accused of neglecting this dear blog of mine, without defence, but I'm reminded to a friend who told me the hardest feeling to describe is happiness.

Bila hati kacau, I tend to write more.
So yes, am no longer brooding.
Happy.


Happiness is defined in a 9kg healthy baby, with 6 tooth and a penchant for adventure.
That's all I ask for.

On a hindsight, I miss my mischievous curious rebellious me. The one that fuelled the writer/blogger in me, to write with abandon.To write in almost, teenage angst but in ofcourse responsible rage (I don't write too personal post here. He he. Misteri itu manis. PDA itu yucky)

That, or I'm to miserably busy with work. Not too bad, but I hate chasing clients for bills. I hate keeping up with the costcentre I'm running about for. Hence this post. :)

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