I am sorry

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."

x

I have a foul temper when provoked. I can be a super bitch when angered. At times like this, I utter bitter words that I don't mean and behave rudely although I shouldn't have. When it's over I often deeply regret my actions although I never apologise. Instead, tears fill both my eyes and I feel like a thousand knives stabbing through my chest.

I am going to miss the meals you prepared and the motherly nag you gave me.

I am sorry, truly.

Mum-ne-sia

I've been very, very forgetful lately. First, I misplaced my mobile phone. I had to use another phone to call my own mobile numbers to locate it. It was on my bed but I swear it wasn't there when I flipped through the pillows. Next, I couldn't remember one of my emails and twitter account passwords. Then I tried to log into photobucket but ended up staring blankly at the screen because I can't recall the username. Finally, I went to the atm machine today, slot in my bank card, select the preferred language and then I realised.... I don't remember my pin numbers!

Thinking that I might be suffering from early Alzheimer, I went online to search for clues when I came across an article in Telegraph U.K that says forgetfulness postpartum is quite common among new mothers. It's a way for the body to recover from childbirth pains and rigours; coupled with sleepless nights and the stress of taking care of newborn making forgetfulness inevitable. In fact, it's a new medical condition recognised by neuroscientists 2 years ago, called Mumnesia.

Have you heard of a woman who lived in La-La Land?

Once upon a time, there lived a woman in her La-La Land. After a daughter, a divorce and years later, she remarried and had a son with the new husband. Her husband wanted a daughter so she was pregnant again for the third time but with a baby boy instead of a girl. Since she was almost 40 when she gave birth to her third child, she had no plan of having a fourth one anymore.

The ex-husband, on the other hand, remarried a much younger wife and had a daughter. Therefore, he asked for their daughter's used clothes for the new baby girl since she won't be having anymore babies herself. The woman gave them a big bag full of old, used baby girls clothes. Some were torn, some were badly stretched, mostly with faded colours. The woman's daughter who regularly spent time with her daddy and the stepmom said, "These are all my old clothes. My mommy kept the nicer ones. She said she doesn't want to give it to you."

Moral of the story: Teach your child to lie well if you decided to be such a petty biatch in front of him/her. Before you do that, be aware that you're also teaching your child to be petty and selfish.

By the way, this is also a story of a woman who never skips church every Sunday and sent her child to Christians school since young. Maybe the ex-husband should have asked for the used clothes on Sunday instead of other days, huh? Lmao!

Aaahhhhh.... airhead biatches stories never fail to make me laugh.

Who's the World's Greatest Mom?

..... I am, says him.

He bought me an expensive purse from his business trip to Singapore recently but what's more touching is a luggage tag that he hung on the paper bag which says 'World's Greatest Mom'. Sweet, huh? Well, that's Dear Hubby and things he does that'll definitely make my day. After spending a rather short weekend here, Dear Hubby went back to Jakarta for work again. My life is then back to the usual. No more parties, no more going places, no more meeting people. A quiet life, just me and baby.

Slimming program, the urut lady vs. advance-looking machines

I signed up for a slimming program which cost me (or rather Dear Hubby since I'm going get him to reimburse me. hehe!) a bomb. They hooked me up to various advance-looking machines for 45 minutes, followed by steam bath, salt scrub and a warm blanket wrap. Was it really as effective as they claimed? Not really. I'm into the 5th session and sadly, there's not much reduction to be seen.

Then I hired an urut lady (a female masseur who provides postnatal massage services) who gives extremely painful massages that many have claimed to lose unwanted pounds as fast as after the first session itself. Does it work? Absolutely. I lost half a kg and my body curves are well defined after my first two-hour session with her. And it merely cost me RM120 (equivalent to about US$37) per session. She even has buy-6-free-1 ongoing promotion and I don't have to pay in advance but only after each session with her. Talking about getting my money worth.

To read more on prenatal and postnatal massages, click here.

Crossroads puzzle

Crappy crap. I hate to be at a crossroads in life. I hate to decide on something that will affect the lives of others, especially my loved ones.

A few days ago, Dear Hubby gave me the green light to apply for an opening in one of the MNCs in K.L. Since then, I am at the verge of deciding whether I should be a full time mother or to return to the workforce. No doubt I love cutie pies but to take care of them full time? I don't know. Firstly, I can't stand crying babies, especially the super cranky ones. And my daughter happens to fall into that category, the super cranky baby. Moreover, baby tricks don't work on her when she's crying and screaming away. Secondly, I need to maintain the value of my job experiences that might be lost over time if not used. To return to the workforce also means to live apart from Dear Hubby who'll be in Jakarta for another year or two. Baby will have to grow up with only mommy by her side and Dear Hubby, on the other hand, will very much miss his daughter's first few years of rapid development. Sad.

Therefore, which is better?

To stay home, raise my baby full time and feel like some useless hag in years to come... or to work, maintain my value in the workforce and keep repeating to myself that I'm a bad, bad mother?

Love redefined

I love Brown Brother's Moscato.
I love my Gin with soda and a slice of lemon.
I love German beers.
I enjoy grapes with Brie.
I love colourful cupcakes.
I (still) love Dunhill Buttons.
I love Jay Chao's songs.
I love Mariah Carey, Madonna and Suede's music.
I love R&B remix.
I love to club.
I love to sexy dance.
I love to play pool.
I have hots for guys like Johnny Depp.
I love powerful women like Oprah Winfrey.
I love the life of Victoria Beckham.
I love Chanel Chance.
I love pinks.
I love to be size 8 (again).
I love Xixili.
I love nicely manicured nails.
I love to have perky breasts once again.
I love Fendi, Gucci and Tod's.
I love tulips.
I love Audi TT.
I love to shop alone.
I love computer games.
I love Sony Ericsson's mobile phones.
I love Dorothy Perkins.
I love Bangkok.
I love to watch cartoons.
I love to blog.
I love a cup of hot coffee on rainy days.
I love to unwind with a glass of Hoegaarden.
I love Dear Hubby's lame jokes.
I love hanging out with Dear Hubby at the place we first met.
I'm begining to love my new life.
..... .....
 .... ....
  ... ...
   .. ..
    . .
     .
and the top love of my many loves.....

I love Dear Hubby and my baby.

My baby didn't come with an instruction manual

Meagan is 3 weeks and 3 days old today. After weeks of what it seems like crying and screaming without apparent rhyme or reason, I finally understood her 'language'.

Tricks used on babies don't work on her. She cries before she pees so we could immediately change her nappy. Also, time taken to change her soiled nappy should not be more than 3 minutes. She screams (not cries) when she wants her milk and she wants it fast. She loves bathing but dislikes people cleaning her cute lil' body with wet towel. She hates people touching her head and she wants to people to talk to her while feeding.

Worst of all, she loathes my bedroom. She would keep on crying until she is brought out of my bedroom. No, I'm not imagining all these in a barely one month old baby. I have tried bringing her to sleep in my bedroom countless times but she would keep on crying until I bring her out again.... and then the crying stops. I tried adjusting the air-cond temperature, the lightings, play some soothing music, putting on her blanket and removing it but to no avail. She just hates my bedroom. Full stop.

The story of a peanut brain mother

Questions

1) Why would an ex-wife calls her ex-husband just to ask whether the pub's kitchen is still open? Isn't it easier to just ask straight to the point for his location?

2) Which mother (in her right mind) would send her daughter who is still clad in her sleeveless ballet outfit to a pub full of cigarrettes smokes and world cup fans screaming and shouting like mad people especially when she knows (or maybe she doesn't, given her peanut brain) that the daughter has the tendency of developing flu-like symptoms when she gets too cold in an air-conditioned area?

This time I am neither upset nor mad. I feel for the poor lil' girl who has that peanut brain bitch as a mother.

x

It was Saturday night. There were two important events that night: the daughter's ballet concert at 7.30 and a big match between Argentina and Germany at 10. We left right after the daughter's ballet performance to the local neighbourhood pub where Dear Hubby and I first met. The pub was so crowded.... full of fans of either Argentina or Germany. We wouldn't have a place to sit if it wasn't for one of Dear Hubby's friend who was there much earlier. Half an hour into the match, the daughter walked in, still clad in her ballet attire. Poor thing, she was sitting on the bar stool shivering away with a running nose while inhaling heavy second hand cigarrettes smoke for almost an hour. Besides not understanding the football game that was going on, she was asking the daddy to 'calm down' when Dear Hubby cheered for his favourite team Germany when they scored against Argentina.

So where was the mother of this poor lil' girl then?
She was with her husband and their son, nicely having supper at a nearby cafe.

Did she asks the daughter to have a bite before sending her over to the pub?
Nope.

Did she thinks twice before she decided to send a child over to a smoke-filled pub or whether the child will be too cold in her ballet attire?
Nope.

Does she has a peanut brain?
Definitely.

Did she acts like an insecure bitch who uses her daughter to both their benefits because she knows Dear Hubby would do anything for his little one?
All the time!

End of rant.