Cool: Socially adept; great; fine; excellent.
Holy: Dedicated & devoted to the service of God, the church, or religion.
Can anyone tell me if these two words are antonyms? Can't a person be both or one has to be only one of these, in so saying, does it mean that these two are two opposite extremes?
I was having a conversation with friends the other day. At one point, we were talking about the Tsunami and other natural disasters. At the end of that topic, a friend said, "Life is so short." In a way, she's saying, "We'll never know what might happen to us tomorrow," to which she replied, "That's why we must enjoy life." I, of course being the smart-ass, said in return, "NOOO... That's why we must go to church..."
Now, imagine you were there with us. How would you react to that? Or, what would you think of me?
Coz the friends that were there all stopped what they doing and looked at me. No, STARED at me. And when they finally said something, it was, "Why'd you have to cut off the steam?" and "YOu sound like my mother." Ha ha.
I wouldn't classify myself as being holy. By 'holy' I mean, according society's definition of holy, or pious. I am a Christian. I try to practice my belief the best way I know how. And although I fail it most of the time, it doesn't make me quit trying to be a good Christian. But the world we live in makes it harder and harder to even belief in God, what more to say, to practice that belief. People wants to be seen as COOL. And it's not COOL to be religious, or to even bring it up in conversations. It's not cool to go to church. It's not cool to pray. It's not cool to be holy.
Sometimes, it (talking about religion or God) even feels like a taboo. It almost feels like you have to think twice before bringing it up in conversations, like you have to watch it if you're going to say anything God-related. Yes, we have different beliefs. But it doesn't mean that you stop talking about it altogether. Why can't we just talk about God like we talk about other people. How come it's easier for us to talk about other people's flaws (mengumpat lah bah) than to talk about God, when God is supposed to be the center of our lives? Our very being exist because of Him... Why is it a shameful thing to be talking about Him?
Religion being a sensitive issue is one thing. But amongst Christian friends, why does it have to be? From my observation, these friends are usually people who hadn't been to church for a very long time. For them, religion and God had been like a long-forgotten subject they refused to ever talk about again. Why? My guess is, GUILT. There's that huge void filled by guilt, building a wall in between them and their faith.
Well friends, newsflash: everybody has guilts. I have guilt. I feel guilty all the time. But it doesn't mean that I make it worse by shutting God out completely. When I talk about God or my belief, it doesn't mean that I'm pious. I hope to be, but truth is, none of us will be pure enough, at least not in this world. I like to think that there will always be hope for me, for all of us, no matter how guilty...
I love Jesus. Jesus is my best friend, my backbone, my foundation, my ears, my shoulders... There I said it. It's so cool to be Holy!
Here's something from poet Carol S. Wimmer, something I find solace in =)
When I say..."I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are all too visible,
But God believes I'm worth it.
When I say..."I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain
I have my share of heartaches
Which is why I speak His name.
When I say..."I am a Christian"
I do not wish to judge.
I have no authority.
I only know I'm loved.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
The Good Mother
We all want to be good at something. It makes our life worth living. It gives us a sense of purpose, a sense of meaning...
I've always known what I want to be good at. I've always wanted to be a good friend, so I try to be there for my friends often, I try to be fun, I try to be cool. I've always wanted to be a good student (well, at least in the first few years of Primary education), so I try to score, I try to respond to my teachers the way smart students do, I try to be obedient. I've always wanted to be a good singer too. So I try to, well, sing well. I've always wanted to be a good writer. So I try to figure out what matters most in my writing, and the answer turned out to be honesty.
Not that I planned ahead on becoming a mother, but I've always known that I would someday, someday, would love to have children, and I knew even back then, that I want to make a good mother, when I finally become one... And now I am a mother. It's only been 7 months since I became one, and already I feel so inadequate. My son, Micah, had fallen sick more than twice now. He is constantly bloated. He fell off the bed and chair numerous times and there was one time the fall was so had his lip bled. I still can't get anything ready on time, like his baths, his diaper changes. My temper has never been shorter. My desire to smoke is just constantly tagging. My self-centredness of wanting to let go and relax or party sometimes, exists. I just feel so unworthy of this... Like I'm not cut-out for motherhood, for Micah... Does that make me a bad mother?
What does 'a GOOD mother' even mean? More importantly, does it even exist? Who first coined the word 'good' or 'bad' to the title 'mother'? Who or what initially put such a definitive meaning to something so subjective? What does one mean when he or she says, "She's a bad/good mother,"?
Honestly, it worries me what others think about my mothering skills, especially other fellow mothers. Everytime I'm out there with my baby, I feel so judged, hence the constant self-judgment habit; does my baby look fine? Is he neat enough? Are there traces of bread crumbs on his face that I forgot to wipe out? Does his shirt match his pants? Is he behaving like a good kid (owh, whatever THAT means. Good kid is an oxymoron)? Oh no, he's crying too loud! They must think I'm a bad mother!
But above all that assumed criticism, I want to be a god mother because of my son... I want to be a good mother because I want him to be safe all the time from all harm, seen and unseen... I want to be a good mother because I want him to grow up in the right and fun environment... I want to be a good mother because he seems like a great kid (although he's still a 7-moth-old infant) and I want him to have that greatness in every aspect because he deserves it... I want to be a good mother because I want him to be alive, not only physically but also spiritually, emotionally... I want to be a good mother because, I LOVE HIM...
But like the other things that I want to be good at, I can only try... I am but human... I make mistakes, I fail, but I can also succeed... And for that, I try to be the good mother I've always wanted to be...
I've always known what I want to be good at. I've always wanted to be a good friend, so I try to be there for my friends often, I try to be fun, I try to be cool. I've always wanted to be a good student (well, at least in the first few years of Primary education), so I try to score, I try to respond to my teachers the way smart students do, I try to be obedient. I've always wanted to be a good singer too. So I try to, well, sing well. I've always wanted to be a good writer. So I try to figure out what matters most in my writing, and the answer turned out to be honesty.
Not that I planned ahead on becoming a mother, but I've always known that I would someday, someday, would love to have children, and I knew even back then, that I want to make a good mother, when I finally become one... And now I am a mother. It's only been 7 months since I became one, and already I feel so inadequate. My son, Micah, had fallen sick more than twice now. He is constantly bloated. He fell off the bed and chair numerous times and there was one time the fall was so had his lip bled. I still can't get anything ready on time, like his baths, his diaper changes. My temper has never been shorter. My desire to smoke is just constantly tagging. My self-centredness of wanting to let go and relax or party sometimes, exists. I just feel so unworthy of this... Like I'm not cut-out for motherhood, for Micah... Does that make me a bad mother?
What does 'a GOOD mother' even mean? More importantly, does it even exist? Who first coined the word 'good' or 'bad' to the title 'mother'? Who or what initially put such a definitive meaning to something so subjective? What does one mean when he or she says, "She's a bad/good mother,"?
Honestly, it worries me what others think about my mothering skills, especially other fellow mothers. Everytime I'm out there with my baby, I feel so judged, hence the constant self-judgment habit; does my baby look fine? Is he neat enough? Are there traces of bread crumbs on his face that I forgot to wipe out? Does his shirt match his pants? Is he behaving like a good kid (owh, whatever THAT means. Good kid is an oxymoron)? Oh no, he's crying too loud! They must think I'm a bad mother!
But above all that assumed criticism, I want to be a god mother because of my son... I want to be a good mother because I want him to be safe all the time from all harm, seen and unseen... I want to be a good mother because I want him to grow up in the right and fun environment... I want to be a good mother because he seems like a great kid (although he's still a 7-moth-old infant) and I want him to have that greatness in every aspect because he deserves it... I want to be a good mother because I want him to be alive, not only physically but also spiritually, emotionally... I want to be a good mother because, I LOVE HIM...
But like the other things that I want to be good at, I can only try... I am but human... I make mistakes, I fail, but I can also succeed... And for that, I try to be the good mother I've always wanted to be...
Thursday, April 15, 2010
To Write Or Not To Write
The SPA exam last Saturday gave me something to blog about. Well, not really. This is just cause. Ha ha.
It was a 9am to 4.20pm exam, with a single one-hour break (1pm - 2pm), and for someone who last seated for a real exam was approximately 730 days ago (equivalent to 2 years. Using 'days' instead to describe it gives it more volume *grin*), that, is mind-blasting, in a not so good way. The one I anticipated for was the 2nd part, Mathematics. Not because I'm good in it, but because once that part is over, the rest of the ride would be 'kacang'. I ended up with 15 vacant multiple-choices rows on the answer sheet (which was later filled-in with the help of my intuition).
The main reason why I wanted to post this entry was because I'd really love to tell you guys about the details. But come to think of it, I'm not sure if we can do that, as the examiners took back all our question papers, which I assume is their way of hindering us from 'sharing' them with the rest of the world (or it could be that they're practicing environmentalism, recycling the papers and all). Ha.
Anyhow, roughly, the last part (before the self-assessment tests), was English Essay (the one before that was the Esei Bahasa Melayu, which I refuse to talk about because I laughed throughout the entire time I was penning down my BRILLIANT ideas), and there were 3 questions to choose one from. The first one was about social networking sites (go figure), while the 2nd one was about... Can't remember. Don't bother. Nothing interesting. And when I got to the 3rd one, I knew it was my niche (it was regarding UNITY). I was like, "Aha! This, I can talk a lot about!". But before I could even jot down my first word, I changed my mind so quickly, as this is an examination to join the government force, yet my thoughts and opinions don't really go in the same direction. So, there goes nothing.
All in all, it was a pretty good experience. My parents are hoping so bad that I'd pass it and go through all the levels of interview, and be a government servant. I nod and smile everytime they say so, but really I was hoping for something else.
Oh well, let's just wait and see what the results would be.
Cheers!
It was a 9am to 4.20pm exam, with a single one-hour break (1pm - 2pm), and for someone who last seated for a real exam was approximately 730 days ago (equivalent to 2 years. Using 'days' instead to describe it gives it more volume *grin*), that, is mind-blasting, in a not so good way. The one I anticipated for was the 2nd part, Mathematics. Not because I'm good in it, but because once that part is over, the rest of the ride would be 'kacang'. I ended up with 15 vacant multiple-choices rows on the answer sheet (which was later filled-in with the help of my intuition).
The main reason why I wanted to post this entry was because I'd really love to tell you guys about the details. But come to think of it, I'm not sure if we can do that, as the examiners took back all our question papers, which I assume is their way of hindering us from 'sharing' them with the rest of the world (or it could be that they're practicing environmentalism, recycling the papers and all). Ha.
Anyhow, roughly, the last part (before the self-assessment tests), was English Essay (the one before that was the Esei Bahasa Melayu, which I refuse to talk about because I laughed throughout the entire time I was penning down my BRILLIANT ideas), and there were 3 questions to choose one from. The first one was about social networking sites (go figure), while the 2nd one was about... Can't remember. Don't bother. Nothing interesting. And when I got to the 3rd one, I knew it was my niche (it was regarding UNITY). I was like, "Aha! This, I can talk a lot about!". But before I could even jot down my first word, I changed my mind so quickly, as this is an examination to join the government force, yet my thoughts and opinions don't really go in the same direction. So, there goes nothing.
All in all, it was a pretty good experience. My parents are hoping so bad that I'd pass it and go through all the levels of interview, and be a government servant. I nod and smile everytime they say so, but really I was hoping for something else.
Oh well, let's just wait and see what the results would be.
Cheers!
Saturday, March 13, 2010
It's My Birthday... AGAIN
For someone who had always give two pots about having her birthday celebrated, waking up to it feeling no distinction from every other day wore me down.Yes, it did. I remember being a student in UiTM, a member of a society called Catholic Students (CSS), for 3 whole years, staying with a bunch of fellow Borneans; birthdays were always celebrated. When possible, they're celebrated in a big way. Otherwise, it's just really foul-smelling liquid (a mash-up of onions, rotten egg, belacan, unwashed soaked stockings, etc.) usually, at 12.00am on the dot. HA HA.
Whatever it is, it is celebrated. The person is celebrated. People around you take the effort to make you feel different in a good way on your birthday, be it in a big or small way, just so that day doesn't feel like 'any other day.' And I've never really appreciated that until now... Now that I don't have that crew of people to do that to me anymore.
Even before that stage of life, my family and friends back at home would always managed to get around to at least have meals together. Our usual for birthdays and celebrations would be the Yu Kee Bak Kut Teh in Gaya Street (THE BEST).
So, for me, birthdays are a big deal. I believe that no one should ever be too old to celebrate it. That was why when I went to bed two nights ago, a yearning set in. I just wanted so bad to celebrate it. Woke up the next day, the yearning is still there.
Instead of letting that feeling ate me up, I put on a bright attitude, played OMC's How Bizarre on loud speaker and started dancing to it. I felt good. I thought to myself, "It's not how it is celebrated. It is how YOU celebrate yourself." So my believe shifted; it really is about the kind of attitude you bring into the day.
My mother-in-law got me a lovely purple comforter as a gift. My mother reloaded phone credit. I got a note from my husband (which was special coz he never writes to me *smiles*), I received calls from my brother, sisters (Sam was just sobbing on the phone, sad that it's my birthday yet she can't celebrate it with me. Sigh...), mother, and from my best friends. And more virtual wishes via Facebook.
But the most memorable moment of my birthday this year, was when my father, practically 'estranged', sent me a text message, saying;
"Mommy told me that it's your BIRTHDAY TODAY. I'm sorry I never give you any present, but my love and prayer goes to you, dear daughter."
And I immediately teared up... I wasn't sure if it was the frustration for feeling frustrated with Micah prior to that SMS, or the fact that I was kind of down for not being 'celebrated'. But I just cried and cried for a while. That was really something. That was everything. My father, who never wished me anything despite already having 24 birthdays, remembered, and wished me... Priceless.
Knowing the person my father is, it must have taken him a lot of courage and ego pushed aside for him to even wish me. So to me, this one is more than anything I could ever wish for. Bless you, Pa. =)
All in all, it's a typical yet meaningful birthday. It was no hu-ha, but I appreciate it just the way it was. Although really foul-smelling liquid (a mash-up of onions, rotten egg, belacan, unwashed soaked stockings, etc.) usually, at 12.00am on the dot, would have been nice. Ha ha.
Cheers everyone.
Whatever it is, it is celebrated. The person is celebrated. People around you take the effort to make you feel different in a good way on your birthday, be it in a big or small way, just so that day doesn't feel like 'any other day.' And I've never really appreciated that until now... Now that I don't have that crew of people to do that to me anymore.
Even before that stage of life, my family and friends back at home would always managed to get around to at least have meals together. Our usual for birthdays and celebrations would be the Yu Kee Bak Kut Teh in Gaya Street (THE BEST).
So, for me, birthdays are a big deal. I believe that no one should ever be too old to celebrate it. That was why when I went to bed two nights ago, a yearning set in. I just wanted so bad to celebrate it. Woke up the next day, the yearning is still there.
Instead of letting that feeling ate me up, I put on a bright attitude, played OMC's How Bizarre on loud speaker and started dancing to it. I felt good. I thought to myself, "It's not how it is celebrated. It is how YOU celebrate yourself." So my believe shifted; it really is about the kind of attitude you bring into the day.
My mother-in-law got me a lovely purple comforter as a gift. My mother reloaded phone credit. I got a note from my husband (which was special coz he never writes to me *smiles*), I received calls from my brother, sisters (Sam was just sobbing on the phone, sad that it's my birthday yet she can't celebrate it with me. Sigh...), mother, and from my best friends. And more virtual wishes via Facebook.
But the most memorable moment of my birthday this year, was when my father, practically 'estranged', sent me a text message, saying;
"Mommy told me that it's your BIRTHDAY TODAY. I'm sorry I never give you any present, but my love and prayer goes to you, dear daughter."
And I immediately teared up... I wasn't sure if it was the frustration for feeling frustrated with Micah prior to that SMS, or the fact that I was kind of down for not being 'celebrated'. But I just cried and cried for a while. That was really something. That was everything. My father, who never wished me anything despite already having 24 birthdays, remembered, and wished me... Priceless.
Knowing the person my father is, it must have taken him a lot of courage and ego pushed aside for him to even wish me. So to me, this one is more than anything I could ever wish for. Bless you, Pa. =)
All in all, it's a typical yet meaningful birthday. It was no hu-ha, but I appreciate it just the way it was. Although really foul-smelling liquid (a mash-up of onions, rotten egg, belacan, unwashed soaked stockings, etc.) usually, at 12.00am on the dot, would have been nice. Ha ha.
Cheers everyone.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Being Mother Amy
"So how's life as a mom?" I get asked a lot. "Oh, it's wonderful, life-changing, beautiful.." comes my reply. But we've heard that part already, right? Now here's the real deal... WARNING: For those of you who aspire to become a mother, do not read on. It may crush your dreams. Ha ha.
It's time-consuming. My life revolves around my baby, Micah, literally. I can't bathe, eat, go online, sleep, or do anything for that matter, on my own accord. I had to follow Micah's time. He had to be fed first, he had to be bathed first, he had to doze off (with me help obviously) first. Thank God for my wonderful mom and dad in-law who would voluntarily look after him when I need to eat. They'd ask, "Sudah makan kah? Pigi makan dulu lah, mari saya jaga dia skejap." Hihi. Nice folks. Love them to bits.
Coming to five months old, his interest had expanded beyond his mom's breasts and arms, so he would deliberately extend his hands to touch stuffs, reach out to things, roll over, and when he can't, he would call out for assistance from anybody who can hear him. Of course, that would most of the time be me. His dad helps entertain his attention-seeking habit every now and then, but I had to do most of the survival life-skills tasks like feeding and bathing and washing after he poops.
Out of this daily time-consuming and 100%-attention-required tasks, I still do have a life. Oh yes, I still get to watch TV, and blog (although this one takes almost four hours if not more, due to having to stop in the middle of sentences to yell out, "Micah! The books will fall on you and that's gonna hurt!" or "Micah! That's glass!" or "Micah! You'll fall and hurt yourself!" All of these later made me realize that he's only FIVE MONTHS OLD and understands NONE of what I just said, which means that I had to get up from my seat and go pick him up. Upon picking him up, I tried to finish my sentences while carrying him on my lap, but he starts touching this and that, pulling wires and banging on the keypad, so I had to stop again and keep him away from things. Hold on, I have to go feed him, and maybe, just maybe, I can continue my post in between feeding him and giving him a bath. I will then put him to sleep so I can contitnue writing in peace). *smiles*
SIX HOURS LATER...
Where was I again? Oh yeah, I still get to watch TV, and blog. I read while feeding him because that is one of the activities that require very little movement. Once I've put him to sleep, I'd rush to do the laundry, take out the garbage, and bathe myself. Then again, it depends on how long he sleeps, which varies from 5 minutes to two hours.
I still get to hang out at music cafes with my husband... and Micah. It's a pretty weird sight to see a couple sipping beer with a stroller beside the table, but ya we do that. We still get to go to barbeques and such and hang out at friends' places, with Micah tagging along. We still have fun sometimes, but there are days that it gets hard, like when he refuses to be put down wanting to be held ALL the time, or when he's sleepy which makes him cranky but he just wouldn't doze off.
I also need to watch what I drink due to breastfeeding. But that dilemma would pretty soon be over once he learns that lacthing on to mommy's breasts is not the most valuable thing in the world. Ha ha.
Honestly, I get annoyed by him sometimes, especially when he won't stop crying and I have not the slightest idea of what he wants. My tone of voice would subconsciously turn higher when asking him to shush it. But then I would come to my senses that he's only a baby and that he's crying because he's probably in a more uncomfortable state than I am, and pray my mantra, "Lord, Love, Strength, and Patience NOW." And it would cool me down.
When I whine about being exhausting and wanting my privacy back to my aunts and fellow mommy friends, they can only say, "Wait till he starts to walk." *gulps*
But then again, it got me thinking, "Walking? Walking..." And then it would be running, then starting school, graduating, smoking, having a girlfriend, having sex, working, getting married... *closes eyes and stops imagining*
I find myself tearing up... I realize that he's only going to be a baby for a very short time. The next thing you know, he's all grown up and thinks that your opinion does't matter and thinks that he can take care of himself... There will come a day when I can't just hold him and cuddle him like I can now, when he starts to think that getting a kiss from mommy is not cool and embarassing... Oh, the terror...
It is at times like these that I appreciate him for who and what he is. He might take up all my time, energy and attention, and that might piss me off sometimes. But on days that I'm not annoyed and less selfish, I feel nothing but love for him and all I want to do is give him all the attention he wants and needs. I just want to hold him day to night and watch him smile, laugh, cry and giggle. I love to hear him coo, although one day I bet I'd find myself asking him not to talk so much. But for now, he can coo all he wants because I love to hear it.
So there you have it, the detailed answer of what being a mom is like. It's not all rainbows and butterflies, as it does get hard sometimes. But none of the hard times are worth giving up for the beauty of having a baby. That, I can assure you.
Gotta go now, for he awakes!
Cheers!
It's time-consuming. My life revolves around my baby, Micah, literally. I can't bathe, eat, go online, sleep, or do anything for that matter, on my own accord. I had to follow Micah's time. He had to be fed first, he had to be bathed first, he had to doze off (with me help obviously) first. Thank God for my wonderful mom and dad in-law who would voluntarily look after him when I need to eat. They'd ask, "Sudah makan kah? Pigi makan dulu lah, mari saya jaga dia skejap." Hihi. Nice folks. Love them to bits.
Coming to five months old, his interest had expanded beyond his mom's breasts and arms, so he would deliberately extend his hands to touch stuffs, reach out to things, roll over, and when he can't, he would call out for assistance from anybody who can hear him. Of course, that would most of the time be me. His dad helps entertain his attention-seeking habit every now and then, but I had to do most of the survival life-skills tasks like feeding and bathing and washing after he poops.
Out of this daily time-consuming and 100%-attention-required tasks, I still do have a life. Oh yes, I still get to watch TV, and blog (although this one takes almost four hours if not more, due to having to stop in the middle of sentences to yell out, "Micah! The books will fall on you and that's gonna hurt!" or "Micah! That's glass!" or "Micah! You'll fall and hurt yourself!" All of these later made me realize that he's only FIVE MONTHS OLD and understands NONE of what I just said, which means that I had to get up from my seat and go pick him up. Upon picking him up, I tried to finish my sentences while carrying him on my lap, but he starts touching this and that, pulling wires and banging on the keypad, so I had to stop again and keep him away from things. Hold on, I have to go feed him, and maybe, just maybe, I can continue my post in between feeding him and giving him a bath. I will then put him to sleep so I can contitnue writing in peace). *smiles*
SIX HOURS LATER...
Where was I again? Oh yeah, I still get to watch TV, and blog. I read while feeding him because that is one of the activities that require very little movement. Once I've put him to sleep, I'd rush to do the laundry, take out the garbage, and bathe myself. Then again, it depends on how long he sleeps, which varies from 5 minutes to two hours.
I still get to hang out at music cafes with my husband... and Micah. It's a pretty weird sight to see a couple sipping beer with a stroller beside the table, but ya we do that. We still get to go to barbeques and such and hang out at friends' places, with Micah tagging along. We still have fun sometimes, but there are days that it gets hard, like when he refuses to be put down wanting to be held ALL the time, or when he's sleepy which makes him cranky but he just wouldn't doze off.
I also need to watch what I drink due to breastfeeding. But that dilemma would pretty soon be over once he learns that lacthing on to mommy's breasts is not the most valuable thing in the world. Ha ha.
Honestly, I get annoyed by him sometimes, especially when he won't stop crying and I have not the slightest idea of what he wants. My tone of voice would subconsciously turn higher when asking him to shush it. But then I would come to my senses that he's only a baby and that he's crying because he's probably in a more uncomfortable state than I am, and pray my mantra, "Lord, Love, Strength, and Patience NOW." And it would cool me down.
When I whine about being exhausting and wanting my privacy back to my aunts and fellow mommy friends, they can only say, "Wait till he starts to walk." *gulps*
But then again, it got me thinking, "Walking? Walking..." And then it would be running, then starting school, graduating, smoking, having a girlfriend, having sex, working, getting married... *closes eyes and stops imagining*
I find myself tearing up... I realize that he's only going to be a baby for a very short time. The next thing you know, he's all grown up and thinks that your opinion does't matter and thinks that he can take care of himself... There will come a day when I can't just hold him and cuddle him like I can now, when he starts to think that getting a kiss from mommy is not cool and embarassing... Oh, the terror...
It is at times like these that I appreciate him for who and what he is. He might take up all my time, energy and attention, and that might piss me off sometimes. But on days that I'm not annoyed and less selfish, I feel nothing but love for him and all I want to do is give him all the attention he wants and needs. I just want to hold him day to night and watch him smile, laugh, cry and giggle. I love to hear him coo, although one day I bet I'd find myself asking him not to talk so much. But for now, he can coo all he wants because I love to hear it.
So there you have it, the detailed answer of what being a mom is like. It's not all rainbows and butterflies, as it does get hard sometimes. But none of the hard times are worth giving up for the beauty of having a baby. That, I can assure you.
Gotta go now, for he awakes!
Cheers!
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
If You've Been Reading ME... - An Update
After what seemed like forever of not 'properly' updating my blog, I guess I owe that to you, my readers. Before that, the reasons why I hadn't been able to do so was;
1) I didn't have the necessary device and proper Internet connection to do so.
2) This excuse of course can be solved by going to the nearby Cybercafes, BUT, I didn't have the time, if not convenience, to do that.
3) Well, even if the first two excuses are unreasonable, I just couldn't write as well as I did. Extra info: Expectant mothers' brain fats get sucked somewhere along the pregnancy, which is why it is wise for mothers-to-be to consume as much Omega-3 supplements as they can. As well as after the birth. I didn't take that info seriously, until I realized I forgot the English word for 'garpu' and totally misarranged my IC number. Bottomline, I can't write as well anymore due to the fact that my brain shrunk and I dropped quite a number of vocabularies along the way.
So, if you're reading this yet had not the slightest idea of what am I talking about, in case you had no interest in knowing that Amy got knocked up (sure glad the commotion is over) and her son is now coming to three months old, OR, has no idea who Amy is, keep reading. I'll fill you in *smiles*.
I'm Amy Dangin. I'm 24 this year, married and a mother of an adorable 3-month-old boy, Micah. I've had this blog since March last year, and another four-year-old blog via Friendster. I wrote mostly about my personal thoughts and opinion, on life, love, politics, spirituality, as well as rant about my daily life back then. I loved it. I loved putting my thoughts and feelings into words. I would say I'm in my element whenever I be in my blog. This blog is ME. It would be a shame if I let other things and priorities get in the way of it and give up on it completely.
If you've been reading my past posts, you'd probably have laughed, cried, criticized, argued, disagreed, agreed, adviced, and so on. If you've been reading me, you would know that I can and I would write even about the smallest of things if only I feel like it. You would know that I don't fancy the ruling party of this country that much. You would know that I don't agree to the racial classification of this country. You would know that I've loved and been love in return. You would know that I had my fair share of relationships. You would know that I love my mother with all my heart and want nothing but the best for her, yet argue with her countless of times. You would know that one of my biggest concerns is my faith in God and His in me. You would know that I'm stubborn. If you've been reading me, you would know that THIS, HERE, TODAY, was not WHAT, WHERE, nor WHEN I wanted to be... *smiles*
All I was looking for was a short-term experience. But I fell in love (if you've been reading me, you would know that LOVE is an issue for me, and admitting to feeling it was and still is unlikely of me), and I acted on it, with an unexpected result. Yes, my baby was unplanned. But when Joshua and I found out that we're pregnant, we welcomed the news with smiles that meant an anxious joy. I'd lie if I say that we were all rainbows and sunshine. There was fear of how our parents would respond, as well as fear of how our future was now altered not so much to our liking.
It was a lot of bumps from then on. I questioned his liability as a husband and a father many times, mostly due to my hormonal condition. He patiently stood by me and did his best to make me happy and give us what we need. My family that I had underrated was a big supporter afterall. His parents and mine were still the loving people whom we knew them to be.
A year, many tears and laughters alike, dreams, hopes, expectations and many fears later, here we are. Here I am. Still a my mother's daughter, now a mother myself, a wife, still with same hopes and dreams - maybe slightly altered - and still writing... *smiles*
1) I didn't have the necessary device and proper Internet connection to do so.
2) This excuse of course can be solved by going to the nearby Cybercafes, BUT, I didn't have the time, if not convenience, to do that.
3) Well, even if the first two excuses are unreasonable, I just couldn't write as well as I did. Extra info: Expectant mothers' brain fats get sucked somewhere along the pregnancy, which is why it is wise for mothers-to-be to consume as much Omega-3 supplements as they can. As well as after the birth. I didn't take that info seriously, until I realized I forgot the English word for 'garpu' and totally misarranged my IC number. Bottomline, I can't write as well anymore due to the fact that my brain shrunk and I dropped quite a number of vocabularies along the way.
So, if you're reading this yet had not the slightest idea of what am I talking about, in case you had no interest in knowing that Amy got knocked up (sure glad the commotion is over) and her son is now coming to three months old, OR, has no idea who Amy is, keep reading. I'll fill you in *smiles*.
I'm Amy Dangin. I'm 24 this year, married and a mother of an adorable 3-month-old boy, Micah. I've had this blog since March last year, and another four-year-old blog via Friendster. I wrote mostly about my personal thoughts and opinion, on life, love, politics, spirituality, as well as rant about my daily life back then. I loved it. I loved putting my thoughts and feelings into words. I would say I'm in my element whenever I be in my blog. This blog is ME. It would be a shame if I let other things and priorities get in the way of it and give up on it completely.
If you've been reading my past posts, you'd probably have laughed, cried, criticized, argued, disagreed, agreed, adviced, and so on. If you've been reading me, you would know that I can and I would write even about the smallest of things if only I feel like it. You would know that I don't fancy the ruling party of this country that much. You would know that I don't agree to the racial classification of this country. You would know that I've loved and been love in return. You would know that I had my fair share of relationships. You would know that I love my mother with all my heart and want nothing but the best for her, yet argue with her countless of times. You would know that one of my biggest concerns is my faith in God and His in me. You would know that I'm stubborn. If you've been reading me, you would know that THIS, HERE, TODAY, was not WHAT, WHERE, nor WHEN I wanted to be... *smiles*
All I was looking for was a short-term experience. But I fell in love (if you've been reading me, you would know that LOVE is an issue for me, and admitting to feeling it was and still is unlikely of me), and I acted on it, with an unexpected result. Yes, my baby was unplanned. But when Joshua and I found out that we're pregnant, we welcomed the news with smiles that meant an anxious joy. I'd lie if I say that we were all rainbows and sunshine. There was fear of how our parents would respond, as well as fear of how our future was now altered not so much to our liking.
It was a lot of bumps from then on. I questioned his liability as a husband and a father many times, mostly due to my hormonal condition. He patiently stood by me and did his best to make me happy and give us what we need. My family that I had underrated was a big supporter afterall. His parents and mine were still the loving people whom we knew them to be.
A year, many tears and laughters alike, dreams, hopes, expectations and many fears later, here we are. Here I am. Still a my mother's daughter, now a mother myself, a wife, still with same hopes and dreams - maybe slightly altered - and still writing... *smiles*
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Me.
Friend. Daughter. Big sister. Little sister. Lover. Fling. Ex-girlfriend. Ex-friend. Mentor. Student. Journalist. Writer. Stranger. Enemy. Companion. Acquaintance. And now.. a MOTHER... *smiles*
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