Ayah selamat menjalani pembedahan

Alhamdulillah..my dearest ayah dah selamat menjalani pembedahan. Semoga ayah dapat berjalan tanpa rasa sakit lagi...Miss u so much ayah..

Ayah will be warded tomorrow

My dearest Ayah will be warded tomorrow at HPRZ(II) in KB. My loving Ayah will go through knee operation on 29/10 (Thursday). When all my siblings are heading home to be next to our dearest Ayah, and here I am in front of the computer thousands of miles away.

All my loved ones had already fell asleep, comfortably tucked under the blanket in this cold nite. My eyes are still wide open. Don't know what to do. Don't know what to think. Don't know what to write. I've been staring absent-mindedly at my own blog for quite some times.

Truthfully, I'm crying right now. I called my dearest Umi this morning. Don't know why I don't have the strength to talk to my wonderful Ayah. When Umi said Ayah is in the bathroom, I feel quite relief that I have a reason not to talk to my loving Ayah and just sent my 'salam' through my strong Umi.

I'm scare really....I'm scare if I cried when I heard my dearest Ayah voice at the other end. I'm scare if I don't have the right words to say to my superb Ayah. I'm scare if my caring Ayah will only hear his daughter sobbing. Above all, she scares if she don't have enough strength to say, 'Ida sayang Ayah..'

Just a mom..

JUST A MOM?


A woman, renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk 's office,
was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation.

She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.

'What I mean is, ' explained the recorder,
'do you have a job or are you just a ?'

'Of course I have a job,' snapped the woman.

'I'm a Mom.'

'We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation,

'housewife' covers it,'
Said the recorder emphatically.


I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself

in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall.
The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised,
efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like,
'Official Interrogator' or 'Town Registrar.'

'What is your occupation?' she probed.

What made me say it? I do not know.
The words simply popped out.
'I'm a Research Associate in the field of
Child Development and Human Relations.'

The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and
looked up as though she had not! heard r ight.

I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words.
Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written,
in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.

'Might I ask,' said the clerk with new interest,
'just what you do in your field?'

Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice,
I heard myself reply,
'I have a continuing program of research,
(which mother doesn't)
In the laboratory and in the field,
(normally I would have said indoors and out).
I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family)
and already have four credits (all daughters).
Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities,
(any mother care to disagree?)
and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it).
But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers

and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.'

There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she
completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.

As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career,
I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3.
Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model,
(a 6 month old baby) in the child development program,
testing out a new vocal pattern.
I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy!
And I had gone on the official records as someone more

distinguished and indispensable to mankind than 'just another Mom.'

Motherhood!

What a glorious career!
Especially when there's a title on the door.


Does this make grandmothers
'Senior R esearch associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations'
And great grandmothers
'Executive Senior Research Associates?'
I think so!!!
I also think it makes Aunts

' Associate Research Assistants.'



Please send this to another Mom,
Grandmother,
Aunt,

And other friends you know.

May your troubles be less,

Your blessing be more,

And nothing but happiness come through your door!

Naughty pupils make good teachers

Rasa malas nak menulis tapi nak jugak update blog. Quite an interesting article, enjoy reading!

Naughty pupils make good teachers

NAVEL GAZER
By ALEXANDRA WONG

As ironic as it may sound, it’s usually the naughtiest students who make the best teachers later in life.

It took several rounds of driving in circles before I pulled reluctantly to the roadside. “I think I’m going to ask for directions,” I announced gruffly.

Other than a wide-eyed stare, my passengers didn’t look too surprised. After all, it was my maiden attempt at driving to Teluk Intan (TI for short). We had driven all the way from Ipoh to eat the town’s most famous culinary export — Liew Kee’s chee cheong fun.

After tasting it for the first time in March, I convinced my parents and BFF (best friend forever) Chang into joining me on a road trip. The plan was to drive two hours to TI, tuck into some freshly-made chee cheong fun, ta pau (take away) a few packets and return to Ipoh before nightfall. But you know what they say about the best-laid plans . . .

After getting through miles of highway, oil palm plantations, and bucolic kampung, I was well and truly lost. I was about to alight and pounce on a tudung-clad makcik at a roadside warung, when a sudden realisation hit me.

“Hey, doesn’t Sharmila teach here?”

Sharmila was our school’s most notorious tomboy. The kind who’d put a frog in your pocket, who’d tease you till she made you cry, and who also had legions of admirers. As a cosmic joke, the naughtiest girl in class had ended up as a teacher in this particular neck of woods.

Chang was already whipping out her phone. “What? You’re in Ipoh?”

I grabbed her phone and barked: “Are you going to be around tomorrow . . . you are? You’d better make yourself free for breakfast or I’ll march right up to your gate!” I threatened. “Do you know how long it has been since we last saw each other?”

“Easy Bunny, getting upset will age you faster. I’m still the same mah — short, cheeky and getting a bit round these days,” said Sharmila, dissolving into that oh-so-familiar cackle.

Sharmila, Sharmila.

She always knew how to get the last word in, even when she turned the joke on herself — one of her most infuriating but also endearing qualities. As I turned the car around as per her instructions, I smiled at the memories of those halcyon days; when we munched on endless slices of keropok lekor in the canteen, plied our (blushing) male biology teacher with questions about the reproductive system, and sat cross-legged on the corridor after history class, discussing how to make the world a true ZOPFAN — Zone of Peace, Freedom and Neutrality — a cool concept we embraced fully with our idealistic young hearts.

“Hello girls!”

I lifted my head from my glass of iced coffee and came face to face with a pair of twinkling brown eyes. Sharmila was standing next to another girl who looked vaguely familiar.

“Girls, this is Jeyanthi, a junior from our school. Jeyanthi, this is Chang,” Sharmila said, by way of introduction. “Chang is very adventurous. She flew to Britain on her own and worked there for five years! And this is Bunny, who’s less adventurous, though no less dangerous. She’s a writer, so anything you say can and will be used in an article.”

I gaped stupidly at Sharmila, who responded by batting her eyelashes. “You horrid woman,” I grumbled. “I still can’t believe that the naughtiest girl in school is a teacher!”

“I know!” she agreed heartily. “Everybody who finds out always have the same reaction. When Janet found out on FaceBook that I was a teacher, she wrote on my wall, ‘HAHAHAHAHAHAH’.”

We roared with unlady-like laughter, drawing curious stares from the next table. Years must have raced past since we girls last saw one another. Some of us had gotten married, given birth, carved niches and yet, when we got together, walls dissolved and the years melted away. We were schoolchildren all over again.

“So how does the naughtiest girl in school find teaching?” I asked curiously.

“I love my job,” she answered simply. “In a way, I think having been naughty once helps me to be a more effective teacher.”

I arched my eyebrows. “Oh? How so?”

“Well, I can communicate better with them, because I understand the underlying cause for their mischief.”

“So, O Wise One, with years of experience under your belt, can you tell me what makes a child naughty?” I teased with a wink.

“Because he or she doesn’t get enough attention at home. A child knows that if he is naughty, then he will get the attention he craves.”

Her serious response took me by surprise. Clearly, her work meant a lot to her. “I’ve always wondered,” I proceeded hesitantly, “is there really a wide spectrum of behaviour, as in the first compared to the last class? I mean, are the children who end up in the last class typically the naughtiest as well?”

“You know that Singapore movie, I Not Stupid? That’s exactly the situation in school. The children in the last classes are not stupid; they have been told so many times that they are hopeless, they begin to believe they are. When you teach, especially the last class of a school, it’s not really about teaching per se, but about instilling a sense of self-worth into them.”

“The last classes often get abandoned, even by the teachers. Many of them can’t even read or write simple passages when they reach Standard Six. Do you know what that means? It means they haven’t learnt anything at all in the six years! When you are told too many times you are worth nothing or you are not good enough to do something – what do you do? You give up.”

“Teaching requires a lot of heart and soul,” Sharmila stressed. “The problem with school is that you are dealing with such a big number, so you can’t give attention to all.”

“Can one teacher really make a difference?”

“Yes!” she replied passionately. “Let me tell you about a group of students who had to come back for extra classes. At first, they would cut classes and hang out at the local cyber café instead. So I called up their parents and told them what was going on. The parents brought the errant children to class. From then on, it was up to the teacher.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, perplexed.

“You have to make the lesson interesting enough to sustain their attention. At one time, I even bought ice-cream to entice them. You have to do this sort of thing, no choice. But you know what? After a while, they started coming to class of their own volition. And later, they told me, ‘Cikgu, tak payah keluar duit. Kami bayar. (Teacher, don’t use your money. We will pay)’ They pooled together their money and bought the ice-cream. They even got one for me!”

She shook her head in incredulity.

“Once you touch a student’s heart, he will be able to perform,” she continued earnestly. “They just need to know you care.”

As her eyes darkened with emotion, I thought to myself, if Mr Wee, our fearsome Additional Maths teacher, who once roared across three classrooms: “SHARMILA SIVAGNAGAM, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?” could see her today, he would approve.

“Everybody’s worth something, eh?” I said softly.

“Yes,” she nodded. “The same formula works in every aspect of life.”

We fell quiet for awhile, each lost in our own thoughts. All too soon, our yumcha session had drawn to an end. Before she left, Sharmila surprised me by squeezing me in a tight grip, right in the middle of the coffeeshop.

“It was good meeting you again, Bunny,” she whispered. I felt tears forming. And with that, this former tomboy glided away, a vision of feminine grace in her coffee-coloured Punjabi suit.

Yes, some things have changed, I thought to myself. But some things would always be the same. Like the fact that she never failed to make me laugh, and that she was the same plucky girl with the heart of gold that I once adored to bits, and still do.

Alexandra Wong (http://bunnysprints.blogspot.com) is still an idealist at heart. All names have been changed to protect the identities of the persons in the story.

Our Eid Ul-Fitr Journey '09

Selamat Hari Raya dan mohon keampunan dan kemaafan di atas segala salah dan silap dari kami sekeluarga.

p/s: Sekarang ni dah pukul 1.07am. Tadi dah jawab komen2 sebelum ni, puas tekan id dan password tapi asyik keluar 'This form has an error'. Pastu pi komen blog CA pun dapat mesej yang sama. Fed up sebab dah tulis komen panjang tapi x leh nak publish, so hanya buat lawatan kehormat ajelah ke blog sedara mara dan rakan taulan...hihi..

Pukul 12 tengahari tadi kami baru tiba di rumah selepas 6 hari travel bermula pada hari Khamis, 17 Sept dalam pukul 10.30am. Kami memulakan perjalananan raya dari Dammam-Al-Qaseem-Madinah-Mekah-Taif-Riyadh-Dammam sejauh 2500km.

Nak tulis panjang2 pun dah mengantuk..letak gambar ajelah yer..

Absurdity

I read this entry from Fertzy blog and cried my heart out...tak tahu lah nape..heheh...

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider Freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbour.

We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things. We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice.

We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorces, fancier houses, but broken homes.

These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom.

Remember, to spend some time with your loved ones because they are not going to be around forever.Remember,to say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent. Remember, to say, "I love you" to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

Always remember, life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away…..

Happy B'day Apik Mama..

Hari ni b'day Apik yang ke-3. Mama ingat lagi, masa Apik kecik semua orang cakap Apik baik. Che Long Siti cakap, Apik nampak cool aje. Che Long Aida (SIL) cakap dia tak pernah dapat anak yang sebaik Syafiq, tak banyak merengek masa kecil2..

Masa mama mengandungkan Apik, 110% mama confident mama akan dapat anak pompuan sebab rasa lain sikit mengandungkan Apik. Asyik nak something yang berbau rose ajer. Mama beli pencuci muka berbau Rose supaya gian pada bau Rose masa mengandung tu berkurangan. Mama suka tengok tennis, sebab dah confident sangat dapat anak pompuan, tiap kali Maria Sharapova main, mesti mama tenung jer orangnya. Mengikut petua sesetengah orang, kalau nak anak secantik/sehensem sapa2 tengoklah sentiasa muka orang tersebut. Sebab berkenan sangat kat Sharapova, mama nak anak pompuan secantiknya..hihi..

Mama bersyukur yang keluar ialah Wan Ikhwan Syafiq. Masa mengandungkan Syafiq, Papa sedang sibuk gotong-royong buat surau Al-Ikhwan. Kami menamakan Syafiq sempena nama surau tersebut.

Memang dari kecik sampailah sekarang, Apiklah anak mama yang paling tak banyak karenah. Dari kecik Apik suka tidur awal, bangun pagi tak merengek. Walaupun Apik masih hisap botol sekarang, Apik dah tak bangun malam.

Sebab Apik terlalu baik, mama kerap terlepas pandang pada Apik. Mama kerap melayan Iman, Abang dan Jat dari melayan Apik. Mama memang tak perasan sehinggalah masa mama balik bercuti di Kelantan, mama kerap ternampak Ayah Chik sentiasa melayan Apik. Mama tanya Ayah Chik, nape suka layan Apik, Ayah Chik jawab, 'Napok K.Da tok berapo cagho sangat ko dio..'. Mama rasa macam satu tamparan hinggap di muka mama..masa tu baru tersedar kebenaran kata2 adik mama itu..

Sejak berpindah ke sini banyak perkara menyebabkan mama rasa cukup tersentuh hati dengan kebaikan Apik. Mama masih ingat, masa tu mama tengah mandi. Apik tersedar, padahal papa ada tidur sebelah Apik. Bila mama melangkah keluar dari tandas tengok papa dah bangun. Mama pun terasa pelik kenapa papa dah bangun, hari masih awal. Papa cakap nampak Apik dok tercongok tunggu depan tandas nak susu. Tu yang papa bangun.

Kebiasaannya, Apik dan Iman tidur siang hari pada waktu yang sama. Entah kenapa satu hari tu Apik terlelap depan TV terlalu awal. Iman masih ceria lagi. Bila tengah hari, Apik dah segar bugar, Iman pula nak tidur. Kepenatan, mama terlelap bersama Iman. Beberapa kali mama tersedar dan ternampak Apik duduk di kepala mama. Bila mama betul2 sedar, mama tanya, 'Nape Apik tak main kat luar?'. Apik jawab, 'Apik tunggu mama...mama dah tak penat? Apik nak susu..'..

Dua tiga hari lepas, tengah malam Apik datang bisik di telinga mama Apik nak susu. Mama rasa malas pulak nak bangun malam tu. Mama cakap kat Apik, Apik minta dengan papa. Beberapa kali mama suruh Apik minta dengan papa. Mama nampak Apik berjalan ke arah papa. Pastu mama terlelap. Esoknya papa cerita, terkejut papa sedar2 tengok Apik berdiri kat tepi katil sebelah papa. Bila nampak papa buka mata, baru Apik cakap Apik nak susu..

Tapi, Allah swt itu sentiasa menguji hambaNya. Walaupun Apik baik dan tak banyak karenah, Apik kerap tidak sihat. Masalah keturunan asma turun kepada Apik. Sudah dua kali dimasukkan ke hospital.

Pertama kali masuk wad kerana jangkitan kuman di paru2. Mama ingat sampai sekarang. Masa tu mama hairan kenapalah Apik tak nyenyak tidur. Bila mama stop buai, Apik berbunyi 'uh..uh'. Dua jam begitu, mama angkat Apik dan mandikan. Selesai mandi, Apik memang tidak bermaya. Hanya terbaring dan tidak bergerak dan memejamkan matanya kembali. Mama cuba menelefon papa beberapa kali namun tidak bersambut kerana papa sedang meeting. Mama tinggalkan mesej kepada papa.

Agak sasau dan rasa sebak mula menyesakkan dada. Mama minta Abang dan Jat bersedia, mama kemaskan barang2 Apik. Hati naluri mama merasakan Apik akan ditahan dalam wad. Mama angkat Syafiq yang tidak bermaya ke dalam kereta. Abang dan Jat mengikut sahaja. Mama bawa aje kereta tak tahu samada nak menuju ke hospital swasta atau hospital Putrajaya. Berlegar2 mama seketika cuba untuk mencari jawapan yang terbaik dalam keadaan separa sasau itu. (Papa baru tiba dari ofis memangku Syafiq yang tidak bermaya)

3 hari sebelum sudah ke hospital Putrajaya. Sudah terlalu arif dengan karenah hospital kerajaan, mama berniat untuk bawa Syafiq ke hospital swasta. Dalam mama berlegar2 itu papa telefon minta mama tunggu sehingga papa tiba dirumah. Mama menuju ke rumah menunggu papa. Bila papa tiba kami membuat keputusan untuk bawa Apik ke hospital swasta. Company papa tidak menaja perubatan anak dan isteri. Papa dan mama sanggup berhabisan beribu ringgit demi kesihatan Apik. Asalkan Apik sihat dan ceria kembali, itu sahaja harapan mama dan papa.

Syafiq memang perlu diwadkan. Mama ingat lagi, hari tu Syafiq masuk wad, keesokkan harinya bulan Ramadhan. Mama memulakan Ramadhan di hospital. Masa tu juga mama sedang mengandungkan Iman 6 bulan. Keluarga mertua banyak membantu ketika ini. Mami datang ke hospital mengambil Abang dan Jat untuk tidur di rumahnya.(Diwadkan kali pertama berusia setahun)

Masa di hospital, Apik perlu dibuang kahak menggunakan alat khas. Kami berdua perlu tabah ketika proses dijalankan. Syafiq dibalut kemas dengan kain selimut kecil supaya tidak dapat bergerak. Pergerakan yang kuat boleh membawa kepada pendarahan. Papa dan mama sendiri yang perlu memegang Syafiq yang sudah dibalut kemas dalam selimut kecil. Wayar jernih dimasukkan ke dalam hidung dan mulut. Sesekali ternampak darah keluar. Raungan Syafiq cukup menyentuh hati. Hati ibu mama perlu kuat. Mama cuma mahu sayang mama cepat2 sihat.

Pada awalnya, Jat sempat merakamkan proses ini. Tapi, disebabkan kami berdua tidak tahan melihatnya, kami 'delete'kan sahaja.

Alhamdulillah, 5 hari berkampung di hospital, Apik sihat kembali. Masa tu Apik genap setahun.Apik kurus selepas keluar dari hospital..

Kali kedua, Apik masuk wad lagi pada hari raya kedua di Hospital Raja Perempuan Zainab I (dulunya dikenali dengan HBKB), juga lung infection. Mama tetap setia menunggu Apik sehingga Apik sihat. 3 hari berkampung di hospital. Nasib baik keluarga mama di sisi. Umi, Ayah, adik-beradik dan ipar semua memberi sokongan padu dengan menolong tengok2kan Abang, Jat dan Iman yang baru berusia 8 bulan. Umi puji Iman. Umi cakap senang tidurkan Iman. Gosok2kan kepalanya, Iman terlelap. Baik budak ni, ujar Nek Mi pada mama. Alhamdulillah semua Allah swt permudahkan. Masa Apik diwadkan kali kedua, Apik genap dua tahun.

Doktor yang melihat rekod Syafiq mengkategorikan penyakit Apik sebagai yearly event!

Semalam masa mama nak solat maghrib, mama cakap kat Apik, 'Esok b'day Apik. Esok Apik 3 years old..'. Apik diam saja. Apik cakap Apik nak solat dengan mama. Mama ambik sejadah kecik untuk Apik. Mama cakap kat Apik, 'Kalau Apik rajin solat, nanti Allah swt sayang Apik, mama pun sayang Apik.' Apik tanya mama, 'Nanti Allah sayang Apik yer mama?'. Mama jawab, 'Yelah, Apik solat pastu Apik doa pada Allah swt supaya Apik sentiasa sihat.' Mama sentiasa percaya doa anak2 kecil ini akan dimakbulkan.

Tiba-tiba Apik cakap kat mama, 'Mama...Apik tak nak sakit lagi...Apik tak nak cucuk kat tangan lagi...Apik sakit cucuk kat tangan'..

Hari ni B'day Apik, Apik tak berapa sihat. Muntah2. Ni Apik sedang tidur kepenatan selepas muntah entah untuk kali ke berapa. Mama doakan sayang mama semoga cepat2 sihat...