Friday, May 29, 2009

Warning: It may be confusing

The dichotomy in me:

1. likes to talk to people but hates getting attention

2. is opinionated but private about my 2 sense (pun intended)

3. is not bothered what other people say but is intrigued to know nonetheless

4. is a cynic but still thinks the world is wonderful

Maybe we all are like that; having contrasting traits which cannot seem to co-exist and yet funnily they do..

Thus.. (got conclusion wan..)

I can only concede that we shouldn't be labelling or be judgemental towards other people..

"He is a hypocrite!"

"She is so hamsap!"

There are too elementary.

For he may be a hypocrite but a caring person.

..and she, though hamsap, could be kind as well.

What am I getting at? Are you still with me? Haha..

Haiyarr... I just hope I am wise enough not to meng-adjektif-kan gooly all the time, cos seriously, they don't mean anything.

Think about it.. we are never JUST one thing. We are onions -multi layered. Each occasion renders a different side of us.

Do I know you?

Do you know me?

Do they know us?

I guess the answer is..




...who cares???

Actually..I do. Haha!

PS: If you totally understand what I am saying, a Nobel prize awaits you.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Time to spare!

The other day, I thought I was supposed to meet a friend at 4pm.

I was there at 4pm. Tardiness is never a problem of mine.

As it turned out, she was still at the office at 4pm, can't leave till an hour later, and thought we were meeting only when she calls while I thought...bla..bla.. bla..

It was a case of major communication breakdown.

So there I was, sipping my Ipoh White Coffee, and she texted, "Sorry. Angry ka?"

You know what? I wasn't.

It's just another idle hour with Gooly. It could be that I enjoy his company most of the time, or that the share market doesn't fluctuate that much with or without my presence. So I really don't mind that I had to while that hour away.

Many believe and live by the concept of "they are there to get us!" ; that the human race exists to give them a hard time. They come late so that you solidify and become a statue , they turn on the music so loudly so you turn deaf..and sometimes they even plot your death so they can inherit your handbags.

Preposterous? To me, yes. No one is out there to get you, for goodness sake!

At least that is what I'd choose to think. Chill la, babe.

Have I achieved the status of stoicism? Far from it.. I do give the occasional grunts and grumps. But I hardly think I am being treated like a doormat.

Maybe it's the friends that I choose to have. I know they don't deliberately cause hurt and malaise.

Maybe I accept people for who they are. Some are stingy, some are freaks, the rest need lobotomies. If you accept the confusing dichotomy in me, it's fine how you want to be.

Or maybe even simpler, I just have time to spare. (No dime, though :P)


*Be late, but apologetic.

*Jump Q, but let me know why.

*Honk if you must, but crash into the pole later.

(The last is governed by my occasional whim :P)

Yay! I am great at NOT multiplying carcinogenic cells. Yay! I am gonna live to a 100!

Friday, May 22, 2009

Childhood Amnesia? No such thing, Dr Freud!

When was your earliest memory?

Freud said we all suffer from "childhood amnesia" - an inability to recall our earliest childhood, which I beg to differ.

For most of us, any earlier than 5 yrs old, is a blank slate. My sis can't remember her kindergarten days.

Papah cannot remember what he had for breakfast this a.m. But that's another story.

As for me, being slightly abnormal and out of the ordinary, I don't fall in the same category as most people. I remember loads, particularly those occurrences which took place before I even went to kindergarten. *slowly sink into a pensive mood*

Like... late uncle who used to bite me on my arm while asking, "Chicken or duck?" which of course, whichever I chose was the WRONG answer, and he would continue biting.

..and the time..

..I pushed my late grandmother on a trolley (the flat, foldable type with wheels which carries goods?) and she fell and bled profusely. I must state that it wasn't my idea of fun, pushing a trolley with an elderly standing on it. She instigated it! (RIP, ahma. Oh no no..I didn't kill her! She died much much later!)

..and also that time.. underwear fell off as I clambered out of the swimming pool. I was feeling lucky that my other uncle who was the only witness showed no traces of laughter. I appreciated that. But I was due to discover his betrayal as he related this unfortunate event to an eager audience, which drew a head thrown back, explosive and guttural laughter (which probably lasted for at least 2 minutes).


I would have a bad tummy ache in school, and didn't know how to go and release myself, and ended up with a stained uniform. Speaking of stained uniform, another day in the same year, a bird would gaily drop its 'blessing' onto my shoulder, just when I was due to run the 4 x 100m relay (with an egg on a spoon or something equally challenging.)

So, why this sudden trip down the 'embarrassing' lane?

I remember (again! RAM not full yet ah?) kidding with GG that, "I can do whatever I want with Gooly before he turns 4, because MOST people don't keep any memories prior to that age. So I can whip, thrash, scold, cane, 'anything' him before that and he won't remember."

So Just imagine my horror...when he proves otherwise!

This incident happened almost a year ago. Most of you might recall.. it was notoriously titled as "Like Sai".

This morning, he requested the same; his bread to be cut by yours truly. The only difference was he added albeit nonchalantly, "But don't say it's like sai after you cut it.."

He remembers.. even though I had meant for him to remember much later.

Sigh.. I have lamented often that he is like his father, unlike me. Well, he is like me afterall. We are both elephants (not size wise, ok?). Like this mammal with trunks, we don't press ALT+Ctrl+DEL very often.

Sigh..It's a fait accompli.

But rest assured, I won't repeat it.

I'm sorry again, Gooly.

Thursday, May 21, 2009


OK, so there are Algophobia, Bibliophobia, Cymophobia ...all right up to Zelophobia. Which means somebody is very very afraid of something that begins with every (dem) letter, except for the letter Q and Y.

I gotta think of something to be afraid of that begins with the letter Q (hey hey! My surname! Q-phobia - afraid of myself. Woo hoo~).

That leaves Y.

Why isn't anyone afraid of yoyos? A 4 yr-old can ask you to roll up the (dem) toy repeatedly till you shudder in fear at the sight of it. I'm ssssss--seeerious!

I'm not telling what I'm scared of, though the list can get quite long-ish.

*whisper note* You wanna know what Gooly is afraid of?


Not the dark... that's too common.

3, 2, 1



His own! (He might add another pair if he had a whiff of GG's pungent ones! :P)

He is so ticklish... that area is a strict NO ENTRY zone.

Washing his ketiak is a chore, I tell you! There are endless screams and finally "I do it myself!" and then he giggles himself silly. -_-

Wiping them dry is equally energy draining. He wriggles like a cacing, and I had to resort to , "STAND STRAIGHT! PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" - military style. -_-

And when we want to carry him up on a hairchair, he ends up rolling on the floor with fits of laughter. It's so darn dramatic.

It's almost cruel to ask from him a high-5, but instead of slapping his palm, we aim at his ketiak. But we love doing it.


Gosh! I didn't realise I wasn't whispering anymore! OK, back to whispering mode...Shh...

..and then ..and then....

Why you so pat-kwa?

No more spilling his secrets ler.. Next time I tell Papah's ok? ;- )

Psssst.... don't tell Gooly I say one, ok?

Pssst again.. Qetiakphobia sounds good eh? Let me contact the American Psychology Association.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

4 turning 30

It's very common to be asked: Wei, when is your second one coming ah?

This I do not have the answer. Sometimes I bullcrap my way out of the question. Sometimes I lay out arguments. Sometimes I blatantly lie (either NEVER! or TOMORROW!, depending on who is asking, time of the month and mood of the day)

So many have given up hope on me. Like my family members or close friends, they don't ask me anymore. Instead they think a sure-win approach will be using Goolypop as THE NEGOTIATOR.

"Gooly, you want a baby sister or brother not?"

*pik pok pik pok, my heart thumping*

During the last interrogation (3 mths back), he had naively said, "Yes!" without really understanding the whole meaning of having an additional member in the family. (Gooly, it's not buying 'sawi' in the market, okeh? It's not cheap and non-refundable, okeh?)

This time round, he has his fair share of questioning again by well-meaning people.

So what is his reply?

a. YES!
b. NO!
c. I dunno?

Because Gooly is 4, turning 30 this year..his answer naturally is none of the above.

He hugged me around my big barrel my waist, and said, "You decide.."

Awww.... It sounded to me like he was saying, "Hey mom, no pressure! You decide! It doesn't matter if ahma, ah kong, papah, the neighbour, the vegetable seller or I want it. The important thing is YOU want it.."

That, of course...OR..

He probably sensed my non-committal grunts whenever the question is placed on my shoulder. So he is not saying yes anymore.


He probably thought it's unfair to say he wants, when he is not exactly the one who will get inseminated. So he better 'taichi' the task back to me.


He probably decided that he should not be used as a guerilla war weapon. "Dont make use of me. Hmmph!"


He probably did not want to be responsible making an ultra heavy decision, because after all, "The baby can fit in your stomach, not mine.."


He probably made better sense, "I am not the bread winner. I got no milk. I cannot change diaper. Che! Why ask me?"

"You decide.."

The wise words of a 4 year old (turning 30) which ended the discussion of a heavy and not exactly interesting topic.

Ah... that little man.. growing threefolds every year. Next year he will be 40.. He will probably be asking me to relax more, go for vacations while he goes to school.

Dream on, babeh..dream on.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Africa, here we come!

Of all places....! Africa isn't exactly on my top ten destinations list. But Gooly chose it.

For vacation? Hoi! So early dreaming ah?

To hunt for elephants? Hoi! Do you think I am like GG? :P

We are going there, not now...much much later. But we have a plan.

Sigh.... It all happened like this.

Out of the blue, ahbu decided to give some moolah to Gooly. He was very excited, and kept reminding 'ahmah' of her promise.

"Amah, you remember to give me money ok?" while waving his wallet (dun pray pray, got wallet, wokeh?)in front her face.

I was getting annoyed at his impertinent requests, so I shot him my infamous 'stop-it-already' look.

Fattchinhorn meh?

After the tenth time he ngamcham about his RM1 (I assumed) allowance/salary/bribe/reward, I inhaled and asked, "Why do you need the money for?"

"For Africa!"

"Are you going Africa? I didn't know that.." That's how I usually respond when I am caught offguard; with a dash of sarcasm.

"YES! I am building houses for the poor poor people who don't have houses. I need a plan.."

With that, he whipped out a pen and a notebook, and started drawing what looks like a tepee.




For his sweetness, instead of RM1, he got RM12 from his ahmah!



Awww...... my ahbu is so shweet too! And encouraging!

He will perhaps one day forget about his big charity dream...but awwww.....he did at least think about it once! When I was four, I only thought of how to steal my neighbour's rambutan, ok??

One last time...

Awww..... !!!!!

(Wait, I am sounding like Liucas already!!)

(Don't rob my son, ok? )

(Wanna contribute to his African Home Dream? I can open paypal account!!)

(When you were 4, did you think you could save the world too? Or like me, you were only interested in 'dindeang' chocolate and chikedees and of course, ozone layer...:P)

Friday, May 15, 2009

It's about her again

Do you remember how your mom or dad looked like to you, when you were younger?

When you were only four feet tall?

..and everyone else looked gargantuan?

Well, I have always perceived my ahbu as, a little on the heavier side. Pretty nonetheless, with her double-lidded eyes. But I disapprove of her 'paujarjong' bombing curly hair. Haha.

I remember also...

..that she sometimes walked me to the kindergarten. Once, I told her that I would close my eyes, she must hold on to my hand, and guide me as we walk. Moments later, I stepped into a hole, and fell. Does that make me trust her less? Not really.. I just wondered what she was thinking during that short silent journey. Because, even when I have not completed my alphabet then, I already knew how to sense the meaning of her silent reverie; she wasn't completely happy.

... and a little later, when I was 9, I received an award for being first in class. I was also in an Indian dance performance. For many nights, she would ask me to perform for her, solo. There were quite some butt-shaking actions there. On the actual ceremony day, she didn't work, and came to watch me perform on stage. In my gaudy seven-tiered skirt, I worried..that she couldn't understand English or Bahasa, and wouldn't know where to be seated. Would she know it's my turn to dance? Would she know that they have just announced my name to receive the prize?

"Did you see me? Did you see me?" I repeated, sounding like a broken record.


Even if she had lied, I don't blame her. She was there. She wanted to be there. That's all that mattered.

..and there was a time, I bade her "Good Night." She said she couldn't pronounce the words.

I helped her, emphasizing on the 'G' sound and 'N' sound for a good ten minutes. She stammered a bit, mispronounced a bit. Finally when she said it right, she confessed that she knew, but just wanted to tease me. To me, it also means she wanted to spend time with me.

That's one 10 minute I treasure forever.

..And now? All I can say is..

She has aged so much. Her hair is white. Her face sunken. Her arms and legs frail looking. She has lost half her weight.

She lost her mobility.

She lost her independence.

While I do not have the remedy for her ailments, I hope we can offer other aspects of therapy.

Today, Gooly said, "Amah, I take care of you, want or not?" while holding her hand when descending the stairs.

Love. Sympathy. Care. Help. Attention.

Ahbu, it's time you get them.

It's not that we haven't tried supplying them before, but when she is so busy giving and with 'selfless' as her middle name, her 'receiving' mode can be turned off.

Ahbu, turn on your antenna.Saudoemoe?

Thursday, May 14, 2009

A conversation with Rain

Not the Korean superstar-lar!

It's the drip drip drop Rain.

We were at the beach (which pics I will not post due to strict censorship) and Gooly was obviously upset that it rained. He was standing at the door, and hurling mega-loud instructions to Mr. Rain.

"Rain! Stop!"

It began with that, and he rambled on until it sounded like a soliloquy. I thought his words were somewhat poetic. I jotted down his words on the serviette .(Eh, like JK Rowling..Heheh!) Where there were pauses, I added my lines. But mostly, it was his.

Note: He swapped roles, becoming the questioner and answerer inter-changeably. So I will highlight his words in red, and add inverted comas for Rain's reply. The black words were my nosy intrusions.


Can you hear me?
Where are your ears?

Can you see me?
Where are your eyes?
"I have none!"

What are you doing here?
"Watering the plants.."
"..and fallin' on the grounds.."

You don't belong here!
"Where do I go?"
Up there in the sky..

"Then, blame it on Mr. Gravity
He pulled me down.."

Where is the other Gravity?
I want to know

The other gravity who will push you back up!

"Miss Anti Gravity?"

Yes, Miss Empty Gravity..
Please bring rain away
I want to play..

Go away..

Time and tide wait for no man
Come another day, can?
:) What a conversation. I like it when he talks like that. Stimulating, pleasant and dreamy..

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Toilet story part 6 - Goolymama kapsih

(for part 2 - 5, you have to rent from Ezzy Video in your friendly neighbourhood)

An "Oh shit!" expression is appropriate and acceptable when..

... the slushy shit is approximately 2mm away from your shit-hole.

.. but you are in a taxi, and unlike Bas VVIP Kemboja to Singapore, it contains no shit-hole.

... and there are 100 cars ahead of your vehicle at the 'everyday not spoil but today spoiled ' traffic light. are stuck in a shit-hole. (Come learn semantics with me! )

What a shituation! (Expand your vocabulary with me!)

It's a good thing that I learned Wing Chun for 2 days when I was 5.. I think it helped to control the biggest muscle on our body, which is the butt-lar..where else?

Sweat trickled down on my brows as I hushed Gooly's yakking (because I needed to concentrate on the tautness of my aforesaid muscle.)

Nearing our apartment, I gave directions to Gooly which sounded more like a warning, "When the taxi stops, run, as fast you can! Run like a dog is chasing after you.."

He nodded, looking like I have entrusted him with the world's biggest mission. By then, he already knew about the rumble in my tummy. It's a good thing that we can say aloud words like orsi, kapsi, lai si, lembik si, ngang si without embarrassing ourselves here.

Sometimes he makes announcements to the whole kingdom of Thailand with words like, "Mama, you PANGSAI? Soft or hard?" in a crowded public toilet. I'd flush, exit and wonder if the next patron of the cubicle can guess the meaning of PANGSAI, with the traces of aroma I left behind.

Anyways, back to the shituation yesterday..

I cleverly adapted the Lamaze childbirth breathing technique to tahan the unstoppable.

Fuu fuu fuu fuu~ *hold breath*'s coming out! *wipe brows*

Fuu fuu fuu fuu fuu~ *exhale*

"YOU CAN DO IT, MAMA!" Gooly cheered.


I tell you..

It was difficult to laugh when you have the contract certain muscles while releasing the others. It's like smiling and frowning at the same time.

And to make it worse, he taught me how to 'do it'.

He made a swift movement which involved two open palms which were joined in a flash, and said, "You 'tzerp' ( a zipping sound?) your backside, and hold you 'sai'."

Moments later, we were running at the corridor, me holding my butt (as if it would help!) and laughing hysterically and swearing internally. A natural multi-tasker, I am. ;-)

After I unleashed all the 'unwanted', gooly congratulated and acknowledged my success-

"You made it! I told you, you can do it! Good job!'

Chartoe yang teramat chartoe.

Toilet story part 1

How often do I scrub the toilet?

When necessary..


...a.k.a the moment you don't need a microscope to inspect those micro-organisms residing there.


Because it's just not one of my top ten things to do. (durrr!)

Having said that, it doesn't take Stephen Hawking to know that I hate..hate..hate..cuci jamban!

This morning, while squatting and scrubbing and cursing and sulking, a soft tap on the shoulder came.

"WHAT? I am in the midst of annihilating microorganisms! Die, you protozoa.. " was just at the tip of my tongue. I held the words in time to look at a young chubby cheek face, still in his snug Nemo PJs. His hair melayang-layang, sticking out at all directions.

"Good job, mama. Thanks for washing the toilet."

What the.....

Is this the time, Gooly?

What do I do?

What do I say?

"Not now, Gooly..not now! I am washing the toilet or you can have mushrooms for lunch later..!"

That's one probable retort.


I could smile and say thanks, feel appreciated and loved.

I choose option 2. Wait... that's not an option. It's the ULTIMATE decision.

If not for the dirty toilet scrub in my hand, I'd have given him a hug too. :-)

Saturday, May 9, 2009

I think Gooly is needed in Ipoh

Every child has different temperaments.

I am lucky that Gooly has never been too difficult. Genes (mine!), they say, have a contribution. Up-bringing too. So, it's a case of 50/50?

..which means I have 40% responsibility of shaping Gooly's attitude.

Let me explain my mathematical analysis. (Wipe that simper of your face! I can do it!)

50% - genes attribution, which cannot be proven no matter how much it's being debated, so let's just drop it. We don't annihilate brain cells at my blog.

10% - papah's responsibility. I am giving him this tiny percentage just so that we have a source to blame when things go wrong.

And that leaves 40% of big fat mass of responsibility resting on my shoulder.

Gee, I can do sums, for once. *smirk*

Anyways, realizing this self-mathematical theory has gotten me prepared way before hand. I fretted about having a 'demanding' baby, you see. So I coaxed him to be good, even during pre-natal stages. (Sayang sayang the tummy and nag nag nag)

When he was older, and thus was able to understand and accept reasoning, I empathized with him when the occasion arises and helped him to relate his feelings, seperti contoh-contoh berikut:

"Don't sulk when you wake." (How hypocritical! I sulk when I wake! :P)

"Control your anger! Cannot kick or roll on the floor!" (Because I still want to come to this shop!)

"No need to get upset. We can fix that toy.." (and throw it in the bin next)

At present, he has gotten the hang of it. He knows happiness is the essence of life. He tries hard to conceal his tears. I am not asking him to hide his feelings, but there ought to be a barometer of some sort to measure the 'pressure' in him before he explodes. In simple lay man's term, "don't simply show temper."

And he ought to know some things are just not worth getting upset for. Or, if he really have to be upset, get over it quick! (No.1 rule when he starts 'fatt hiao' with girls, agree?)

Penat wei...But a mother gotta do what she is best at. Nag..and then nag some more.

Malang tidak berbau.. he is imparting his lessons unto me now.

When I scowl, he says, "Smile, it's not nice to frown."

When I mop up the drink he spilled, grudgingly, he tells me, "It was an accident. No need to get angry."

When I lose my temper, he announces, "You are very mean. Be nice, can you?"

It's either like a slap across my face or a thumbs up, when these identical words are thrown back at me. I just cannot decide. So I just walk away most of the time with my ego bruised, and conscience damaged.

But what he said is true. Every single word. Every argument, fight, even war can be resolved with what he suggested.

Looks like I deserve a pat on the back after all, don't I? Thanks to me, my son is an annoying peace maker. Ipoh town, need me to send my son over?

(BTW, I said pat..don't take chance to whack me..)

Hoho, I am entitled to celebrate Hari Bonda after all... "Si shang ji yew mama hau..."

Friday, May 8, 2009

Gooly lost his bag

At an undisclosed time and venue, a little red bag which contained a pair of scissors, some crayons and a Madagascar tumbler, was reported missing.
A mahmee went ballistic. She had conniptions at the LOST & FOUND, in the taxi and also at home.

And now she is hoarse. And there is no Tan Ngan Loe or Wong Lo Kat in the Kingdom of Stolen Bags.

The end.

Rancangan ini BUKAN ditaja oleh makhluk asing berikut:

Mother's Day? Not for me..

Following is three ceritas, which were drafted but not published because...erm..Mother's Day is coming, and I want a gift. :P They revolve around the theme of 'space constraint', and if you took Literature 101, I am sure you can detect a tinge of I YAM A BAD MOTHER confession. For Mother Day's sake, the author is remorseful, of course.

In pre-marital relationships, I was never clingy. Even at younger ages, I had been detected with a solitary attitude. I am not the sort who needs companions all the time. I have never quite understood the embarrassment some would feel when they are caught eating alone. I am more than ok with the idea of papah gallivanting with his pals once a while. I encourage it even because he doesn’t do it often and every man needs a beer now and then. It is, after all, God’s next best creation after man, according to Benjamin Franklin.

I am ok with myself

I think I like me.

Fine, I am some-what narcissistic.

But solitude doesn’t come by often when you are a full time mother. In my case, I have a four year old who clings to me like a Siamese twin, born 30 years apart. (Funny! I love my sardonic humour!)

Gooly goes to sleep holding my hand, with his pillow properly aligned with mine, with a 3mm gap.

In the morning, I wake when my eyes are forcefully pried open. Though blurry due to my poor eyesight, I can sense Gooly’s presence because he is merely inches away from my face.

Now you must know that I get irascible when I am awoken! *ROAR*I am cheery some mornings. I appreciate the blue sky and pay homage to Gaea even. But most mornings… I need to be alone for a while!

(Papah suggested that I wake earlier, when all is still dark, and I can be alone all I want. The smart alec sure needs a swift kick in the arse.)

Because Gooly isn’t dispensable easily, I have resorted to "Waterloo" escapades. Even then, a soft knock will come with an impertinent request.

“Mahmee, can I have a cookie?”

For a moment, I am irresolute. Say yes, so that he can let me have a peaceful shit? Or say NO and flush and exit?

I choose the latter because I do not wish to be out-smarted by my son who has an innate ability to know when I am most likely succumb to his requests in search of quiet moments a.k.a peaceful shit.

Am I typing this in solitude? Of course not. He is like a fly hovering waiting to be swatted.

A fly swatter.

That’s what I want for Christmas.

Write that down please.

While there are aqua babies, Gooly was just not one of them. He is always careful around water. He walks down the steps into the pool, never jumps into the pool. With swimming as part of his daily activities, he has gotten bolder though.

Yesterday, he attempted to ‘dive’ into the pool, after giving very specific instructions to me.

First, you bend down.

Then you put your hands out.

Then you scratch (and he scratched his elbow).

“You surely meant s-t-r-e-t-c-h, and not scratch, son?”

No, scratch, and then dive.

That’s preposterous. And I refused to follow his strict regime. Trust an uncooperative mahmee cum playmate to build character, eh? The only child is often depicted as spoilt, autocratic and selfish. Gooly will not be one of them because his mahmee is more spoilt, autocratic and selfish, but that’s another story. :P

And so he gave in. He said I could dive which ever way I wanted.

I opted for a double loop, backward and fore-leap pancake dive.

With a loud splash.

.. which resulted in a considerable water reduction in the pool. Imagine a hippo diving. Heheh.

Gooly laughed mercilessly and with mirth.

Swimming is so much fun, when you have a hippo mom.

Hippos float well. Coincidentally I love to float. Actually I love the ‘vacuum’ sensation when all the sounds (especially those emitted from Gooly) are being drowned out as the waters cover my ears..

..and it’s just the blue skies and me.

..for at least a few seconds.

... better than nothing.

This is the last piece which brings us to the conclusion of "Gooly is a far more better person than his mom." (Jot down what the professor says, ok?)

Even though unpublished, he must have sensed the existence of the earlier stories. Or have I been emitting the 'bugger off' aura too often?

As reported, he wakes the earliest. And I have not been exactly sugar and spice.

This morning, as usual, he awoke only to yell, "Mahmeeeeee, I am done! Please come wash me~'

#*$)@$*! Early early, had to face excrement. Annoyed, and groggy, I stepped in .

Huh? He hid his face in his hands and said, "Don't frown at me."

Who in the world looks nice in the morning prior face wash? And with a scowl, it is very dahsyat..

Don't kill me. I already said I yam a bad mother.

So I went back to bed. *hold your knife!*

For many many minutes, I was between dates with 'chaukung' and hearing Gooly's soft 'zoom, kabish, feeeeuw'(he was playing with his car toys)

You see, he has been very considerate, playing quietly while patiently awaits my 'awakening!'.

When I finally did, he gave a cheery grin and a peck on the cheek.

"Good MORNING, mahmee!"

There are some mixed-up roles here.

He is mothering me.

Mother's Day?I feel mocked.

That said, I, Goolymama..*put hand on my LV bag* bersumpah akan cuba.. CUBA bangun pukul 7 pagi mulai esok.


Thursday, May 7, 2009

Fight! FIGHT! Kau meng arrrr!

Warning: This is gonna be one long post involving tears, nags, disappointments, fights, busybody, MYOB, sharing, heartbreaks etc. Sila pasangkan helmet anda.

As the pool was closed, we were forced to play at the park instead. We were tossing a Frisbee-like toy when a group of children were spotted nearby. A boy brandished a sword, and another, a gun. Sword boy is around 6, while gun boy is older, 8 maybe? I could see Gooly was eager to join in the battle game.

After a while, he did manage to obtain the role of a combat soldier. How did the gun change hand, I am not sure. I try to stay away as much as possible so he could learn some social skills on his own.

Very soon later, Mr. 8 yr old seemed upset. He was blaming Mr. Swordboy for his 'lost' gun. Ok, time to intervene. I asked Gooly to return the gun, and he obliged, saying cheerfully, "We take turns!"

That's my boy.. always innocent and willing to share, and following the rule of taking turns. Let me tell you, every time he brings a toy to the pool, another friend (PinPin) would want to bring back the toy, and Gooly will allow (after his 100 reminders of, "Please bring back tomorrow.")

But we are not starring in a sitcom, are we? Where everything is nice and wonderful?

Far from it..because, again for unknown reasons, the aforesaid boys started fighting. The 8 yr old was raging..kinda out of control while hurling abuse at the other bloke and crying at the same time. The 6 yr old was a toughie. He shouted back, and if my Thai serves me correctly, the shouts were some-what along the line of:

YOU GET OF HERE! IF YOU DARE, COME FIGHT! (showing fist and one leg up)

The commotion of course got Gooly's attention. He stood there, mouth agape.

I motioned Gooly to come over. Mei sei gor meh?

When one of the parents came over to dissolve the fight, Gooly stood right between the boys, (Gooly, what you doing there? Come here!) and said, "PEACE! Don't fight.." *smack head*

Gooly ah gooly..don't so busy body can or not? Come here la!

While the adults were gushing over his ahem, persuasive skill, I was so worried he was gonna get punched in his face! (It will happen one day, ohmygard!.)

Naturally, everyone also no mood already, right? But Gooly thought in his most jocund-self, "Let's continue playing, it's my turn with the gun."

But he was being very sensitive as well. He sat next to the gun-boy, and consoled him. Although the boy didn't know what Gooly ngam ngam cham cham about (Are you feeling better? ), but his gestures were warm and kind (I think I saw his hand on the boy's shoulder.)

When he deemed the interim was good enough, he asked to hold the gun. (The above kind gestures may be a gimmick, after all.) The boy stood up, huffed and puffed, and stormed away.

Oh boy... Gooly was so disappointed. And flooded the place with his tears. He really thought they were friends. He would have surrendered his toy if the boy asked for it.

Outbursts as such and me don't get along too well. So I got mad as well and as hell. Once we reached home, fuiyoh.....the fury unleashed itself!

He cried, I yelled, he cried some more, I yelled louder...

Haih..what a bad evening.

There are so many things to teach him in that half hour episode. I lectured all in one huff. I am in the mood to nag, so I am gonna repeat them here. ("you" is referring to Gooly, ok):

a. Yes, I am proud you always share. But not everyone is like you. You can't force people to share with you. And more so, when the boy hardly knows you.

b. When there is a fight, walk away. It's rude to stare, and in their fury, they might hurt you.

c. MYOB! Walk away, don't get involved!

d. When someone refuse to share, say "fine!" and walk away. Toughen up, boy!

e. BTW, the two boys didn't play nicely. Don't play like that.

f. But you must still share your toys even when other don't want to share.

Am I making sense here? Arrrggh...I just want to bang my head against the wall. Have I covered everything? *Bang again*

Gooly, do you understand? *bang*

Gooly, please don't cry. *bang*

Gooly, I am sorry the world is not so nice. *beat chest*

Gooly, I am sorry you are hurt. *bang*

Gooly, I am sorry you have to be the nice guy.*beat chest*


Mean Mean World, I hatechew! Anyone got plaster for my forehead?

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Potong rumput

While we were in KL, in February (Gosh! Has it been almost three months already?), Gooly was sighted with a 'sakai' mop of hair, as below.

So, I took him to the saloon. The chap asked, "In school yet?", referring to Gooly-lah. I said nochet, please feel free to express your creativity, but don't shock my mother in law.

Smiling? You are confident about this haircut, Gooly?

Still happy..Must be thinking about the lolly I promised.

Starting to get apprehensive.. Perhaps, reminiscing the time he got his ala-maddox hairstyle.

Maddog hairstyle circa July 2007

Starting to fidget. Hating the itchiness. Asking "rwedoneyet" every 10 seconds.

Tadaaa! Handsome, some some some! (Echo :P)

That was then. Today he is one sakai boy again. See the fringe almost reaching his eyes? See how fast his hair grows?

I actually trimmed it a few weeks ago. If I hadn't, it would have been longer! Haih.. tomorrow I will hafta spend another 100 bahts at the saloon.

Why don't I cut for him and save the moolah? Well...because the last time I did..

Hahahahah! Isn't this more sakai than his current hair? Seriously, that was the last time I CUT his hair, wokeh? My friend even asked me to vow solemnly never ever to sabotage his hair anymore.

Still smiling, Gooly? Kakakakak! Seen yourself in the mirror yet? :P

Any suggestion for his next hair-do? Jangan sabo, ok? (Only I can sabo!)

My culinary skill, or the lack of it

When I was ten, I was reprimanded by my 2nd brother when he found out I couldn't cook my own Maggi Perencah Ayam.

This is what he taught me: 'tak tak' light up the stove with the 'gun', boil water and put in noodles with MSG. With a DUH end note..

That was my first self-cooked meal. 20 odd years later, I have progressed to adding an egg on top of my yummy-licious Maggi.

Forgive my blase attitude towards cooking.

I just dislike chopping onions. Those darn plants make me cry.

And I hate it when Papah gets suspicious with questions like, "Are you sure the fish is cooked?" Hulloh, steaming fish is darn easy, ok? Don't doubt my 'skill'.

I hate it more when he is right. The darn fish is not cooked. Bluek!

But I do try to improve. Especially so when there are pictures of cute bentos displayed everywhere. So I did one for Gooly today..tadddaaa!

What? Circular cucumbers are not IN anymore? And the egg could have been cuter if I made little bunnies and pandas out of it?

But wait...! My Bento comes with a cute Madagascar cover!

Still not cute enough? Look down.. (not at yourself-lah! The picture below!)

See? My set comes with matching tumbler! Cute-nyer....

Ok, I deserve zero points for bento-ism. Might as well tell you, it wasn't even me who bought the cute Tupperware set. To me, Ikea's are good enough.

Now that you know I am not all that brilliant, or supermom-ish, do you still love me? (give me points for honesty, will ya?)

*sharpening kitchen utensils*

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Gooly swims

3 posts in a day? Never mind lah! This is history in making!

Gooly swam! Or rather, is swimming without his arm floats. Now let me track back the history of his swimming gala.

At 8 months, he had his first dip.

As you can see, he had very little hair. Hoi, don't go off the tangent! His float was kinda sissy, but it was marked down by 70%. By one and half, his fatty thighs couldn't fit into the two leg-holes anymore. I reckon he didn't like that float much, to begin with. Well, he would always insist the top umbrella-flap to be pushed down. He knew he was too macho for that.

Without that sissy float, we spent many wet afternoons, splashing by the pool. *yawn* I could never spend more than half hour at the pool then. It was too 'stationary'.

So we bought him another float. And a board for extra safety measure. And yet, he was adamant about remaining only in the kid's pool.

We'd invite him to swim with us, he'd politely decline with a "No, thank you."

We'd say, "It's fun!", and he'd think lining up Dorothy the fish with the scooter is equally excitable.

He would ask for all sorts of swimming gear; flippers, mask, oxygen tank, goggles, etc. but he would just remain seated at the pool. So of course we didn't get him any except for the goggles, which he wore at home more than at the pool.

Can we say, at this point that he was a reluctant swimmer? Yes, you could have given him a bath tub the size of a basin, and he'd be just as happy, as long as he deemed it was safe.

Can you imagine even with a history of three years in the pool, he has never gotten his head dunk in?( except for the few mishaps, when Papah was in guardian). For a while, I was eager for him to gain confidence. I coaxed and cajoled, without being too pushy.

He started kicking with his float in the adult pool with me since we moved here. While I am pleased that he is safety conscious, but part of me kinda wished he is more adventurous, more daring, more jump in-see later kinda attitude.

Though in Malaysia, I don't often seen kids that age swim at ease, but here.. all kids that age can swim! Without floats! In the adult pool! It's so cute to watch them kick, gasp for air, kick, gasp for air...

While thinking of another few more years to wait, he surprised me two days ago! He decided to remove his floats, put on his goggles, and dunk in his head!

Just like that!

I have told myself many times. This boy is a master of himself. He decides what and when to do stuff.

And so this is another milestone which I am very very proud of. Within minutes, he was kicking and blowing out bubbles like a pro.

I went in the water to look at him.

My boy, so cute, with his cheeks puffed out, hair whirling, smiling, bubbles babbling. And I thought, " I haven't seen him from this angle.." Have you, of your kids? I just kept looking at him. And he spun around me again and again. Though soundless, I could feel his laughter in the water.

It's all very mystical and magical. The weightless sensation, the hair melayang layang, the broad grin.. :)

And amidst the silence, I thought, "Just when I thought you couldn't, you proved me wrong!"

I am glad I was wrong.. :)

Greng Jai

After staying in Bangkok, off and on, for three years, I have finally found the word that describes all the weird and incomprehensible situations that happened here.

The locals call it 'greng jai', but their definition doesn't include weird or incomprehensible. This 'greng jai' is ingrained in them, so to them, it's nothing weird and they fully understand the importance of it.

But not for non-locals. It's frustratingly w-e-i-r-d.

Erm.. I think the characteristics of 'greng jai' is something like our version of 'paiseh' (but far more 'dahsyat', I must warn you!)

"Come, I give you a lift!"

"No need laa.. Paiseh.."

You know? You don't want to cause inconvenience to the person offering you the kindness.

At my other defunct blog, I related an incident where a local took a long way, which requires me to walk across an overhead bridge, instead of using a short cut because.."greng jai". She deemed it's 'greng jai' for me to spend 2 minutes of my lifetime to cross the bridge. Very inconvenient for me, you see? So we ended up paying an extra 40 bahts and another 5 minutes of my lifetime in a taxi, all because of their 'greng jai" culture.

Doesn't make sense to me.

The other day, at the bowling alley, we ordered a cup of latte at the cafe which took a million years to come. When the waitress put the cup on the table, she apologized because they ran out of coffee, and thus she had to go to another stall to purchase the latte. Why didn't just tell us, "NO HAVE? Because.."Greng jai.."

But..but..but.. at the cafe, they charged 70 Baht, and at the stall, it was only 30 Baht...Again, because of 'greng jai', we became suckerrrrs again.

I heard another real story about a farang, who fell in love with a local chick. He thought this time, it's for real. He was prepared to 'dumdumdumdum', jump off the cliff with her. One day, while having dinner, his gf (so he thought) nonchalantly announced that she was leaving for Australia for good the next day to be with her other boypren. It was obvious she was having a blase attitude toward relationship, but the farang, still had to query, "Why didn't you tell me? I thought this means something to you too!"

Yes, yes..she loved him too but 'greng jai' forbids her to spill about the other boypren, you see? It will cause too much inconvenience.

Hence, every time I cannot understand a situation, I would now apply 'greng jai-ism', and I will understand, though not completely.

You can't really blame Papah when he philosophized, "Greng jai, my S!" Having to work with locals, he has experienced far more 'greng jai' moments than yours truly.

Imagine this scenario-

'A' has done some mistakes. Papah said to correct them. 'A' said OK.

The dateline is tomorrow. 'A' said no problem. She started to work, and even burnt the midnight oil.

The next morning, deng deng deng....

The report contained the same mistakes, if not more.

So what did she work on? Donchno.

What did she stay up late for? Donchno.

Did she know what she was supposed to correct? Donchno.

Then why didn't she ask? That we's 'greng jai!!!

So, isn't it apt to say 'greng jai, my ASS' at situation as such? You tell me...

Gooly got the blues

Yesterday morning, he awoke as usual, chirpy as can be. He helped me with some laundry, coloured some pictures and asked for permission for a video to watch.

"Roo's Springtime"....

It was a baaaaaaaad choice. Even though, he had probably watched it a gazillion times, for some weird reasons (which I will find out later), he started crying at the climax of the movie. The part where Rabbit, the problematic long-ear, refused to let Piglet, the homo, Tigger, the ADHD and Pooh, the sissy to have a party.


Anyways, I explained about the characteristics for each of them (not the problematic, ADHD, homo, sissy parts laa. Siau meh?). I said Rabbit is always grumpy and impatient and unpleasant. But what is more important is, it's a cartoon, it's supposed to be entertaining. If it upsets him so, no point watching, haimoe?

He seemed to have understood me.

Then, towards the end, the tears came again.

Sungguh emo, I tell you. But I just let him be, because I am also the sort to cry at the movies. (The last was X-men Part 3 on video, when Professor X died!) but I knew something else was bugging him. He just didn't know how to verbalize it.

I held him for a while and offered some gummies to cheer him up - something Professor Dumbledore would do to a distressed student. ; P While chewing, the tears were still streaming down.

"My dear Gooly, meh si jek? Why so blue? Is it Monday Blues?Tummy ache? Got sumsi?"

But he felt better after a while. Pocoyo put him in a lighter mood.

Kids get the blues also, eh? Strange...

Later, I brought up the topic again. Drilled and drilled and finally he told me, he missed papah. Papah was due for a business trip, and he had started missing him already.

My Gooly is so sentimental. Haiz..please handle with care.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Mr and Mrs Good/Bad

Gooly is very into drawing nowadays. Whenever we are at a restaurant, he asks for a pen and paper so he can doodle.

He draws the underwater scene - submarines, divers, sharks with gills, etc.

He draws airplanes which resemble a lump of Playdough.

And then there are clouds looking like caterpillars, the Sun with a happy smiley face, and so on.

Naturally, I'd say, "Very nice!" because he tries so hard. It's evident when his mouth protrudes in concentration. In extreme cases, his tongue is stuck out.

Not enough with compliments from a biased source, he would seek second opinion from Papah, the art critic whom, to your amazement, can come up with remarks as below:

"Where got rainbow black color one?"

"WHAT is that??"

"Why you conteng conteng?"

Creativity is clearly not in Papah's dictionary. While I am ready to 'ooh' and 'wow' Gooly's masterpieces, Papah is quite the opposite.

Not that I mind..Gooly should really take criticisms constructively. Or even better, ignore them completely. Either way, he is learning the mechanism of survival at an early age. We don't want to sugar coat everything, you see. Imagine if both parents are living in 'lalaland, pretending or worse, believing that everything the child draws deserve a place at the Lourve Museum.

Be realistic a bit lah, kan?

Anyways, museum-worthy or not, he should continue drawing if he likes that. For now, I teach him retorts such as, "You don't think it's nice? Well, I think it's nice." And he comes up with his own, "It's nice. TRUST ME!" And he still colours his rainbow in black. Phew! Am I glad he doesn't give two hoots about the rigid rudimentary of the seven rainbow colours.

It's 'S-kicking' when you have the guts to stick to originality.

I like this mean side of Papah, cos I get to be the good guy, telling Gooly, "It doesnt matter Papah doesn't like it cos I lurrrrve it. It's the best drawing!" *halo appearing*

Before you conclude that Papah is Mr. Mean of the family, he isn't lah. He is Mr. Good in the food department. He allows chips, ice creams, cakes, chocolates etc. despite my protests. He also gives the "no-nap" license to Gooly.

Hence when Papah is good, I play the baddie and vice versa.

A perfect balance in this lifetime partnership. Yum seng to the joy of parenting! *clink*

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Hoi Sum Kwai

The epitome of bliss. We can always find it in a child's laughter.

I love little children in dungarees. He carries a pen and a note book in his front pocket these days. Very handy to take orders and produce Picasso art-thrash.

Ahh..thats one happy mom, killing a whole Sunday morning at Thonglor where lil' cafes are abundant.

Another happy bloke, striking an awkward pose.

Ah.. this bloke on the right. Yep, he is the driver. :P

Hulloh, Mr Rainbow-eyed!

*On Marriage*
Version 1: I married a man who asks, "Nothing you like?" at the Beg Shop (beg, cos they always seem to beg me to buy them) eventhough he already knows I am not 'thousand-hand' Kwan Yin. I don't need that many bags. But I know if I said 'yes', he would whip out his wallet. Because I know that, I said, "No, nothing I fancy here." I like the equilibrium here. It's decorous.

Version 2: He asks, "Nothing you like?" because he knows I will say NO if he asked. But still, he's got guts to bet on that, right? So macho. A real risk-taker. I like.

*On parenting*
Version 1: I have a son who smiles and the whole world smiles with him. It matters to him if I am angry, sad, happy and glad. He cares, truly cares.

Version 2: My son is 8 (busybordee). My genes! My genes! Finally...

*On family*
My family is not as near as I want them to be but they miss me. I miss them. What's life without missing?

*On friends*
I have friends. Crazy ones. Smart ones. Charming, kind, evil (that's you!) - the whole motley crew, whom I can carry 'highly-intellectual' confusing conversations.I keep the cynical, diabolical, hypocritical ones a few thousand kms away. So I am good.

*On begs a.k.a bags*
All I am saying is, where are my thousand hands??!!

Is there anything else that I need in life at present?

I don't think so.

If I die today, will there be any regrets, remorse, feelings of emptiness? Tarak pon..

There is no 'oughta, shoulda, woulda'.

My exit sign says," I have been very happy and crappy. I'm leaving on a a jet plane. See you, suckerrrrs!"

Yep, I am gonna be one darn happy ghost.

Friday, May 1, 2009

Miss CON-geniality

If ever I joined Miss Universe, I think I could bag the Miss Congeniality award.

Alah.... if you knew me enough you would disregard 90% of my twaddle. So you should understand that I meant I would be Miss Congeniality if ever I joined Miss WORLD. I am not that perasan lah! :P

I have been told that I am approachable. So if you were sitting next to me, a beggar would most likely extend his/her hand toward me. To your benefit, a mugger might also think I am far more attractive than you.

They say it’s the way I pull my cheek muscles upwards all the time. Yeah I do smile a lot when I see another comrade. It’s called manners, nomeh? (despite the fact that chisinpohs are known to simper all the time, ok?)

The point is I am some-what magnetic. I do believe this source of power. It’s exactly the same kind of force that pulls me into bag boutiques all the time. I swear it’s not on my own volition that I enter these shops.

I have digressed.*rewind my train of thoughts and hit PLAY*

...I am magnetic. I do attract a motley collection of people. Very often they are nice, such as yourself *ahem*. Some are plain weird though…There was this Miss J who gave me her wedding ring because she was divorced and hated the sight of the ring. It was a diamond ring, mind you. She could have pawned it, sold it, threw it, donated it but she chose to give it to me. That spells W-E-I-R-D,doesn’t it? And duh, with voodoos and charms and black magic, anyone who reads Harry Potter would know not to take it, right?

And we weren’t exactly that close. Far from it. It’s like if a 5mm gap defines friendships, I would say ours range between 5 and 6 KM!!

Have I misled her leaving her to think we were the best of pals? I shouldn’t think so. I didn’t know she has a diamond ring to give away, to begin with. Hee hee.. No-lah, I meant, this misleading business is reserved for rich, old uncles, RIGHT? *nudge nudge wink wink*

And more recently, a new acquaintance upon finding out that our birthdays fall on the same month had announced she will get me a birthday present. I did what most Malaysian Chinese would do. I rubbed my hands with glee. I chanted, “No, no, no, no, please don’t!” She said, in her exact words, “ I likee you vellli moch..!”

So it looks like I have to get her birthday present in return. Tut!

I am not complaining. These are nice people. Warm, friendly but slightly overwhelming. Makes me uncomfortable. I am happier if you bought me two bunches of bananas :-P or a dinosaur book ;-), and that is also after 101 rendezvouses over atMSN and Facebook.

Thereinafter, diamond rings, handbags and such are welcome.

I should end today’s rambling with an unrelated quote from an unknown source, “The most beautiful thing you can give another human being is a genuine smile. Live your life by this motto and you will see wonderful results.”

Anjua? Can be beerrif-ed?

Cuba tengok. Mana tau the wonderful results come from Magnum, Paumah, Toto?

Hai jiau hoe lurrrrrr!


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