tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-245287732024-03-07T19:03:10.437+00:00The Malaysian Housewife In LondonThoughts and experiences of a housewife living far away from home.Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.comBlogger221125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-43590172504603235032011-08-19T09:46:00.000+01:002011-08-19T23:29:05.376+01:00Progress Report & Ramadhan Ramblings<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>Posted 2 days late...</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Already it is the 17th of Ramadhan and Mr S and I are starting to feel the lethargy that only people who have fasted for days and have not had enough sleep could feel.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">It's normally the middle of the fasting month that it gets bad for me; the early part being supported by the initial excitement of Ramadhan, and the thrill and rush to be on track reading the Quran, whilst towards the end, I get rejuvenated by the fact that Eid is near and Oh dear! What a lot of tidying, cooking and cleaning for me to do! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">So yes, right about now, I would and should be feeling sluggish, and truth be told, all I want to do right now is lie under my comfy duvet and just sleep! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">But because I AM a supermom *groaaaaan* - life goes on as usual...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Just want to update everyone ont the boys. They have been following their 'plan' albeit not according to the allocated times and progress hasbeen a bit slow because they're doing it mostly on their own without my constant supervision. And oh yes, the reading Quran after Subuh thing? The boys could hardly open their eyes during sahur and fajr prayers so reading Quran afterwards is completely out of the question! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>Takpelah</i>...at least they are reading and revising the Surahs they have memorized at the madrasah every morning. That is good enough, I think. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I have also added something else to their list of things to do. Bought this 'Learn To Speak French' thing for them a few months ago that comes with a CD and card game and I thought when else would be best for them to do it but now - during the school holidays? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewTbEqJvZfLxRt6V8Az2xNCzc8QiHsZ9LbYyTDgXPN_u61tf0yGVPxTK_FBK1Vvsq1wPc8mT7fKizqZtDFtwfjIKOgIhjZrP1KAgO-F9S5z4HhmIGNGDYXo8p9HwqvkOTDhH02Q/s400/IMAG0415.jpg" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">So yes, learning French is part of their daily routine now although as I mentioned above, progress is also a wee bit slow. But <i>Okay la..
<br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">Oh yes, Before I forget, Little H finished his jigsaw! Here's the finished product! </span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">
<br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZJ6EGW1eBBVmIRHkjJulngVP9HBch3RNA5GUBcl0VXEn-8ax8aPSowUkwEidvMI7d84sfEkXlCD8sA60xBzVgsC-JjxImNBNBU2b28DkaMXvohRJwTYYnp7bdZ7iVoDPZA7gjQg/s400/IMAG0417.jpg" /></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">
<br /></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">Well done Little H, who did 95% of it by himself with mama and Big H sometimes crowding behind him trying to get a few pieces in! Dunno what to do with it now...probably get a cheap frame somewhere and try to fit it in...:) </span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">
<br /></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">At least somebody has finished something so far!</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">As for moi, I am on track (sort of) alhamdulillah in my Quran readings and in between that and juggling Little N and the boys, I've also managed to well...let me see..Have I checked out any baju raya for myself? Nope! The children? Well, we got them a new pair of shoes each. No baju raya yet..my mum said she sent some for the boys <i>tapi tak sampai2 pun</i>...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">What else? Hmmm.......</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I think it's safe to say that I have made no preparation for Eid yet and this is normal for me, especially since I started living abroad. I think every year it's just, "<i>apa yang dah ada je lah</i>" and as usual, my attempts at <i>kuih raya</i> are always, well, to put it simply, <i>FAILURES!</i> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Nope, I've never been good at making raya cookies..</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">But still, it wouldn't be another raya without ANOTHER attempt at it so I was thinking that I should start looking at cookie recipes after I finish the Quran. However, at the rate I'm reading right now, I won't have any kuih raya this year at all!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Okay. So maybe I should start baking 1 or 2 soon. Next week, I think. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Will document it here, inshaAllah..</span></div><div>
<br /></div><div>
<br /></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-26308140259283872372011-07-28T12:05:00.017+01:002011-07-29T20:51:03.546+01:00Summer 2011 'Plan'<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Summer hols are here!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Unfortunately we're not going anywhere as it will be the fasting month soon. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">As usual when the kids are at home the whole day and night, that means Mama is 'working' the whole day and night!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">It's not even been 1 week and I'm already feeling tired! And Ramadhan is just around the corner too!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">For this long school break, I've had a little 'meeting' with my kids (my mother who is a retired school principle taught me how to have 'meetings' with children a long time ago!!) and we've decided what is to be done during the holidays.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">The list goes like this;</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Big H:</b> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">After sahur: Read the Quran </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">10am - 11am : Revise Juzu' Amma and Juzu' Tabaruk and Juzu' Qad Sami' </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">11am - 2pm: School work </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">2pm - 3pm: Memorize Asmaul Husna </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">9.30pm -10.30pm: Read novels</span> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Little H:</b> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">10am - 11am : Revise Juzu' Amma and Juzu' Tabaruk </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">11am -12pm: Finish the Maths workbooks and English workbooks he's had for ages but never finished </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">2pm - 3pm: Memorize Asma ul Husna </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Free time: Complete the 500 piece jigsaw puzzle </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">9.30pm -10.30pm: Read <b>big</b> novels </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ937BX_KX-LG3PrzrvvJSG0gbzOuaLS7WjyP5rWyyr7_KW9vCi1vi2dW-Xkdm6Th3kSoPMYOBCW6K-DTlL2Kr0rtU-edNJXsaYU2yv-BYc38vejooz5Fxl7RE3USsKUr4zmh_mQ/s400/IMG_0008.JPG" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Big H said he wanted to finish reading the whole Quran this Ramadhan. I told him that he needs to read at least 20 pages daily for that. He said he'll just try anyway..</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; ">"So at what time of the day do you want to read the Quran?" I asked. I wanted them to have a timetable and specific times to do all that they want to achieve so that it's more organised and more achievable for them - and also so that Mama can <i>chase</i> them if they're not doing it!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; ">"My Muallim said the Prophet said the best time to read the Quran is <i>after Subuh</i> so that's what I'm going to do."</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; ">"OK." I said encouragingly but <i>dalam hati: MashaAllah anakku...tapi iye ke kau boleh buat ni??</i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Little H specifically wants to read 'BIG' novels during these holidays. He had already declared to me previously that he 'prefers thick books rather than thin ones' and has already finished the 'BIG' novel that is Black Beauty just yesterday. :) Not that he hasn't been reading many thick novels already - he's already finished the whole of the Harry Potter series, mind - no other kids' books gets thicker than them! </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">So, okay..that's fine.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWIAjIYO1UUQfRAzvDhGU3bdFc5T-VljCA900uNKFUrGFV8JHnE9ng7RP6-fwWEkZPRRK8fOfClzoPfnPJvTRoUzZRycd_uDKai1uDXo9KqctR6APQwu6gjn-BRe8MDqnP-DhozQ/s400/IMAG0381.jpg" /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Both the boys love reading now, mashaAllah, although this wasn't the case last year. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; ">So how did I change them? I practically forced them to read books in the beginning - but to me there's no other way about it - I needed them to discover the pleasure that is READING and they needed to do that by reading on their own. I bought books that I thought would interest them, I took them to the library, I encouraged them to read comics i.e. Tintin initially to gain their interest. I set a time at night just for reading. I read with them at first because they like their Mama to read with them. And finally, finally it worked, thank God! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; ">After a few weeks of being 'forced' to read, Little H began to get immersed in his story books and later on Big H joined the fun too. Not that Big H didn't enjoy reading before that, mind. He loved reading but ONLY information books e.g. about football, sports, history books, Islamic books...funny, right?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">During these holidays I let them play a bit on their Wii after dinner until half past 9 by which the rule is to be on their beds reading their books until half past 10. During school days they have to do whatever work from school or normally, from madrasah (as schools here don't normally give homework except for the weekends) after dinner and then it's straight to books as well.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Fair, me thinks. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLa2a-8NEdskRqcJ6hhtMfsXkTgs6kEpxClLb4CgSccEnii9RNNxIge8IzjsAph-mpMfGFNrQoR2tFHz6hqwFVKhr3IqBzX3wvId3988rf5N3v8JixyNwcJNxqQeiPFyQ189fzjQ/s400/IMG_0005.JPG" /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Anyway, Little H has a new hobby now which is jigsaw. He's finished one 200 piece one recently and has asked for another one as a present for his good results. Mr S bought for him a 500 piece one - 'upping' the game so to speak - so all the free time he has, he's sitting at his desk trying to complete it! </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; ">Better jigsaw than sitting in front of the TV playing games and bickering with his brother every free time they have, right?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; ">So this is how I intend to have some 'control' over the kids' activities during the holidays. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; ">It's going to be tough, what with Ramadhan, the baby, breastfeeding and knowing me, my cravings to eat and cook this and that during the fasting month. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; ">Allahumma Yassir... </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; ">Hopefully I'll manage.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div><div></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-20587077757827723802011-07-22T22:13:00.014+01:002011-07-23T01:19:28.888+01:00Fun Day Accounting<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Last Thursday the boys' school held a 'Fun Day' - a day of fund raising for the school and for the parents' association, a day for making money and getting rid of unwanted and old stuff for some parents who came and set up stalls in the school compound, and a day of games and spending money for all the children and also parents who wanted to join the fun.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Back in Malaysia, from the the tender age of 7, school children were given pocket money to spend at the canteen during lunch time but over here, there's no where to do a spot of 'jual-beli' at school - you either have <b>'packed lunch'</b> i.e. have your lunch from your lunchpack/ lunchbox your mum packed for you from home, have<b> 'home dinners'</b> which means a parent/ carer would come and pick you up at lunch time to bring you home for lunch, or you were having <b>'school dinners'</b> which means your parents paid for you to have your lunch at the school dinner hall (in some cases, this could be free if the children's parents were getting benefits from the government - how cool is that?). </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Self explanatory, really. ;p</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Basically the children here would not be very exposed to using notes and coins, unless they do so outside of school.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">So of course, the boys were excited to be allowed to take some money to school on their Fun Day. Mr S didn't give them much - only £3.80 each, of which £1 is for a compulsory donation to the school. So they had only £2.80 to spend which was more than enough because I know that at the Fun Day, cakes/food and drinks would be sold at 10p or 20p each or at most 50p. (I told them not to buy anything else besides food and drinks.)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Since they were excited about spending money, I was excited too to know what they would buy for themselves. So, I instructed them to <span class="Apple-style-span">write down </span>what they had spent for the day, knowing from previous experience that sometimes they just misplace their coins and didn't spend much or in some cases, they actually did spend their coins, only they couldn't report back to Mama because their young minds have forgotten exactly what they spent on and how much the things had cost.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I told them before they went off to school, "Write exactly what you spent your money on and how much - write them down on a piece of paper at school before you forget, okay? Don't wait until you reach home to do it!"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">The moment I saw Little H running towards me from his classmates and friends when I came to pick them up after school, I knew he had listened earnestly to what I had said. He showed me 3 pencils and 2 rubbers which he had won in some of the games stalls - which, he said, he didn't have to pay anything to participate in - and he showed me that he had £1.04 left over in his pocket. He then began to tell me about his list of expenses which he had written down but said that he didn't want to show it to me first because he had some 'corrections' to do. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">"Alright." I said to Little H. "Well done, masyaAllah!"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Big H however admitted that he didn't do what I told him to do, which was really, typical of him. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">"It doesn't matter," I said to Big H, "You can write them down at home - try to remember what you bought - start from the beginning!" </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">"Okay.." he said slowly, obviously dismayed that he still HAD to do it!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">A little later, at home, this was what the boys showed me;</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ET4toNS6qaWcYiEpJ0P7NXh8PZkVFUN6-6s2_kmdylRXMVIAtfWxiI5UEfT_-4qmzbxbQgfZgGIt6CE48JXoI53nYAO8on8ClElsdME03XvJn-qRJeVoYPfdzvrPsI18GqLi2w/s400/IMG_3496.JPG" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Little H's Expenses for Fun Day</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyW9QWQalnzE7vhNtDGvgYgDYOcJeLh2a4Y3pIiF5Bz0S4j1GhE25hEBL03VdWKHX6n2w6ZalD-ZCFjia0jJ2IHGnzulf_Awgb4X0aMz5G_RsJ06Sllf3PPp-_WTYfjcuvZmjk3A/s400/IMG_3498.JPG" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Big H's expenses sheet which he did at home!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Little H's explanation of what transpired during the day was complex - he spent a lot of his money on food and drinks but there was also a lot of 'swapping' money - or giving away, really - <i>but my friend didn't have any money so I gave him some! - </i>and then somehow the person whom he gave the money to would also give him a certain amount back!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">But believe it or not, after all the trading and exchanging he did that day, what he wrote on paper and the amount he had left in his pocket <b>TALLIED</b>!! Which means he had written everything down correctly!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I was SO amazed!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Big H however, tried his best to remember what were his purchases for the day exactly but in the end, he had 50p unaccounted for. Hmm..<i>Tu la, Mama suruh buat terus kat sekolah takmau!</i></span></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Sigh. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">But guess what, that £1.04 Little H had in his pocket at the end of the day? £1 of it was actually generously given to him by none other than his own big brother, Big H! - "Go buy a lollypop", Big H had said! Aww..sweet isn't he?(Pun intended!) </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">All I can is, WELL DONE Little H for listening to Mama and for doing exactly as you've been told - you've been very responsible and you've paid attention to the details. Good job! A<i>da gaya boleh jadi CA like Mr S ni! ;p</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">And Big H, there's always a next time. (<i>Listen to Mama next time!!</i>)</span></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-60340912076183007732011-07-14T11:27:00.005+01:002011-07-15T00:09:11.078+01:00Results (And A Lesson Learnt)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJTVPfuz0oQ6plLqFwq4Lktep9CyLBPXAh0Cu3bI98Jkxn1aUucKx-3AMLH7PnjM77g0-0ByzbZxLIeMSkURwLWaY6S_pwLnVmTd9UzLSzJniWGeDINQ9OLYFxGsTK_bK6o0SRg/s1600/IMG_2934.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJTVPfuz0oQ6plLqFwq4Lktep9CyLBPXAh0Cu3bI98Jkxn1aUucKx-3AMLH7PnjM77g0-0ByzbZxLIeMSkURwLWaY6S_pwLnVmTd9UzLSzJniWGeDINQ9OLYFxGsTK_bK6o0SRg/s400/IMG_2934.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629164460681265090" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">Right, the boys have gotten their results. And I am happy to say that they have both performed really well this year, for both school and madrasah.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Alhamdulillah.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Both Little H and Big H achieved a level 'above what is expected of their age group' at school, which is beyond Level 3 for Little H and beyond Level 4 for Big H. For madrasah, Big H came 2nd in class whereas Little H came 1st! Poor Big H - he should have come first for the year because he got first in the first term but due to a little miscommunication/ misunderstanding on his part on what he was supposed to learn in his Supplications, he was short by a few points and the boy who got no 2 last term got no 1!!! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>Takpelah, takde rezeki...</i>I consider their achievements amazing. This is because the other boys in their classes are mostly of Arabic speaking nationalities and would have found their lessons - which is conducted mostly in Arabic - easy-peasy, when my boys know nought of the language! And yet...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Little H had been leading in terms of the marks from last term and from the daily reports he gave me during the exam week this term i.e. <i>semua asyik full marks aje</i>, we already expected him to come 1st in his class, MasyaAllah. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I think I should really thank Mr S this time. He was the one who has been hounding the kids to study, testing them at night weeks before the exam and testing them again the nights before the exams. Not to mention texting me on the phone from work to remind me to make sure the boys were studying during their holidays. Of course, that was exactly what I was doing anyway - making sure the boys were not just playing games during the day - but I do appreciate Mr S playing a bigger role in the kids' revision this time around, without me having to prompt him as usual! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Thanks Mr S. I know the boys may not understand now - they might complain and whine making things difficult for us everytime we ask them to study, but when they are older and wiser, inshaAllah they will remember our efforts and hopefully they will appreciate it and love us more for it. <i>Amiin..</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">*****</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Saying all that, I was really upset with Little H on the last day at the madrasah - which was also their end of year party and prize giving day. I was waiting outside the madrasah door to pick up the boys, waiting for the Muallim to call the boys for me when Little H and Big H both appeared at the door, carrying a big box each. They both got a big water gun each for their wonderful exam results, apparently. I smiled at them but instead of smiling from ear to ear, Little H had a grimace on his face, and whilst he was still within the Muallim's earshot (not to mention all the parents there who were also waiting for their kids) he said loudly, <span class="Apple-style-span"><b>"RUBBISH, RUBBISH, RUBBISH!"</b></span> - clearly indicating that he was talking about their prizes! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">For those of you who have been following this blog previously, you may know that Big H once received a <a href="http://hotkicimama.blogspot.com/2009/07/whosoever-sows-he-reaps.html" target="_blank">bike</a> for getting 1st in his madrasah class. The year after that, however, the boys did well once again but all they got was a large plastic bag filled with toys each. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">To be honest, I wasn't surprised that their prizes that second year were just toys because I know how much we paid for the boys' fees, and I can guess roughly how many children there are in the madrasah and I know how many teachers teach there. It's not difficult to estimate their profit and loss account - the madrasah doesn't earn very much - I wouldn't even be surprised if they are a registered charity. So Big H was very lucky that year when he got the bike - a generous and charitable person must have donated them to the madrasah for prize-giving day. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Thus really, the boys were fortunate to get anything at all from their madrasah for their hard work during the year. And for Little H to complain loudly like that...I was really embarrassed and of course, angry with him! I quickly told him off quietly, on the spot, telling him it's rude to complain about a gift someone has generously given to you but he wasn't really listening. I then asked the boys to walk quickly to the car, ignoring any more complaints from Little H (Big H wasn't complaining - he had his neutral face on, 'graciously' letting Little H do all the whining!) because there were dark rain clouds in the sky and it looked like it was going to pour any second and since I was carrying Little N, I was obviously concerned about getting caught in the rain. But then I heard Little H say, none too softly, still within earshot of some of the parents; "But this came from a Pound Shop*, Mama!"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">*(A Pound Shop is a shop that sells cheap things mostly for £1, here in the UK)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">THAT was when the dark clouds in <b><span class="Apple-style-span">ME </span></b>burst open! And do not doubt that there were thunder and lightning too! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">As expected, I gave the boys a long and harsh lecture in the car on the way home about being grateful and thankful for what one receives and not to be so arrogant and snobbish about receiving less expensive things. And of course, I told them that they're learning at the madrasah to be good muslims, for Allah's reward <i>later</i>, not for the prizes they might get at the end of the year!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Little H was very quiet after that and of course, he wasn't in a good mood for the whole evening. He is a smart kid and very eloquent and fluent for his age but that doesn't mean I'm going to let him off for the inappropriate things that might come out of his smart mouth. Saying that, a kid is a kid and he was disappointed with his prize - which he was so excited to receive in the first place, so me being me, I had to 'console' him by showing him and Big H how cool actually their new toys were - they were huge after all and the water jets would go as far as 12m (according to the writing on the box) - <i>you certainly would enjoy shooting at each other in the summer!, </i>I told them. Thank God, that brightened Little H up a bit. And I reminded them that their Papa</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> had promised them a present each for their good results so hopefully both of them will feel well rewarded for their hard work for the year when they receive them. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Sigh. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">ALL that aside, masyaAllah, alhamdulillah, I am thankful to Allah for the boys' good achievements again this year. Hopefully both of them will work hard to keep it up - Mama will always pray for your success in this life and the hereafter, InshaAllah. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>A little note to my boys:</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>Growing up is never easy, boys, and it's NOT just about getting good results. There are many things to learn in life and yet life is short. All I can say to you right now is work hard, be good, pray hard and be humble always and in the end just try your best. </i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>InshaAllah, Allah will grant you your prayers. </i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>Amin, inshaAllah.</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-12060795810610487372011-07-06T19:51:00.006+01:002011-07-06T21:29:23.178+01:00At 9 Months<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Little N knows when she's had enough of her food...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMDzpQMD5t6X4fOVQywdlOK5j_Bx_GkY6KJIUZvO_J2l2_nhKMOvwuyrgJqm814iTySC4HhjwMDXyqP4Tx99qFV251J3ZkQ4yO3Zd7RrL44rcK8kHMXWRT_uYfA278Gm0jTpvW4A/s400/IMG_3446.JPG" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">The mouth says it all. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Priceless.</span></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-28557155836936333672011-07-04T11:49:00.020+01:002011-07-06T12:59:31.095+01:00Birthday Lunch<div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span">It was Big H's birthday yesterday, 3rd July.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">MasyaAllah he's TEN now! How time flies! If you've followed this blog before this, you'll know that I like to go to town and try to be creative (key word: TRY) with my kids' birthday cakes. Remember these..??</span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAoWXr__mD5u2WgQWy4CZ-LGnc_t73TkyqOMqfUuTdLei61YYRgKL97uSQmTdCE0T4tp0v1vPKEKsgUZlloScFjVxd1RZGdgH-LRLz4YPYRVqYqyCIrHk_j8TibYkqg-aeG8LIkQ/s400/IMG_1931.JPG" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Monster Cake</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVwrv8Q8BwlAIBM-LV6U7S5I9B0hnnCqP1KnzeoNCliiqBFu6FsRhPfeIdmzQqT_E0_SD2z6Lpu3mAdoPqiFwsz4vKhAWcAnx3psrWpjynJeTeZ_QfaAIVsFLCaNDoiPjEm2nwbg/s1600/IMG_1926.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVwrv8Q8BwlAIBM-LV6U7S5I9B0hnnCqP1KnzeoNCliiqBFu6FsRhPfeIdmzQqT_E0_SD2z6Lpu3mAdoPqiFwsz4vKhAWcAnx3psrWpjynJeTeZ_QfaAIVsFLCaNDoiPjEm2nwbg/s400/IMG_1926.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625739218594871106" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> Little H's 3rd birthday party</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0GcGmiklwNNDHidlu28AUZY565jg4aR9EN3RUaxPnddhijN3esipw_QsALJMW_8VkRKVNOr0wWNVOZLJOxsLOsSWGLujokGi7k0_IMvw3wUnDECITO-7NVzmFVh7dOeDWLVoZiA/s1600/n618489050_928416_5958.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0GcGmiklwNNDHidlu28AUZY565jg4aR9EN3RUaxPnddhijN3esipw_QsALJMW_8VkRKVNOr0wWNVOZLJOxsLOsSWGLujokGi7k0_IMvw3wUnDECITO-7NVzmFVh7dOeDWLVoZiA/s400/n618489050_928416_5958.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625738988823071138" /></a></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Big H's 7th birthday: Earth Cake</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJNVeW4FJGsdeAn2bnh_RsmngcH5OPBZwxOdyDSdyasoZ19g2m5c_1ppyqXBUVfsxLrCbKNfkyynKRdIUat_it_wC58uoIzkZcs67hoWRAX5Q6c8625PPrPaybNFhptpnjkYDlww/s400/DSC00503.JPG" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Spider Cake</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUXkBLo0kxMfUEn5tOxTW0hSVGR1oXumqJG_sDndoATXddDHYN7VenP-4YN_Yesn5e45F8AVV4Ry3se87ppnyxF405ty1bmLoAfxWUVU0ufkF3SMcYxDpDSi8q-sniyXBrWsUew/s1600/DSC00546.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUXkBLo0kxMfUEn5tOxTW0hSVGR1oXumqJG_sDndoATXddDHYN7VenP-4YN_Yesn5e45F8AVV4Ry3se87ppnyxF405ty1bmLoAfxWUVU0ufkF3SMcYxDpDSi8q-sniyXBrWsUew/s400/DSC00546.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625738984319501778" /></a></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Little H turned 4</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I feel amazed at <i>myself</i> every time I look at these pictures! What a lot of time and energy I had in those days! I have not been able to present my boys with any more of my ehem, err..'creations' since, well..I think it's been three years since I last iced a cake and used some of my creative juices to make the kids happy for their birthday! <i>Mak takde taim lah anak-anak semua..</i>. Look, look! This was the cake I made for Big H yesterday!! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6xm_iAZnbSdKM6GKq425co-V2GzbpWOAt19ddemTaJ4oV5CawixUW80zzVgmf1sMmyhFA8Z4ej_yHeS8QADAppLp404WN1H5E-mAEypEQqNOXNrwfrSzWqkt9sdcA541dJRT1yQ/s400/IMG_3403.JPG" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Yes, only those none too shiny silver balls to brighten up the pathetic thing! Thank goodness for the pretty candles Mr S bought to add some colour to it! Yet my boys loved it and was excited when they saw it! Poor boys..it's been a while since I did something special for your birthday cakes, I know boys...I've been working and then getting pregnant and now even though I'm at home all day, with baby N around I'm lucky to be able to get any time at all to put in any extra effort in the kitchen..<i>.Kesian anak2 mama...</i></span></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">But yesterday we did have a little gathering for Big H's birthday. I wanted it to be the usual quiet celebration at home with the family unit but Big H pleaded with me to invite some people over! Mr S and I relented and decided to invite the two Malaysian families living in our area <i>aje</i>, Kak A's family and I&H's family. We invited them for lunch.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT5lbvIQzsLjZmdCTIUI43Y-Cj_Ym9ZwwEKpbTKeS6MoJEDedr2a-G4SDJEsZO5ACUMnH5mO1gkV9XYRmhKBsjBFMLSLG6OtnxiGRl6M4WnkOqxDiR4JoLqBxir6hs3zmxq8k-UA/s400/IMG_3404.JPG" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">And what did I make? I wanted to cook the simplest and easiest food I could get away with! But the food had to be special and nice too, of course! So I decided to cook these:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ5h6dFBksCe6EeeNUVeubHqQN5vGoy6jszPqyA-aR8WRsDEvUF2qRXoj6GiIWScXhaONPfMZjyJERLz6808KJ98gbFo_9_Pxn4YilTmNh58EZm52QBaRGT1D5ZRZkwdl9DgvqJg/s400/IMG_3394.JPG" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Lemon couscous and and a simple lamb tagine, and some dishes I always cook and hence will have no problem with: lasagna and fried meehun! If you know your tagine and couscous, you'll know that they are hassle free dishes too! And f</span><span class="Apple-style-span">or dessert, on top of that sparkly birthday cake, I made a pudding with banana sauce from a recipe that I've been itching to try for some time...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">All in all it was a nice little get together, alhamdulillah. I'm glad that even with the baby and all I still managed to pull through this time - not without the help of darling Mr S and also of course, the boys! (with a little bit of nagging and screaming involved on my part - as usual!). </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I do really like to cook for people, I do! It gives me a certain kind of satisfaction to see people enjoying the food that I had slaved in the kitchen to make. I hope this is the start of more invitations to our house this year, God willing! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Next event inshaAllah will be Little N's first birthday! Can't wait! :)</span></div></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-78314119478622871822011-06-25T10:48:00.003+01:002011-06-27T00:24:22.025+01:00Olympic Ramblings<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIu14QoPi35i72uEwP_MB3fZ6rxULtgIxqsS1mO12E4sEuFbxJz1YufUw1F4dxNMUxY61Qkc2UU_Rdcg1imjnKYQfa3gUXf9HGPajLXfE-ys2r95SRC-8VtFL_KJCfKfwNxaO5Og/s1600/IMG_3388.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:centre; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIu14QoPi35i72uEwP_MB3fZ6rxULtgIxqsS1mO12E4sEuFbxJz1YufUw1F4dxNMUxY61Qkc2UU_Rdcg1imjnKYQfa3gUXf9HGPajLXfE-ys2r95SRC-8VtFL_KJCfKfwNxaO5Og/s400/IMG_3388.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622667315920520066" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>Olympic Basketball place - pic taken from behind some bars - how apt!</i></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">There has <span class="Apple-style-span">been a lot of traffic jams, roadworks, road closures, bridge closure, bus route changes and not to mention dust in my area for the past couple of years. That's because I live in Stratford, London - that's right, where the Olympics will be held next year. I live just a few minutes away from the Olympic Park. Put it this way, I open my front door and look right, I can see the Olympic Village at the end of my road.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">I remember when they first started the construction work on the site a few years back - Mr S would have to think many times before washing the car because just 1 day later, the car would be covered in a thick layer of yellow dust. And the dust would creep into our house too. Just a few hours after vacuuming and dusting, the floor would feel dusty, the dark mahogany of the piano would change into a murky lighter shade (okay, I'm exaggerating a bit here ;p) but truly, you could run your finger on the furniture just a few hours after wiping them with a damp cloth and already you would get some dust on your finger! (True Story!). Suffice to say, we had our share of hardships dealing with the huge construction project just a stone's throw away from our place. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">We suffered but we were also proud and excited to be so close to the action!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnVlTrnisXr4x_ixVsheP9kNtsYEm1mnynXEXc5DJBQ_lZwKXXxhM4gyTVMz0I-nPwr5c7095VTUPxamwJpC84tBpv3kAz3g4gH6_gdctyckHEwLFLHkWswxoDSVNy5yQsPrVvQ/s400/IMG_3387.JPG" /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The Velodrome - so near yet so far!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The boys were excited about watching the swimming events and diving events live and I wanted to watch a few of the hockey matches (having played hockey at school) and badminton, hoping to catch Malaysia in action. Mr S was more interested to watch the athletic events and we didn't want to miss the opening ceremony, did we? So, when the tickets were opened for 'registration', we registered for around £1k+ worth of tickets - confident that we would at least get 'some' if not all. <i><span class="Apple-style-span">In case you didn't know, due to the expected high demand for tickets and in a bid to be 'fair' to all, all UK residents who wanted to attend the events needed to 'register' online for the tickets they wanted to buy and a scheduled ballot would then determine which tickets you would get to purchase.</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">If we were successful in the ballot, we would know by means of our money would be taken out from our account on the 31st May 2011. Mr S checked his account on that date and unfortunately for us, no money was deducted - which means we didn't get any tickets at all, NOT EVEN ONE!! </span><span class="Apple-style-span">The result was baffling for many people and left many disappointed. For us though, it was doubly so</span><span class="Apple-style-span">, knowing that we live so near the Olympic Park, (after all we had to go through during its construction!) and reading in the papers that some people got ALL the tickets they registered for (for several events!) when many others like us, got none at all! </span><span class="Apple-style-span">There's definitely something very unfair about that 'fair' ballot system!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">It looks like we'll be watching the Olympic events from a TV screen after all. Maybe we should go back to Malaysia during the Olympics and watch from a TV screen in Seremban or Melaka. After all, a TV screen is a TV screen, no matter where you are it would be the same.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span">Damn that ballot system...</span></i></div><div></div><div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Or, wait, wait! Maybe I should just boycott the Olympics next year completely and just sulk...no, no, no..I should do my own 'Olympic race' instead! The events would coincide with our holy month, right? So why not I race my grandma/my mom who always khatam the Quran </span><span class="Apple-style-span">twice</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> during Ramadhan? Come to think of it, what a great</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> idea! </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span">And totally impossible to achieve.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Sigh. Anyway, one more Ramadhan to go before that one. Here's hoping that I'll be getting a medal for that race <i>this</i> coming Ramadhan, huh? </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Amin, InshaAllah.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: medium; "><br /></span></div><div></div></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-27967910460243618792011-06-22T12:58:00.010+01:002011-06-23T12:14:42.611+01:00A Little Update<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYjRCHRJ75SDS0v_Q7GYDQPxuovStlW5oJMt50vN8wZNUlOC_UE3eITHd7U13x-rZRpbsf13O21_cEXQSyVCmkulDCHy13aNPECMd-Z4i1PJCd1y_ifyVhh0aPARmlD31etGkFcg/s1600/IMG_3319.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYjRCHRJ75SDS0v_Q7GYDQPxuovStlW5oJMt50vN8wZNUlOC_UE3eITHd7U13x-rZRpbsf13O21_cEXQSyVCmkulDCHy13aNPECMd-Z4i1PJCd1y_ifyVhh0aPARmlD31etGkFcg/s400/IMG_3319.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621018275053965938" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" >Gawd...it's been ages since I last looked upon this blog of mine. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >So many things to write about, don't know where to start! I've been busy, of course. But really, I have to remind myself again and again that this blog is important for myself and family, to record our lives and our children's stories and developments - otherwise all the precious moments would just fade away from our memories and finally simply disappear! </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Baby N is already <span class="Apple-style-span"><b>9 mths </b></span>old now masyaAllah..her favourite food is rice+ fish+carrots+cauliflower cooked until soft and pressed through a sieve. She also loves yoghurt and cheese and likes some cheesy omelette for breakfast! She has yet to crawl but is slowly moving her body and feet now to move around and to get to where she wants. But there's nothing wrong with her talking abilities - she's a magpie through and through, always noisy, yap-yapping and babbling all the time! MasyaAllah. :)</span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >This week is an important week for the boys. It's their madrasah exam once again. Big H is already in class 5 now and Little H in class 4. Mr S is helping them with the memorising and he's been testing them with their surahs, hadeeths etc. when he comes back from work. Hopefully they will do well again this year inshaAllah..</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I have problems feeding Little H nowadays - he's such a picky eater! He's gone really thin now that we jokingly call him 'stick boy' sometimes. It's not funny, I know, he NEEDS to eat!! Mealtimes are stressful indeed!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Big H on the other hand has put on some weight. He eats a lot and requests for all types of cheesy food from his poor mum. He's not fat but he's rounder than before - I love to watch him eat!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Alright, this is all the time I have for now. InshaAllah will update with more stories soon!</span></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-46274295972334005022010-09-24T21:07:00.003+01:002010-09-24T21:20:34.149+01:00Presenting Little N!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8jCHHRcy_W-uU1ZIxBc5Jkkz9_UGbm9W_IIxfnOVR0m_2I4W5Fu8iTTVD64anJutBAPAM6CJdZts5npxFLn-u2usEmFeFHRWH5hU2YlQK6Vy30LyHB2LuBN_P3_fnHJE9HUD2OQ/s1600/IMG_0003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8jCHHRcy_W-uU1ZIxBc5Jkkz9_UGbm9W_IIxfnOVR0m_2I4W5Fu8iTTVD64anJutBAPAM6CJdZts5npxFLn-u2usEmFeFHRWH5hU2YlQK6Vy30LyHB2LuBN_P3_fnHJE9HUD2OQ/s400/IMG_0003.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520574725946976066" /></a><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Little N was born on the 13th of September in a London Hospital. The picture above was taken the next day, when her brothers came to visit. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Both Mama and Little N are currently at home and doing okay, alhamdulillah....</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-76239635570364856722010-07-04T10:06:00.002+01:002010-07-04T10:23:14.832+01:00Backyard Fruits<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZrQuWnsQaT4vWunmV2DVG8j_SAjTHOlWB-FSMVsUyWIhE4iHl0Npyv4ZVwCzELGP7bfSFkPGk1_-igv3hRxnRCCKkWjukAr4see2_7Sy7dGDZjjmey0nW4aCqy3TiaXJz83Y4w/s1600/P1020512.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZrQuWnsQaT4vWunmV2DVG8j_SAjTHOlWB-FSMVsUyWIhE4iHl0Npyv4ZVwCzELGP7bfSFkPGk1_-igv3hRxnRCCKkWjukAr4see2_7Sy7dGDZjjmey0nW4aCqy3TiaXJz83Y4w/s400/P1020512.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489976331354383858" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Just want to show off the cherries that we picked from the tree in our backyard. The tree is nothing to look at but the cherries are a different story altogether!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">We normally don't get to eat </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">any</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> of the cherries because the birds would always get to them first even before they are ripe. But somehow this year, there were only two birds who stubbornly kept an eye on the tree and came over for breakfast - as opposed to about 5-6 of those black feathered fiends with bright yellow beaks who would have their breakfast, lunch and dinner in our backyard.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">So here they are! </span></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhooY5jjzEQyUPw_2PZOA9vYY8lyLU1M0GN40HtaweL-nmnlmwB_ZD1EV2niAIsFH-hfhrq4pBItZwqyeAVS_rNfpkpAiTyQxJXyWe4kxuwlFwno-6KkT7t47uUBvyjpmlpLQ8l_w/s400/P1020510.JPG" /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">They are absolutely yummilicious and the flesh is thick and sweet - much, much better than the ones Mr S bought for me from the supermarket, I tell you! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">The landlord was the one who planted the tree. He did ask whether we enjoyed the fruits a few summers back to which we answered in surprise, <i>no..not at all..there were none left for us! </i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><i>Banyak pahala landlord dapat tahun ni ...:)</i></span></div><div><br /></div></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-15203932575007467572010-06-27T14:44:00.001+01:002010-06-27T20:30:46.665+01:00The Proof Is In The Graze...<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Remember when I used to be so worried about Big H because he didn't know how to play with his friends during their break time?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">He used to walk around by himself, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">not</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> feeling sorry for himself or anything like that - according to his teachers, his friends would always call to him to play with them but he always refused. It was either he didn't know how to join in or he simply preferred to play on his own. His Year 1 /Year 2 teacher was a little concerned as well because she said that playing with friends is part of learning and growing for children and he was missing out on that...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I remember I used to drive over to his school and sit in the car to spy on him during his playtime - but I always ended up feeling sad and sorry for my little boy - up to the point that I felt that there was no one I could turn to for help but for the Almighty! And so that's what I did! </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Doa, doa </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">doa</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> that he'll be better at making friends and playing with them! I know the issue may sound a little petty or trivial to many but it breaks my heart to see him playing by himself when his friends are laughing and playing together. I really wanted him to improve his socializing skills...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">But guess what? Big H has slowly, since the middle of last year started playing with his friends! He even has a 'best-friend' now! Admittedly, for a while it was only this friend *R* who <i>considered Big H to be his best friend</i> when Big H didn't want to have anything to do with him at all. In fact, Big H had complained to me in his very innocent way, " I don't know why *R* likes to follow me around!" To which I had answered, "Maybe it's because he likes you and wants to be your friend?" But I didn't need to persuade him too much because they soon became good friends and frankly, I was very, very relieved!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Now, Big H has other friends too - they all play together during play-time. At first it was simply some "made-up" games which when I was a kid was the best kind of games I ever played. But then slowly, Big H and *R* was called by other friends to play football. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">In the beginning Big H told me that *R* didn't like to play football (when Big H did) and *R* had walked away when Big H wanted to join the others in the game. But slowly, slowly, *R* also started playing football during playtime and even slide-tackled Big H one day and made him fall and graze his face! Oh dear!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I was a little bit concerned because Big H hardly comes home with any sort of playtime injuries - obviously for the reason that he has not been <i>playing </i>a lot, but to be honest, they really made me very happy!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">It was because the injuries were proof to me that he has been playing with friends at school and he was finally able to assimilate himself with the other children! *Phew!*</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAyutJuTUCGIRoHgnMsxZ9m_rl_Vn-ny7Ps4TnzXzAFzMNZbOxu0K3uYcNME7HoW-pHZWQwYLomFW9KDmaHaeOIyk-7j68gFf_5SL9QkjxB6_4JaxlABBYXoqfq5JFvafpq1gvzg/s400/P1020147.JPG" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Oh Big H, I'm so sorry about the scars that you have on your face now but I am also happy and glad that you have now finally 'grown' a bit and able to play with the other children and make friends....Mama is so proud of you!</span></div><div><br /></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-87307845864773876142010-04-09T17:16:00.008+01:002010-04-13T20:41:56.900+01:00A Yellow Belt for Little H<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">It's now the second week of the Easter Holidays for the kids, hence the reason why I've been a little too busy to dive into the blogosphere.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">But right now, the boys are at the madrasah, and Mr S had helped to cook dinner last night (cum the boys' lunch while we were both at work), so I think I'll make a quick entry about Little H's karate grading last few weekends specially for the family and grandparents back in Malaysia!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">After about a year wearing his white belt, Little H's </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">sensei</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> finally gave him the green light to take the grading to yellow belt. And boy, was Little H delighted!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Big H, Mr S and I helped him to practice at home for the grading - pointing out what he was doing 'wrong' or 'funny' and he took all our pointers in and alhamdulillah, did very well during the grading. (Big H didn't do his grading this time around because he just went up to his green a few months back.)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">There was 1 part during the sparing though, when Little H's partner had to do a face punch and Little H had to do his upper block when the Head Instructor had asked him to repeat his move - but in our opinion that was just because Little H's </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">sparing</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">partner</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> was well, to put it frankly, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">rubbish. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">I know, that's harsh, but it's true!</span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><i></i>Pity that little boy. It's really appalling to see some overly ambitious parents (particularly the parent of that little boy) </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">insist </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">that their child is ready for the grading when they have only attended the classes 5-6 times!</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I pity too the instructor who had to deal with the parents - we saw 2 separate cases when parents went to the sensei to insist that their child was ready to take the grading even when the sensei expressed to the contrary! <i>How kiasu of these parents! Kesian </i>the kids!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Anyway, here are some pix of Little H's karate grading. He had checked my blog a few weeks back and had asked why mama hasn't put up his karate grading pics in Mama's blog! Sorry darling, I've been busy <i>ye</i>...hopefully, I'm not </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b>too</b></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> late...here they are;</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJFWvPU84df_gM-ht8dtwjw2z19tf2sfkH-2diW3ndp0LdfRnskzuNadB9pacyPFIxJPUee0gVqMXnZUPWlA7W-sUq1TrHcnI3yzDvm7dZDLFh_F2_CcPbgl3e-vz4KhmPUaYqQ/s400/P1010752.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Little H ready to perform his kata.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiOolNabIsj3YjXMF48sjGWiWYE3OG_-OifilqCQn4AWNyPJjEANV5T6uNFYt6UOPjz3DAygKyfShyphenhyphenVRD4vBR_FsORGzLY-PqMiIcxfgHTDC9gXoO3q_MmLTFhSmjdw-3SOZleww/s400/P1010755.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Yay! Little H presented with his license book by one of the senseis </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">which states that he had passed his test! </span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xBszQ4BWpeJGezfzJjXeUyQw9u6K7wQH3_OP3vNeG1eseL7WSYQF8snBYxMktnav5UcHdefAwmeH7uQT_UTFJOl6dtuUNL-SfJBPy7H9DFLsz_ozLxWmEUEtv4pIK_1vpE2KbQ/s400/P1010722.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Little H proudly holding a certificate (actually that was Big H's - Little H's one wasn't ready yet!) for the photo op with all the other participants.</span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyxL1dgstccbPzpHQkmZ72gui38lvl7IC5IlPAkqoLhKqMBG-FBKpi-pKHuA_lzX2wx3z39P_GlXj8UcwRxsC6PkoJq3d2ubZ_uykxalfiTHqRcZ3cNxch5a_PWItInrdJWs_e-w/s400/P1010756.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Little H proudly holding his yellow belt. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Mr S bought Little H his yellow belt straight after the grading! </span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWbUEeoUaXaxBs6n6HFfD94fCb97awY22ahw1BN5cTnenTOCMcVtk82_AKilP0ugsmmQD69igYBeZvxBt8S99M3ouzT3hAX_Fdf-xpQsihRw6sGX-oCLgzLsH9YYQXXORk0hT7cA/s400/P1010758.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Big H with his Green Belt Certificate.</span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfCQXDAINEiXktHj5bn4jh92FSsIMcJQ1J4GTVVlpo3wQR1MR8A3pc-FWn9xaWrbE_l1x9tesoa4Weo57oaAmgBNhwu7Qr0vdiHFwn7BqxVyQSr5QS6ZfmsMskeYd1LiHeygmCHQ/s400/P1010767.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Little H still full of adrenaline at home - showing off in front of the camera!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-28967072852458192472010-03-26T09:49:00.015+00:002010-03-28T16:47:30.868+01:00I'm Not Your Friend!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyzCh3d9hDb5bca-stOJT2z6aWxM2A9aqTf32HfEokpDfxSugn8QsVWL2AmCZ9Ookzv5xf3acGgwgPsak0Bke77yA-1nEuwVskzOho3G4y-Oc5uEB1XL_dbyazla7LfNhPselLoQ/s1600/P1000476.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyzCh3d9hDb5bca-stOJT2z6aWxM2A9aqTf32HfEokpDfxSugn8QsVWL2AmCZ9Ookzv5xf3acGgwgPsak0Bke77yA-1nEuwVskzOho3G4y-Oc5uEB1XL_dbyazla7LfNhPselLoQ/s400/P1000476.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452900320754087538" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">"Why is Mama's body changing?" asked Little H to a bemused Mr S.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">"What do you mean?"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">"Well...her breasts used to be </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">down </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">here..</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">" he said, using both hands to indicate somewhere between his chest and tummy</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">(!!!), </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">"but <i>now</i>, it's up </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">here!</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">"- his hands now pointing some where between his collarbone and chest!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Obviously Mr S was laughing by this time. But Little H wasn't finished yet.."And her tummy is </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">fat</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">!"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Oh joy. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Ok, people. Time to come clean.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I haven't gotten a boob job like some of you may think. And neither have I been pigging out that I have grown a spare tyre around my middle. The fact is, I am actually, right now, as of today, thirteen weeks and 5 days pregnant!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Alhamdulillah.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">So you can understand why Little H has been harassing me with his moods of late. He cries at the slightest provocation from his brother and threatens us </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">all</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> with the all too frequently used; </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">"I'm not your friend!"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> every little chance he gets - so frequently that Mr S, the teaser, has even made up a little 'melody' for it. <i>Teruk</i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> Mr S!</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> And of course, it annoys Little H even more when everyone especially Big H roars with laughter at Mr S's teasing.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Cian dia.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">But that's really being unfair - Little H has been adorable too. He leaves his games and Legos from time to time to check on me in my room whenever I'm feeling a little bit down during my 1st trimester. He cheers me up with his cheeky smile and little stories which always start with, <i>"Mama, shall I tell you something..??"</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">And....he gives helpful comments when I try out clothes at the shop! Little H likes to follow me into the changing room to look at me trying on clothes that I want to buy. I remember when I was trying on some maternity jeans at a NEXT store, Little H comments were like these; "That looks <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">fabulous</span></i> on you Mama!" and "No, that looks funny." <span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">And in a shop when I was trying on a rain coat because spring is upon us now and I need a nice water resistant and hooded piece, Little H decided to announce loudly, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><b>"Mama, when you wear this coat you don't look fat </b></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><b>anymore</b></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><b>!"</b></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Well, that was it then! Of course I </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b>had</b></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> to buy that coat. It's just </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">wrong</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">not to when my loudest critic has given his blessing!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Oh well, I guess we all know where Little H's mood swings are coming from. Soon inshaAllah, he won't be the baby in the family anymore and he knows it. Mr S says he's using up all his 'baby credits' quickly now because really, he has always been the more 'matured' and 'sensible' one between my two boys...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">So t</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">akpelah...</span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-27608299667046814962010-03-18T09:12:00.008+00:002010-03-18T14:25:34.093+00:00At the Tracks<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">The boys had a wonderful weekend last week.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Earlier in the week, we received an invite to a birthday party of a friend's son to be held on Saturday. But that wasn't what that had excited the boys - parties are pretty commonplace these days and in my opinion, birthday gatherings here are more fun for the parents really who get a chance to catch up with friends and eat some nice Malaysian food while the kids play together or do activities with the entertainers.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">What was different and exciting for the boys this time though was the treat that my friend, the father of the birthday boy, had generously organised for about 10 kids between the ages 6-8 </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">before</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> the party. They were to get a chance to do some indoor go-karting! So boys being boys of course they were over the moon about the whole thing!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Due to unexpected heavy traffic that morning, we arrived quite late to the venue but not to worry, all the children were divided into two groups to take turns on the track anyway, so Big H and Little H were put into the second group and were not disappointed!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6Bxof_xJc8HCCk9yWfuDznkQp9z2IvmkMMdHlor0tdbLbT2zftLxiCeBZ-J7t26h0j20I4gX1ABasoeVYmlVk7uIlbhsod2mpieCoPiI-WwNROViUbycPcAX5WKhDxLmdN7IVw/s400/P1010617.JPG" /></span></div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Big H looked nervous while waiting for his turn to have a go.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMXUr1YQ28mr6-JaFIsPw-liXV51lX0epDeNnKNcZqnIKrw5jmIs3k5jrILQUtDjrt1yjfdl_wa_jLd7AWT7blkQuBWBnKVr9RHrQe0Vcwwl_FRW1EBSerPL_L5bUFzu9qqwqLvg/s400/P1010540.JPG" /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">A short briefing on how to drive the kart - all the other kids had their briefing in a special room but because we were late, the boys had to have a quick lesson just beside the track! The <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">red</span></b> pedal is for stopping, the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CC00;"><b>green</b></span> is for moving. No problem!</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihbUHDj97kFI1BRfs2EDIiusn-a2WMG8WG9FECGSuHZTnOTu07fI3IHWrzy9JWElWbQVSSV_ZKnXXZtZEAE_fiBaTS52dAeRudrBxlqaQwxda-SGSvYegzAl6F6Na3CLuFccf6AA/s400/P1010546.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Getting helmets that best fit them. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Of course, Big H had to get a slightly bigger-sized one!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmSaoipWlyE5XlYQdK3CV6ENw5PprfuGMlaRYassEDdGldobV9ZWvvALKYHed9Ro5-XGItV3f_oj39sB6OA6lAj42imINZW3vTHsSlSInQYk5gkXr_Sajld9UVqOwWspnh5bCQBw/s400/P1010549.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Looking pretty cool and all ready to rev up the engines!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6BsVsJXATGwJt4NtvZrcyTX2I0R9fLxMc5QoFtvghn0u3jPpdnSkb44iO7TgxpOUoPoJmKClWv-FC1uiL4SKyuCfbj7CBES9fDA3zY43LPkdWJMozoJu8hXDj2n38Cc6hyphenhyphenz1ZA/s400/P1010551.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Our turn next. Tak sabar...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBuy8W5jo54xOKjuGQ0uF80dgjNccGPAmN0_Gj7Tuc8JELTS-nZOYnzstGeO1qdYkAE6-gPSHm1BqJkGHliXWWdNc2GVZkVmNiUkoXJ4oIBsryjnYOi6fK3GVWqVfktxerkXe7A/s400/P1010591.JPG" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Finally! It's the boys' turn!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGt8UDGLnP7CI8IGoT8DmWcmOrcgRyYez1lxvwBlE-IKDQ0NY6UPoQEKrLC8gUnpmEF9RA6nLog1RgmL5pPTLiWFMPR90Nc2OVovfUqn-CIrXU7qpKs4rbCK7MKr2hHeFLHDMTKw/s400/P1010563.JPG" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Big H. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">He was fast but careful - took over other drivers </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">whenever he could but was careful around the corners.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-DVrXjKpw31FGWI7mp8oaEVcrWOabR9QjZs_t-9PP-zbVx6zlxfOFNh7EzM1Mwff_u1eYO3GY4HizD_Hx-mnVzPu-XWPEajUbKOtgalbnFUsVYR_8JOkv3vqYg60svHo6Djcu5A/s400/P1010600.JPG" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Little H however didn't know the meanings of 'break' or 'corner'! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">He just <i>flew</i> around the bends and quite a few times rammed </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">himself into those red and white tyres!!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPr_z72sFhm3pMnkqnRMfz-3AWz3RYRpmgZO4fc7Br8obOru9VeG4VRtcIoyErSDBfldri4MoYdQZQabq0U6LOzde2vjeO9SkhbYl7W6kwLx2qvocirDtvKq8yWLuzhil9eib4Fw/s400/P1010632.JPG" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">After 1 hour of fun, 15 + 15 mins for each group, everyone received 'certificates' and the birthday boy got a medal. And we had a photo op at the podium - of course, nearly everyone wanted to stand at the centre of it! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirK2AKBS3356o0_xZtgdTPYj3-Vivq8Eyd62lxYsSL6ClsvhheqgTYwjm5lwuPFb4IBIAaHiLdBK6UmFlKF_j8exlB3JwxB8Rf5fmz2JdL3DYYh2q0SeZEEXCTu81A0QurcaIA7A/s400/P1010636.JPG" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">After that at our friend's place for the actual party, after the food </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">it was back to the 'usual' activity.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXGgPUkAo7JhgoQ866YeFcQicwh89j4RYwm-xyXY75THLb6t-Fqz4OcqA1zQVXyRecragMJwY6UTt2Wk4tVWHKCa_oBK77VryBf91C-BWxxYQ9pM04vDYmR-9JvoedRV0Rq1_vqg/s400/P1010655.JPG" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">The boys even had a round of Guitar Hero with some other children at the party, playing to Deep Purple's Smoke On the Water and Joan Jett's I Love Rock & Roll!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Overall, Big H and Little H really had a good time. They had so much fun actually that they were talking about their go kart experience even the next day, laughing loudly at their own driving and 'accidents' while watching the videos Mr S took of them going around the track.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">A bundle of thanks to <i>Uncle Shamsul </i>for all the fun. If the track is somewhere nearer to us I really don't mind bringing them to it often for something to do during the weekends but unfortunately it's quite far away. Oh well, it was good experience for the kids anyway and who knows, they might be able to persuade Mr S to drive them all the way there for a few more rounds during the school holidays.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-36964161533880824612010-03-11T11:55:00.008+00:002010-03-11T12:21:59.484+00:00Back to Business As Usual?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYzAy8kTM5nlOYQSpS-wFbWhWuQuXo3koPbQSHci75viLP8BR-yrAy-A8sVxOHH_Scc26JpsMxL79IauOi_HGTzWzZGy_KLCMD9tIhqU-6rKJNA0f2bW_pWbNBGNxDHHBCboFaAw/s1600-h/P1000641.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYzAy8kTM5nlOYQSpS-wFbWhWuQuXo3koPbQSHci75viLP8BR-yrAy-A8sVxOHH_Scc26JpsMxL79IauOi_HGTzWzZGy_KLCMD9tIhqU-6rKJNA0f2bW_pWbNBGNxDHHBCboFaAw/s400/P1000641.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447349685120809634" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Salam everyone!</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><div style="text-align: justify;">Am so sorry that I have not been updating - am feeling a little bit regretful about it actually.</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">*Sigh*</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Even when I was busy or unwell, I really should have updated my blog...because now, during all that time that I have been silent - a lot of what had happened will be 'forgotten' especially, especially about the kids. And they grow up really fast, that I tend to forget that every day with them is really, really precious - and that I should really write everything down so that I will always remember and I can cherish every moment! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">(Wish I was in a reality show like those Kardashians where a cameraman would follow us around and record every minute of our lives - and edit out the bad parts too! LOL!)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But I hope from now on, I would be more persevering in updating this blog. It has been tiring these last few months and to be honest - I really couldn't spare the time to even visit this blog and any one of my friends' but I will, try my best to keep this blog active from now on.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">God willing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">**Pic is of the boys hogging the pc - as usual! One of my excuses for not updating this blog!**</span></div></span></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-46432618468507210532009-08-23T11:13:00.004+01:002009-08-23T22:42:05.186+01:00Inadequate<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhinu3E5tajEUgRMRlxfurYEs5BL3BhnWCZ_pYPIDc3yAnhoA0t548O0sz4u0rIzAgisRGjAYVVs10PogX03zpxcuIxKXOJtY8lAdd538RNh5d415f1SiOerq6aYs7XwL2r4QAQ/s1600-h/090527_053738.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhinu3E5tajEUgRMRlxfurYEs5BL3BhnWCZ_pYPIDc3yAnhoA0t548O0sz4u0rIzAgisRGjAYVVs10PogX03zpxcuIxKXOJtY8lAdd538RNh5d415f1SiOerq6aYs7XwL2r4QAQ/s400/090527_053738.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373277033503173250" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"You need to be super quick," Mr S said. </span><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />It was because we were due to meet up with the group for a tour around the important mosques and sites of Madinah. I had nodded - I had about 1 hour before the time we were supposed to meet up with our guide at the lobby of the hotel - I was confident I could make it.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />And so I walked with Mr S and the boys - they were going to send me halfway and just wait for me outside the mosque, in front of the men's entrance, as I wont be long. I waved to them once and walked briskly towards the women's entrance of the Masjid Nabawi, towards the back of the mosque.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />I was nervous.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I was within the vicinity of Rasulullah SAW and I felt small and unworthy. I am not qualified to kiss the soles of His feet and I felt inadequate - even to ziarah his Tomb.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />But I have to ziarah no matter what my feelings were because it would be </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >rude</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> and </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >inappropriate</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> not to if you are in Madinah.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />There were no rows and rows of people seated or standing in prayer lines in the mosque as was the norm during solat times. There were some women praying but I could probably count them with my hands - mostly there were small groups of women walking about, all either going towards the Maqam area or coming from it. And there were the Indonesian cleaners too, busy mopping, vacuuming, wiping, cleaning - I can imagine what a huge task they have to do daily or even hourly as the mosque is never empty.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />Once I entered the mosque, I had to walk from the women's entrance at the rear end of the mosque back towards the front of the mosque where the Maqam is situated. Of course, this time I get to do it without squinting at the brilliance of the sun and instead, my eyes had to adjust in the cool and dim areas of the fully air conditioned interior of the mosque.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I walked fast - the clock was ticking - I was wearing my stockings and really, I was </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >sliding</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> on the cool marble floors where the carpets were rolled up for the morning mopping.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And then, suddenly, I was stopped by a dark skinned female guard in burqa. </span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br /><br />"Indonesia?"</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> she asked me.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />"Malaysia." I answered.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />"Sana ibu.." she said, pointing towards a group of South East Asian women, all sitting down together, some praying, some reading the Quran. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I walked towards the women and sat down beside a young woman. I was a little confused. The last time (about 16-17 years ago) I visited the Maqam of the Prophet (pbuh) during the women's visiting hours, when the door opened, it was open season and the women simply, well, </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >charged</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. There was no segregation of countries, no organisation whatsoever.<br /><br />I looked around and saw that there were several other female guards holding placards with the names of countries; India/ Pakistan, Iran, Malaysia/ Indonesia and some of the guards were even giving talks in various languages to the groups of women, all seated according to their country of origin.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I didn't need to be a genius to figure out the system - we were only allowed to enter in groups according to country and each group will have to wait for their turn to get in.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />Bother!<br /><br />I glanced at my clock - 40 minutes before our rendezvous with the guide.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">30 minutes.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />20 minutes and I was still waiting.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />At that time, looking at the peaceful looking women who were patiently waiting, praying and reading the Quran around me - I thought I would gladly take the pushing and shoving to get in the </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Raudah</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> any day - especially </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >today</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> when I don't have the time to be patiently waiting.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I calculated; it took about 5 minutes to reach the entrance from where Mr S and the boys were waiting. Another 5 minutes to walk across to the front of the mosque to the Maqam. And it will take 5 minutes to walk back to the hotel. So I needed about 20 minutes in all as I had to go up to our room once we reach the hotel to get my bag.<br /><br />Sigh.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I said my salam anyway to the Prophet from afar, got up and walked carefully over and around the women in the group, careful not to step on anyone and quickly made my way out. </span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As I slid across the cool floor once again towards the back of the mosque, I thought, maybe Allah has decided that I was inadequate to visit His Prophet after all....<br /><br />But I did not give up and tried again the next day...<br /><br /><br />To Be Continued.<br /><br /><br /></span></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-91331185621558303292009-07-16T14:08:00.010+01:002009-07-17T13:21:57.380+01:00Whosoever Sows, He Reaps<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Cfx7ztb7y_VASFi098BOrBUsU_OaLiY9OM2Tjtd7yrHXCjyxEv8mCDlmPpcYkz9Zev-a_dCdTLMCPhs5k4SxkSzPqZNkPfHCwrh3tccLSKNRsQf7oRzm6gf5c1GeUB59Id3gEQ/s1600-h/090514_163009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Cfx7ztb7y_VASFi098BOrBUsU_OaLiY9OM2Tjtd7yrHXCjyxEv8mCDlmPpcYkz9Zev-a_dCdTLMCPhs5k4SxkSzPqZNkPfHCwrh3tccLSKNRsQf7oRzm6gf5c1GeUB59Id3gEQ/s400/090514_163009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359068670296494178" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">The boys standing in front of their madrasah building.</span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For readers who have followed me since <span style="font-style: italic;">forever</span>, you may remember that I took Big H out of the <a href="http://hotkicimama.blogspot.com/2008/01/madrasah-misfortune.html" target="_"blank"">madrasah</a> that had a teacher who was not very good with children and had actually <span style="font-style: italic;">hit the children </span>if they didn't read correctly<span style="font-style: italic;">.</span></span><a><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Poor Big H was one of the victims of that teacher's impatience. He was so traumatised by his experience at that madrasah that he refused to attend the classes and in the end I had to pull him out from them even though we've paid the fees in full.<br /><br />I decided to enrol him into another madrasah last September, </span></a><a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">one that was a bit further away from our house but was highly recommended by some friends.</span></a><a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> I have been teaching both the boys at home but I haven't given up on the idea of a formal Islamic education for my children. Big H had rejected the idea at first but I gently persuaded him and somehow, he had relented. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Anyway, this time Big H wasn't alone - Little H was old enough to join the classes and many of their school friends also go to the same madrasah so I think he had really enjoyed the classes from the beginning - <span style="font-style: italic;">sebab ada kawan</span>. Even now, when the madrasah is taking a long break for the summer holidays, both Big H and Little H keep on asking - when will they be going back to madrasah??</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />And mashaAllah..it has been good. The boys just...<span style="font-style: italic;">fell in love </span>with the Quran. They recite the surah by themselves and help each other before they go to bed! Little H said, "Mama, I can't stop thinking about the Quran!" Imagine that? And I know he really meant what he said.<br /><br />I've been told by the other mums who send their boys to the same place that most of the teachers (muallim) who teach in the madrasah have been teaching there for a long time. I'm not sure if this is true but they are indeed very good at what they do - the kids learn really fast - they can memorize the long surahs without much difficulty and the muallim(s) are teachers who seem to naturally like children (in fact, they are truly amazing with the children!). The muallims are Algerians </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I think</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> and according to the mums who speak Arabic, the Arabic Language of the teachers is </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >refined </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" > tak kasar</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> and this is what they're teaching the children.</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" > </span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />Alhamdulillah.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(FYI, besides Arabic, the children also memorize the Quran, starting from Juzu' Amma, of course and they learn Hadeeths, Fiqh, Tauhid as well. The teachers speak English and Arabic in class.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7xprNloooGaf0lzTUrLKAlAKZbofZsqtActwIoNIAvKeVJUS0xhF6S6RWVFVsfrgO9ShX0Z5dOS1gvVZkmU_wxECHetTgxh74HKT55carxShKF2dWt-cpjDqsCdT2elUFXC79ig/s1600-h/DSC04501.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7xprNloooGaf0lzTUrLKAlAKZbofZsqtActwIoNIAvKeVJUS0xhF6S6RWVFVsfrgO9ShX0Z5dOS1gvVZkmU_wxECHetTgxh74HKT55carxShKF2dWt-cpjDqsCdT2elUFXC79ig/s400/DSC04501.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359068659179836002" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Little H got a remote control tank that can climb up walls for getting number 4 in class :)<br />Pic was taken with Big H's bike while he was still on the camping trip.</span><br /></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />Last Friday was their prize and cert giving day.<br /><br />Parents were asked to bring food to the madrasah and everyone was so generous. I saw a dad bring 5 big boxes of cream cakes, a mum with SIX types of dishes and someone also brought in briyani! Samosas and kebabs were aplenty, of course! I myself made <span style="font-size:78%;">1 bowl</span> of tiramisu topped with <span style="font-size:180%;">lotsa</span> juicy strawberries - I think the presentation made up for the fact that I only brought ONE thing (I hope!) although sadly, at the end of the event, when I asked for my bowl back, I found that it was still pristine and uneaten because the muallims had put the bowl in the fridge and had forgotten all about it!!<br /><br />Actually, when the muallim opened the fridge, I saw other dishes in the fridge that were still untouched as well - there were too much food brought in by the parents! Too bad I had to take my plate back, if I had made the tiramisu in a disposable bowl then maybe the teachers could have eaten it later on...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >(But no matter, I had sedekah the tiramisu to a Malaysian family anyway after that since that was my intention in the first place - sedekah!)</span><br /><br />To top it all up this year at the prize giving event, the madrasah gave boys who got number 1, 2, 3 </span>in their classes <span style="font-size:100%;">bikes </span>for prizes. <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >BIKES!<br /><br /></span><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBQV-iLZSlKv9M1C9TEDBt0umhuf2u-TUS76v89fvdBWS2X8oWQ8EEuh59YCv6cXrEq11tm4MfLBMA-fQSKiO26Klmti-hEUBBsxgFeDT23M6UKv2521o-LiErwQ2gnPBuZeKc8Q/s1600-h/DSC04509.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBQV-iLZSlKv9M1C9TEDBt0umhuf2u-TUS76v89fvdBWS2X8oWQ8EEuh59YCv6cXrEq11tm4MfLBMA-fQSKiO26Klmti-hEUBBsxgFeDT23M6UKv2521o-LiErwQ2gnPBuZeKc8Q/s400/DSC04509.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359068663489555010" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Big H was happy to see the bike but he wanted to see his result slip first before riding it!<br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />There were 6 classes in all I think, so all those kids who got the bikes went home happily wheeling their new bikes. I wasn't surprised when on the board, I saw Big H's result. He got number one during the first term and from the way he recites his Quran, (carefully and without mistakes) I was expecting about the same...yup, Big H got number 1 again. Little H, who was in a different class than Big H but nevertheless were amongst children who were 1-2 years older than him got number 4, which to me was so amazing considering his competition <span style="font-style: italic;">(and mostly depa ni anak2 arab pun..).</span><br /><br /><br />At first, I didn't know about the bikes so I was surprised to see the teacher wheeling a bike towards me that I was a little speechless - but my shocked expression no doubt turned into a wide grin when he told me about the prize. Big H was actually <span style="font-style: italic;">absent</span> from the event - he was away at a scout's campsite near Southend, enjoying himself on a camping trip with his classmates on that day - so Mama had to do the 'wheeling home' instead!<br /><br />Mr S and I already decided to give the children the thing that they've been begging us for for a while now - a Nintendo DS each - if they do well in their madrasah exams. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We had already bought them actually, without waiting for the results, together with some games to start them off with and had carefully hidden them in Mr S's clothes cupboard in the master bedroom.<br /><br />Mr S and I knew that the boys have worked hard for their exams and will probably do well (we thought kalau Little H tak dapat no 1 pun takpe because he's only 5 anyway and he's worked hard for his exams too) but what we wanted </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">to do was to instill in</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> the boys that if they do well in their madrasah that it's a <span style="font-weight: bold;">BIG THING</span>, something to be really proud of. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And we needed them to understand the fact that their religious education is very, very important.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />Hence the 'big prize'.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Little did we know that the madrasah itself would be giving away even better prizes to encourage the children!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What an incentive for them to do well, huh?<br /><br />Just wonderful. Simply wonderful.<br /></span>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-17091500824746419542009-06-12T11:20:00.008+01:002009-06-15T16:05:29.109+01:00First Solat<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilKIj2xzeOmKiIlP0jtSPic__deORWNemobst0s40kdbFqUT06GgBApcbZYglogrvu56oqUeSbeg-yUPmgihu6dwywYsIAntdJZGQnmdJSuI2h4yr_V070BHqMTFxHaZQcZpZ39g/s1600-h/DSC03936.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346384131946079922" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 300px; height: 400px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilKIj2xzeOmKiIlP0jtSPic__deORWNemobst0s40kdbFqUT06GgBApcbZYglogrvu56oqUeSbeg-yUPmgihu6dwywYsIAntdJZGQnmdJSuI2h4yr_V070BHqMTFxHaZQcZpZ39g/s400/DSC03936.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >The man who greeted us at the airport was polite and well spoken.<br /><br />He was a tall Arab man with dark skin and he was wearing the traditional red/white arab head dress with the <em>agal</em> on his head. He directed us to our fully air conditioned bus where the children and I climbed straight inside to escape the heat while Mr S made sure the bags were safely deposited in the luggage compartment underneath the bus.<br /><br />And then slowly, all the other people in our group climbed in. As you might have guessed, a group of Muslims from London would comprise of people from many nationalities. There were Indians, Pakistanis, Iranians, Afghans and Egyptians. There were actually four other families travelling with children, and from that only three families were with young children. One particular family had five young children </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >with them</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > but they also brought along their grandmother </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">- I can't imagine what a challenge the journey would have been for the parents if they had to handle all their kids by themselves! </span> <span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">The first thing that our guide - who said his name was Sheikh Al Abbasiy - informed us about was the prayer times. He said, in the way teachers like to prompt their students, "After all, we all came here to......?"</span> <span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">And like good students the people in my group answered, "PRAY..!"</span> <span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">At that moment, I blew out a long breath of air. I thought, "That's right. This is it. We are here to pray." I looked at the children and prayed that they were up to it and everything would be fine.</span><br />A few weeks back, at home, Little H had asked me, "Can we bring Wii to Saudi Arabia?"<br /><br />Mr S and I had looked at each other and we both had shaken our heads simultaneously. "Nope."<br /><br />"We are going there to solat ye," I said, "not to stay at the hotel to play Wii..."<br /><br />And surprisingly, there were no groans nor complaints in response. And I had stressed to them many, many times;<br /><br />"In Mekah and Madinah, we must go to the Masjid to solat, ok?" </span><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"OK!"<br /><br />"Five times a day, ok?" </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"OK!"<br /><br />And I had gone through with them other things as well to prepare them for the trip. I had drawn roughly the maps of Saudi Arabia a few times to show them our journey on paper, drawn the Kaabah and Masjidil Haram to show them the actions for Umrah, taught them the dos and don'ts of the ihram, the talbiah and the niat for umrah.<br /><br />I'm proud to say both Little H and Big H memorized them all, mashaAllah. Kids! They are like sponges that absorb anything... it is really up to us to provide the good things for them to learn. </span></div><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">******</span></p><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We were kinda late to go for our first solat at the Masjidin Nabawi. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The wait at the hotel lobby for our room cards took a good thirty minutes and we had about 20 minutes before the Zuhur prayers started.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After rushing the kids and then ourselves to wash, do our ablutions and change, Mr S and I took the children in hand and walked to the mosque in the blinding heat of the sun. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was really, <em>really</em> burning hot. There was wind, but it felt like wind coming from a furnace and it did nothing to relieve us. </span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The nearest gate to our hotel, which was less than 5 minutes walk away was the gate next to Jannatul Baqee, where Saidatina Aishah r.a. Saidina Uthman Al Affan r.a. and numerous companions and family of the Prophet SAW were buried. All the shops were closing for the Zuhur prayers, everyone was walking towards the mosque in a brisk pace and we joined them - all walking in a straight line for the <em>Central of Madinah</em>. </span></p><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346384983404517010" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 300px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrQC-Nik4MxEqO1R2DqoNYUdVWS9nonNAyC8EJHH7NMLrln_2eh6k2GRgZ3uDDIIS02x2QVe18HEtqCb0LB6OIazGGUOPb42EDtpT_qJsSINiRbjdvzvr8LXqBzBq1HRdVNrtqNw/s400/DSC03913.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The boys followed Mr S - simply because the men's entrances were numerous and directly in front of the gate - so the boys didn't have to walk with me in the heat. I wasn't certain of where the women's entrance was because I still haven't gotten my bearings but I followed the train of black robed throng of women walking slowly beside the mosque. I found that I had to walk <em>all the way</em> to the back area of the mosque, in the heat, around all that yellow tape surrounding certain areas outside the mosque (that made the walk longer than it should be, of course), to enter. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was a challenge indeed but I walked fast, slipping through slow moving crowds where I can, determined not to be too late. It was easy when you're walking all by yourself without your kids in tow - it was like I was a single young woman again, free to do whatever I want, without any responsibilities, at least for half an hour of solat time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The few women entrances were blocked by people standing to be let through by the strict <em>women guards</em> of the mosque, clad all in black jubahs and niqabs. Handbags were opened and checked on entry - handphones were not allowed so I slipped my small Motorola underneath <em>my bra strap</em> just below my left shoulder beforehand. <em>Phones are vital in Mekah and Madinah in my opinion - it's the only way you can meet up back again with your family or friends in the mass of people - especially in Mekah.</em></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I stepped into Masjidin Nabawi and felt the air conditioning and marble flooring cooling me down even though it was packed. Stepping in between lines of people already in their prayer lines, moving quickly in front of some who are praying before the start of the Zuhur prayers, I made my way further in, further in front of the prayer lines to find a good spot. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">About three minutes later, I found an empty spot near to the 'walkway' across the middle of the prayer lines, near to the front but not near enough that I got to pray on the carpet. I realised that I was late - solat was going to start in a just a few minutes - so I faced the fact that this first time, I could not pray in the first few safs.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">And then I heard the beautiful sound of the Iqamah. All the women around me started to stand up to correct the lines, Qurans were sent to the shelves, some empty spots were filled, little children were put down and handbags were put safely right in front of their owners. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The Bilal called out 'Sauf! Sauf!' a</span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">nd then, the prayer started. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I raised my hands in Takbiratul Ihram following the Imam to start my prayers and out of nowhere, tears started to flow down my cheeks like a perpetual stream.</span><br /></p>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-55127368509858212462009-06-10T10:27:00.015+01:002009-06-10T12:16:06.479+01:00Intention<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><em>It's funny that while we were having a light dinner at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Heathrow</span>, and I was looking around while chewing on the warm toasted cheesy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">panini</span> Mr S bought for me with my left hand around the tall cup of hot latte I had ordered, the people <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">I noticed</span> , from the many, many people walking about, eating and drinking, all waiting for their flight there were the people who were also going on the same flight with me. One in particular was the teenage girl who was sitting on the tables and chairs reserved for the opposite cafe, eating a foot long sandwich. Her hair was ample, long, dark and curly, her face fair and beautiful and she had an air of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">well</span>..."I AM RICH" about her. She was sitting opposite a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">similarly haired</span> figure in front of her whom later I realised was her brother. She was tall and thin and was wearing a skimpy Burberry miniskirt and she was socialising with the other teenagers on the plane right next to Mr S's seat across the aisle. There were quite a few of them all looking bored and clad in designer clothes and bags. At first I thought they were children of British expats going to visit their parents in Saudi Arabia for the half term holidays. But then, I heard them talking together in English - with a foreign accent... </em></span></span><br /><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc33cc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc33cc;">Oh..they were actually sons and daughters of rich Arabs who send their children to boarding schools in England..</span></em><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><em><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Well, at least at the airport in Jeddah they would know how to speak Arabic and won't feel a bit lost..like I did the moment we stepped onto the hot and arid desert land...</span></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc33cc;"></span></em><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It's not easy when you wanna go to a non English speaking country all by yourself. You feel a bit lost at times - especially at the airports where the workers there just shut you out when foreign words come out of your mouth and when other local travellers take advantage of you just because you look different. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I did feel a bit lost at the airport in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Jeddah</span> because of the differences in language, culture and system although I have to say, the workers there do understand a bit of English and we managed to check in our luggage for the domestic flight without any problem. But still, when you're travelling with kids, you feel a little bit more anxious than normal although Allah knows the kids themselves don't feel anything at all - only excitement.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We, as the parents are the ones who worry.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">That is the reason why I had in the beginning wanted to treat our trip to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Mekah</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Madinah</span> as a 'holiday' for the children. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was because of my worries.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I worried that they wouldn't feel comfortable in the heat, they wouldn't like the crowd in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Masjidil</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Haram</span>, that they would be too tired to go to the mosque all the time and I worried that they wouldn't be able to benefit from the trip. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But most of all, I worried that <em>because</em> <em>we</em> had to look after them, Mr S and myself wouldn't be able to benefit as well. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And that would be the <em>ultimate disappointment.</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But even more than anything, I wanted so very much for Mr S to benefit from the trip. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So that left me. <span style="font-size:100%;">I decided <span style="font-size:180%;"><strong><em>I</em></strong> </span>will have to be the one</span> who will have to let go and sacrifice my time and extra <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">ibadat</span> there - for the children. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Crazy, I know. But that's just my demented way of thinking. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In order to quit myself from worrying, I made myself think this; "No...this will be just a holiday for the children..and I will not expect too much of them and I myself will not expect to get a lot from this trip." </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There! Easy! </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So, it will be a sort of holiday for the children and I, no more.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But that was when my mother told me in a telephone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">conversation</span>, <em>"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Jangan</span>....<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">perbetulkan</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">niat</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">kau</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">tu</span>...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">pergi</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">ni</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">nak</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">beribadat</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">bukan</span> holiday. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Niat</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">mesti</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">betulkan</span>."</em></span><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></em><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And then Allah gave me some 'time' to think. It wasn't easy...but somehow, I just learnt to let go of my worries. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I corrected my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">niat</span>: <em>no matter what happens, I want this trip to benefit all of us. We will all prepare for it and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">doa</span> for the best.</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And then I left it to Allah.</span>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-34804134393122654562009-06-05T10:40:00.004+01:002009-06-05T11:41:45.156+01:00A Different Experience<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The road to Mekah will never be easy for many people.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But then again, some people just loooovvveeee to ask for trouble - like yours truly.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The moment the words </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">"</span>it's just a HOLIDAY...</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">" came out from my mouth, a dormant chicken pox virus in my body decided to reactivate itself and I started to get </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >shingles</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Yes my dear readers, </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >SHINGLES</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">! The painful rash along the nerves that normally only people above 60 get!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You can call me silly, imaginative or maybe even 'superstitious' all you want but I believe, the moment Allah SWT sends an invitation to you to go to Mekah, you must set one thing straight - your </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >NIAT</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> (intention).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">No doubt, when I was talking about our Umrah trip and said the word 'holiday' to my mother in a telephone conversation, it was in one breath with the word </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >children</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> i.e. what I actually said was, "It's just a holiday ~ for the children". But still, I do believe now that the word should not be uttered or even come to one's mind when going to Mekah....seriously.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Saying that, I also do feel that Allah wanted to cleanse me a bit before going there...you can say anything you want but these things happen...<span style="font-style: italic;">dugaan (test)</span>, some people may call it.<br /><br />To me, I just think that Allah SWT pitied me and wanted me to reorientate my bearings, before going to His House - to have some focus, you know.....so that I will fully use all the time I have there. So that my time there will not go to waste.<br /><br />So I had about 7-10 days to re-orientate myself, while suffering from shingles.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> And I thank Allah for it.<br /><br />I have been to Mekah before, but at the time I was 17 years old and although it was a wonderful and exhilarating experience then, travelling with arwah ayah, my mother and my younger sisters, I was young, and saw everything with young eyes.<br /><br />It's different this time around.<br /><br />The whole experience was different and new. Not just because I was going again <span style="font-style: italic;">after nearly</span> 17 years later - there are so many changes there, I can tell you that! - but also this time around, I'm travelling with my husband and my children who are my responsibility unlike the last time when I was more or less a 'free agent', being able to go to Masjidil Haram at 2 am without anything to stop me.<br /><br />But it's also because we were travelling from the west this time around. Not from Malaysia with other Malaysians in our group, and Malaysian food served during lunch and dinner and tea and breakfast. This time around we were travelling with Indians, Pakistanis, Afghans, Iranians, some of them with British passports, some of them Immigrants.<br /><br />The whole experience was <span style="font-style: italic;">different</span>.<br /><br />Will write more about my journey soon, inshaAllah.<br /></span>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-47560825201729374832009-05-08T10:15:00.009+01:002009-05-08T16:18:51.603+01:00Forgot!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In a telephone conversation between Mr S and I today:<br /><br />"Pa..bukan semalam kita punya anniversary ke?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Pause</span> </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >"Eh... ah-ah la..."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Kih-kih kih....camna lah boleh lupa pulak..."</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >"Aku dah ingat dah Monday..ingat nak beli card....tapi terlupa..."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Tu lah kau..apa lah..."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >"Eleh....kau tu yang tak pernah ingat..aku setiap tahun ingat.."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Aku ada excuse...aku tak kerja dah lama..so tak aware sangat dates-dates ni....tahun ni baru aku <span style="font-style: italic;">ter</span> aware sikit...ni yang aku teringat ni...<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">pause</span>...laaa..<span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;" >patut la semalam aku masak lasagne!</span>" </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(I made lasagne yesterday after like 2 years of leaving the dish out of my menu..and Mr S had <span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">FOUR</span></span> helpings of it!)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >"Kih kih kih...Tak apa lah...hujung minggu ni aku belanja kau makan<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1177969/Fast-food-chain-KFC-converts-London-restaurants-halal-menu.html" target="_blank">KFC halal.</a>"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Okay."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >"Bye."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Bye."<br /><br /><br />How pathetic was that?<br /><br /></span>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-74144570056621592512009-05-06T21:34:00.003+01:002009-05-07T11:31:27.619+01:00The Blood Test<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:180%;">NUMBER 83!</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>That's me!<br /></em><br />I rushed into the little room where the male <em>phlebotomist </em>sat by the table, calmly writing down something on a piece of paper.<br /><br />My doctor had asked me to get a blood test - for the gastric pains that I have...just in case I have ulcer...</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-style: italic;">or something like that...<br /></span><br />I wasn't expecting a blood test for gastric pains so I didn't come prepared. I was hoping to get that lady phlebotomist sitting on the opposite side of the large room...I had my little fleece sweater on - I hesitated a while because no way he was going to get to the upper part of my arm while I'm still wearing this thing..<br /><br />The thing was...underneath the sweater I was wearing an even tinier little white top....pretty indecent for other people's eyes, not that my boobs would be spilling out of them once I take off my sweater but...I'm not used to showing off anything more than the skin on my face and hands...<br /><br />So...camno?<br /><br />I looked at the man again..he was writing something on my form...he looked like a <em>mat saleh</em>..although as I gave him a second glance, I changed my mind - maybe European kot....<br /><br /><em>OK lah..what to do...my sweater had to come off.</em><br /><br />After struggling to appear modest even as I bend and twist myself out of my sweater, I waited for a few seconds, before asking him, well, to cover my awkwardness really, and you know...just to make some conversation...<br /><br />"You're going to do it <em>here, </em>right?" I said, confidently, pointing at the upper part of my Michele Obama - NOT!- like arm.<br /><br />He glanced to where I was pointing at and smiled, <em>kindly</em>.<br /><br />"No..that's where they give <em>immunisations.</em> I draw blood <em>here</em>," he said, pointing his finger at the crook of my arm - the part where <span style="font-style: italic;">normal people</span> would have exposed easily by folding a bit of their sleeve without having to take off any piece of their clothing....<br /><br />"Ohhh!!!!" I said a little sheepishly, a lot embarrassed.<br /><br />My face felt hot as I awkwardly put on my sweater again. But as usual, when I feel embarrassed, my smile gets even wider - until you can see all the way to my brownish coloured molars (courtesy of the antibiotics administered to me when I was small - cost me a whole lifetime of sepia tinted smiles).<br /><br />But...s'okay.....no harm done what...this man doesn't care...he's mat salleh WHAT..........<br /><br />The man kept his eyes down, his hand busy writing on the form...<em>it sure takes a long time to fill up that form,</em> I thought.<br /><br />But maybe he was kind enough to give me some time to compose myself...after taking my clothes off in front of him for no reason...<br /><br />The man was finally done with the form. He took out a long needle. Now it was his turn to make conversation - presumably to calm me enough for him to do his job.<br /><br />"So are you from Malaysia, SISTER?"<br /><br />Damn.<br /><br />The term 'sister' obviously means that he's a muslim. And the fact that he's heard of Malaysia... </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Sah.<br /><br /><em>Malunya aku.</em><br /><br />Somehow it wouldn't be too bad if he was a non muslim...the fact that he <em>knew</em> that I felt exposed made me feel even more so. Me and my modesty...and I ended up with the worst case scenario.<br /><br />My face felt warm again and my molars flashed dully.</span>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-57427097020861295212009-03-26T09:39:00.006+00:002009-03-26T11:55:30.306+00:00Just Delaying My Chores...<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">An observation since I've started to go into Central London a few times a week for nearly 2 months now:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Ramai mamat cina suka pakai cermin mata macam aku pakai and depa semua suka pakai bag sandang LV. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >kuang kuang kuang<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Yup. Believe it or not I've seen quite a few of these around in London. Is it a trend with these folks?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Well....it was just an observation....just wondering if anyone out there has spotted these guys walking around...:)<br /><br />Anyway, four and half years of not working and I was recently painfully reminded of why I used to hate going to work.<br /><br />BOSSES<br /><br />Let me describe one that I have (ehem) recently...met...<br /><br />emotional.takes out stress on staff.annoying.absolutely incompetent when it comes to financial management.actress.bitches about staff in front of other staff.makes empty promises.annoying.always talks highly of her/himself.annoying.blardy damn annoying.<br /><br />Sound familiar to you?<br /><br />I guess that's because apparently all bosses have these traits (a conclusion I made after talking to some other friends who are unfortunately working)....<br /><br />Well...that's not being fair and you and I both know that but I'm just going to leave that sentence there anyway...(just to blow off some steam here, people - just let me be!)<br /><br />Enough of that.<br /><br />Another little observation: Rich people don't know how to raise their kids. Apparently.<br /><br />Isn't it such a cliché<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> though?? <span style="font-style: italic;">Alah anak orang kaya....memanglah perangai macam tu..<br /><br /></span>But I've seen it again and again! And I'm asking myself why must it be that way? Some of the parents are really good, intelligent and hard working people and yet...<br /><br />If ill behaved and immoral kids come with the package - I'd rather not have all that money.<br /><br />Honestly.<br /><br />Sorry guys...this blog entry will definitely fall under '<span style="font-style: italic;">Ramblings'</span> - just had to let it out somewhere..<br /><br />And another thing...<br /><br />What's up with everyone talking about brands nowadays..??? This brand, that brand, I want to buy this brand, oohh..I'm saving to buy that brand...<br /><br />And in these dark days of the economic depression too...<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I don't know...brands just don't do it for me. Tried them once or twice but they just don't give me a high.<br /><br />Nope.<br /><br />And then I watched this on Youtube (saw it first linked from littlemuffins' blog):<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tyoVRBXSxJM" target="_blank">Watch</a><br /><br />And it strengthened my feelings on the matter....<br /><br />And if there's a trend going on out there..well, I'm happy to be left out of it.<br /><br />What I want to say to the people out there is: think. don't just follow.<br /><br />Hey..But that's just me.<br /><br />Enough rambling for now.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-13426157223882051042009-03-06T10:05:00.007+00:002009-03-06T11:42:00.049+00:00What have I been up to..??<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I've been busy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You know how I've been contemplating work for a few months now? It's because my kids have been schooling full time since September and from 9am to 3pm I've been free.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But I've always treasured my time at home. So when Mr S told me that maybe I should work part time to fill my 'unproductive' time and to get some extra money - I was not really persuaded. Okay..I did some applications but nothing really came out of them...perhaps because of the fact that I was half hearted in filling out those forms.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And then suddenly the pound fell.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The economy of the whole world has not been doing too good for a while now. If all the currencies fell, then we would probably still be fine. The problem is though, the dollar and ringgit have been pretty stable when the pound has been falling.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And that means....more money to send home to pay for all our hutang piutang...and less money to spend here...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Mr S has been doing a brave job of shouldering all these responsibilities but after looking at our family's financial statements - <span style="font-style: italic;">believe you me, Mr S the Chartered Accountant makes a monthly financial statement for the family!! </span>- I decided, it's time I lend him a hand.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So, I told him <span style="font-style: italic;">grudgingly</span>; </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Fine! I will look for a job!!</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" > </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But for once after the 4 years that I've not been working, I was serious. But what a time to look for a job, huh? All these lay offs and highest rate of unemployment in this country and <span style="font-weight: bold;">I've decided to WORK??</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But Mr S was optimistic. Browsed a few sites, and forwarded to me via email some interesting part time jobs he found. I applied. Got a rejection for one and a reply on the same day to come for a 'meeting'. Went. And got a job!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Just like that.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Alhmadulillah.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So yes...I've been busy. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And <span style="font-style: italic;">damn blardy</span> tired. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The first few days, my whole body ached and I complained and complained 'until the cows come home' - <span style="font-style: italic;">berlakon sikit la</span>...</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >saja</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> nak make Mr S feel guilty that I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">'forced</span>' to work..kih kih kih..But he will just encourage me by saying, </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >"Come on Kapten Hoki!!"</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> and really made me want to </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">kick something. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But believe you me, I'm not such a weakling. I am really a tough cookie inside <span style="font-style: italic;">(betul lah!!)</span> although I like to act weak for the benefit of Mr S <span style="font-style: italic;">(kuang kuang kuang)</span>.... My job is part time and it's only a few hours a day and just 3 days a week but <span style="font-style: italic;">penatnya Ya Allah</span>....I guess it was only expected after 4 years of staying home. The daily routine of cooking and cleaning, taking care of the kids and sending them to Madrasah everyday, making sure they eat, shower etc etc is still in the list of my duties of course...</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >tu yang penat tu...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But after just 1 month of starting work, I somehow feel energised. Don't know why.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now, I walk to the tube station instead of taking the bus and I walk back home too. For one, I get to save on bus fare (£2) and for another...</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >my tummy macam semakin kempis la semenjak jalan ni</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">....so I must be doing something right <span style="font-style: italic;">ye tak</span>?! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And I don't feel tired much anymore...still have a lot of energy to send the kids and 'layan' them at night before they go to bed. I treasure the days that I don't go to work of course (Thursdays and Fridays) during which I always just lepak and read a book and clean the house.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What can I say? Besides 'Thank you Allah!' for His blessing on me and my family, that is...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So my dear readers... that's what I've been doing...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">On my next entry, mayhaps I will tell you about my work place which is pretty interesting because I actually do the book keeping and financial admin stuff for a <span style="font-size:130%;">CLINIC!</span> And the clinic is in a posh area smack in the middle of Central London so you can imagine.....<span style="font-style: italic;">interesting!! </span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Nanti lah</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> I will tell you more when I have the time. </span>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24528773.post-21414344503434664852009-02-02T10:38:00.004+00:002009-02-02T11:03:49.544+00:00Whiteout!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It's been snowing in London since last night and it's still snowing now. Here's some pics for our folks at home...</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpb_WwakPKGfPxtQ635dVXD6TyXkf874meZqIZHI8R3P84A2n_DLazGcD5JIUIc1zjC8EieDQWT9l8ZxY72sL6-qu3X-_tg5W_9EbztSrfFn0155ePjyAqo1hdf8yRHlYeDlcItg/s1600-h/DSC03519.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpb_WwakPKGfPxtQ635dVXD6TyXkf874meZqIZHI8R3P84A2n_DLazGcD5JIUIc1zjC8EieDQWT9l8ZxY72sL6-qu3X-_tg5W_9EbztSrfFn0155ePjyAqo1hdf8yRHlYeDlcItg/s400/DSC03519.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298150149905383570" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We went to the small park near our house.</span><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vtmCzYqKBOPl15TwSTZ4WFHxVLUnR4CAX8p0KYipbXPB_jBQNwslHmO2zr3dIInzMy_VcfK47DltbQ9kPjhoPj7aoTmnaSzwhMkHrhReM9OLYwpyX7BZbdZTw7Ir91fAJ5M9bQ/s1600-h/DSC03526.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vtmCzYqKBOPl15TwSTZ4WFHxVLUnR4CAX8p0KYipbXPB_jBQNwslHmO2zr3dIInzMy_VcfK47DltbQ9kPjhoPj7aoTmnaSzwhMkHrhReM9OLYwpyX7BZbdZTw7Ir91fAJ5M9bQ/s400/DSC03526.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298150140964194674" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Little H's words early in the morning when he woke up: "This is the best day of my life!"</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">(hehe..he can be a little dramatic sometimes..)</span><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFgwtjNHYyR8KolIK0E6n-Yi7Yoqj_rInmKA0G-SsXogsEqNsWdwha0dwiPCMtnUzDBjBIokH17rouR8RlF0CGiLPotSualx8slQCSiWsx8URSiJ3R-GEu2q0vmDSbjBzWphhwAQ/s1600-h/DSC03521.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFgwtjNHYyR8KolIK0E6n-Yi7Yoqj_rInmKA0G-SsXogsEqNsWdwha0dwiPCMtnUzDBjBIokH17rouR8RlF0CGiLPotSualx8slQCSiWsx8URSiJ3R-GEu2q0vmDSbjBzWphhwAQ/s400/DSC03521.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298150141591533602" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The first thing Big H did when we reached there...</span><br /></div>Halwafyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08725306034296345008noreply@blogger.com6