Pausing again

I woke up in the early hours of the morning to the sound of  rain, falling in soft susurration.  Slowly, I stepped to the window, peeking to confirm that it was showering by looking at the light shining from the street lamp.  The refreshing and ever-familiar smell of rain reaffirmed that it was indeed raining.  MasyaAllah!

I smiled and spent a few minutes gazing into the darkness.  All my worries and concerns were absorbed into the refreshing night.  Quickly, I hurried to take my ablution, and then, to meet my soul Creator, the Most Generous, Most Forgiving and Most Exalted.  

And so I reflected.

Every year, I fall into the delusion that that particular year was the most challenging in bringing up the children.  Last year, for instance, was an indescribable year: physically, financially, mentally and emotionally trying.  This year, however, is a different episode as the twins go off to university, after Little D settled in his school just like my Princess.  The nest will soon be empty! 

Interestingly, year in, year out, Allah tests me and I still fail miserably.  The reaction, upon every single trial, is often of concern and worry.  The realistic, logical and scientific me still think a + b = c.  All theories and lessons learnt regarding the concept of Tawakkul is often forgotten.  

Thus,  moments such as this, where I get to let go and entrust Him with the whole predicament, are most invaluable.  Imagine, the only way for Him to get my attention, a little bit of my time and a wee bit more submission is when He tests me.  Utterly shameful and revolting. 

Despite all these, I know I hold that special position within Him because He never ever fails to grant my du'aas. Every single one of them.   

Recently, when I shared my current worries with my very good spiritual friend who I consider among the biggest blessing Allah has granted me, she cautioned me not to worry.  Nonchalantly, I responded by laughing out loud and exclaimed, "Don't worry? How is that possible?"

She then said something which pierced right through my guts, "Because Allah swt is taking care of you."

Silence.



Allahu-Akbar.

Tears trickled down my cheeks and I knew that she was right.  Forgive me, my Lord.

"O my Lord! let my entry be by the Gate of Truth and Honor and likewise my exit by the Gate of Truth and Honor; and grant me from Thy Presence an authority to aid (me)."
Surah Isra (17) verse 80.

Another opportunity to help

Having a child (no matter what number it may be!) is an experience any normal parent would be joyful for.  To watch a sleeping baby, to let it grasp your finger, to slowly pat its back waiting for the big burp, to cheer as it is able to turn, sit and finally walk are all the delights of child raising. Each milestone is applauded as it rewards you a sense of happiness only another parent can understand.  

Yet there are people who begin to get puzzled when their children (normally around the age of 2) show slow development and/or strange behaviours, compared to other children.  The most common disturbing symptoms of all are the lack of eye contact and the inability to socialize.  When friends, parents and relatives are consulted, they often brush it off as 'normal' and recommend giving it a little bit more time. Surely, a very healthy child who, in most cases, seem bright too, just has minor problems with socialising? Unfortunately, even GPs sometimes fail to recognise these slight symptoms and dismiss them as entirely normal. 

Not many parents therefore take the extra mile to read and do more research on the possibilities of their child's strange or peculiar behaviour.  Call it parental instinct, but some do find the issue intriguing and insist that they get to the bottom of the matter.  That was how Ezlika felt when her second child, Imaan, was still crawling when children of his age had begun to walk.  Imaan finally walked at 18 months.  After a series of check-ups he was later diagnosed as autistic.

Ezlika and Adam are both PhD students at the University of Warwick.  Being academicians, they have researched the topic of autism and are trying their best to help their son.  Their thorough research has also brought them to the discovery of the Son-Rise programme which is perhaps the only programme which believes that autism can be cured!


I know that there are so many opinions out there.  In fact, some condone attempts to 'cure' autism as they believe that the act is often against the child's will and nature.  However, a parent should not be discouraged to believe that his/her child can develop and be as independent as any other individual.   With proper techniques, why not? I am fascinated at their approach and am merely sharing this piece of information for parents who may be looking for something for their autistic child.

Four months into the programme, Imaan (4) has developed his vocabulary from merely nothing to 100+.  He can now utter several complete sentences.  However, the programme which requires a lot of one-to-one tutoring and facilitating is rather expensive (click here for detailed costs).  One way of dealing with this is by employing volunteers who will be trained by Adam and Ezlika to help facilitate Imaan.  You can visit their blog here and watch the video sessions with one of  Imaan's facilitators.  In other words, it is vital that funds need to be raised.  That is why Ezlika's sister, Ezura (Eju) is running a marathon in Wimbledon this Sunday (17th October 2010).  I have just been informed how much Eju has raised so far and I felt an anchor weighing my heart down.  

Last Wednesday, in less than 24 hours, friends managed to gather unwanted things and set up a stall at the university, to raise for the Help Imaan to talk project.  £285.87 were raised! Thank you to charismatic Hayati Ismail and husband, Faizam who initiated the drive.  Now, that amount cannot be compared to the amount Eju has raised; it is less than half of the amount raised by Hayati!  

I am therefore trying my best, as a friend, Muslim and human being, to spread out the word to friends and readers of my blog.  Let's Help Imaan to Talk.  If you recall, some time ago, I wrote about Adam's research on blogging and pleaded for help here (Adam is Imaan's father).  Adam came back to me saying that most of his respondents came from my blog and thus, I began to realise the power of the blogosphere and how kind my blog friends are.  

Let's do it again.  Details of Eju's marathons are as follows, but if you want to donate, you'd have to click here.

1) Wimbledon Audi 10K

Event Date: Sunday 17th Oct 2010, 9:00am
Location: Wimbledon Rugby Club, Beverley Meads, Barham Road, Copse Hill, Wimbledon, SW20 0ET
Race Details: 10km

2) The 10k Mo Run

Event Date : Sat, 13th Nov, 2010, 10:00am
Location : Greenwich Park, London
Race Details: 10km
Race website: http://www.thefixevents.com/content/movember-10k-run-greenwich-park/


Lastly, I extend my appreciation to all of you in advance.  May Allah reward you with an abundance of wealth today and in the hereafter...

Reflections on 6th Syawal

Ramadhan came and left, followed by Eid.  Undoubtedly, it brought joy and laughter.  Yet, amidst it all many tears were shed upon reflecting His powers, love and affection. 

Throughout the month of Ramadhan, I tried to instill the importance of working as a team in my children, whereby we did things together: read the Quran, prepared food for iftar, and baked eid cookies to be shared with friends.  Within the community, many activities were organised in order to strengthen the friendship and ukhwah within the Malaysians. 

It is already the 6th of Syawal.  I have not yet started my fasting due to health restrictions.  A peek into the cookie containers this morning was quite alarming indeed - they are all-most gone!  My London Almonds, Hazelnut Snowtops, Super Stars, Hearties and Makmurs are definitely depleting so quickly!!

How they grow, MasyaAllah...

September this year arrived with a mixture of feelings and anxieties.  After 6 weeks of summer break, the children are due back to school today.  And in 4 days' time, Eid will be knocking on our doors.

A few weeks ahead I rummaged through their wardrobes to look for their school uniforms, baju kurungs and baju melayus.  The sinking truth cannot be denied.  Everyone but one has outgrown their clothes.  Well, I know I kept on persuading my Princess to keep on wearing her school  shirt last summer term despite the fact that the sleeves had shrunk by one to two inches, so  that was not a surprise at all.  But don't tell me Little D's grown an inch too??  And Abang Z is already catching up on Abang H's size?!  Well, at least Abang H seems to have gone down a little - all his trousers seem to fit, and the few inches we had to fold are now falling into place.  Phew...

Abang H can even fit in the baju melayu I bought 2 years ago (which was undeniably one size bigger - LOL!)!!  Isn't that great news as everyone else can't seem to fit in theirs?  Previously, it was Abang H that worried me most; 'Ma, I don't have any shirt to wear!' or 'Ma, have you washed the only jeans I can fit into?'. So, of course Abang Z was blessed to have more clothes to choose from, since his twin had outgrown them.

Obviously, that was a tale told 6 months ago.  Today it's a different story.  After some careful hunting, shopping, cleaning and polishing, the children are all back to school in their proper attires, Alhamdulillah.  Well, I never got to fix Abang H's bicycle which required some professional attention, so he walked to school instead.  I'll see what I can do today.  After all, it is their 13th birthday.  I'm sure the least I can do is to make him happier.

I'm most certain that every parent has the same anxieties I have when a new academic year begins, or when the festive season approaches.  I know that back in Malaysia it might be multiplied by two or three folds, if not more.  At least here in the UK, we need not worry about books and bags.  Primary school children don't even have to bring in their own stationery! 

I know that if their late father was here, he'd say the same thing he used to say, 'Can you believe that they've all grown so much?'  He used to speak as if time froze, denying to accept the truth that lay ahead of us.  'Remember how small they used to be?'  

The arrival of the twins 13 years ago was something I will remember forever.  They were right on time - promptly after 40 weeks of gestation, complete with intense contractions that were 3 minutes apart.  Yet, they never wanted to come out normally, hence the C-section.

How can I forget being woken up by an Indian nurse who called my name repeatedly, 'Awak dapat anak kembar lelaki' ('You've got twin boys').  I gave a slow nod, relieved that the babies were finally delivered and that I had two boys (throughout my pregnancy, I refused to be told the genders of the babies).  I was heavily sedated with drugs - a dose of general anaesthetic, after being so high inhaling the laughing gas while in labour.  So, surely I can't recall what they looked like, other than the two blue bundles in the nurses' arms.  Yet, my late husband related how the boys, wide-eyed and alert, appeared so eager and curious!

13 years later, they have grown into teenagers with raging hormones which sometimes drives me crazy.  The twins I had last year are definitely not the same ones I have this year.  I don't know what the obsession is with technological gadgets or the physique but oh boy, oh boy, oh boy...

May Allah bless them all and give me strength to bring them up into good Muslims.

Paris!

17th May 1993

Noora, Ayu and I had always planned to go to Paris together for a short trip.  The Easter holidays were approaching, so one day after classes, we dropped by the Budget Travel in Nicholson Square and made our inquiries.  After informing the agent what we were after, the old queer man clumsily flipped over his directories and guide books.  He began picking up the telephone and scribbled what I believed was valuable information on scraps of paper.  I remember us speaking Malay under our breaths, giggling and joking as we waited for the old man.  Well, at that time, the internet basically did not exist.  I guess we could have bought some guide books and directories, but making phone calls in French was err... probably not possible!

Hence, by the end of the day, we managed to book 3 return tickets from Edinburgh airport to CDG, Paris and accommodation for 2 nights in a 2 star hotel right in the middle of the city.  We had a swell time exploring every single tourist point in Paris: in The Louvre, up the Eiffel Tower, in the Notre Dame,  a cruise along River Seine, along Champ Elysees, Arc de Triomphe, the Pompidou museum, the parks, and even to the Basilique du Sacre Cour.  Phew, it was indeed tiring!  Not to mention, we spent a day in Disneyland (previously known as EuroDisney).  I remember us returning to our budget hotel where the 14 inch TV was located at the very top corner of the wall, requiring us to only be able to watch it while lying horizontally on our beds.  

The trip was fun and I remember using up 4-5 rolls of film! 

***

11th June 2010

After a few years of dreaming, I finally made the trip to Paris with my four children a reality.  Unlike other Malaysian post-graduate students, my interest in exploring Europe has sparked off, with the exception of Spain, which I haven't been to (although there are a few other countries I secretly dream of). I had travelled quite a lot during my younger days and the thought of travelling with four children in tow was a little daunting.  What could possibly be the cheapest, easiest and least stressful?  

Finally, after some thoughts and prayers, I booked our accommodations and tickets online.  I had initially thought of taking the cheapest flight to Paris, but I never came across any good deals so the next best thing to do was to drive all the way there, as it would save us more than a couple hundred pounds.  

To minimize stress, I chose hotels that offered comfort and practicality, as well as providing us value for money.  I was not disappointed with my choice to book a 2 night accommodation at one of the Disney hotels, Davy Crockett Ranch because it was a self-catering unit which was brilliant.  The deal included breakfast and 3 days in the 2 Disney parks: Disneyland and Walt Disney Studios.  On weekends, as Disney hotel patrons, we had the privilege to enter the park at 8am (as opposed to 9.30am). 

The children (plus mother) enjoyed the rides tremendously!  The queues were longer during the weekend, which we sometimes avoided by getting the Fastpass.  We went on some good rides multiple times and mind you, nobody got tired of it.

On our third day, we only stayed in Disneyland for half a day because we wanted to venture Paris.  It was only half an hour's drive to the hotel but it took us a little longer as the traffic was manic.  It definitely reminded me of driving in KL, except that we were on the wrong side of the road. 

After checking-in the hotel, we quickly made our way to the nearest Metro station and headed towards the Louvre (main attraction: the Mona Lisa).  My princess had asked to go to a few museums but I feared that it would bore the older boys who weren't too keen in anything historical.  She had initially requested to go to the National Picasso Museum and the Marmottan Monet Museum.  However, the Louvre itself took us awhile to explore and was enough for everyone to digest. 

We then walked along River Seine, heading towards Notre-Dame.  There was quite a crowd at Notre-Dame, so we didn't go in to count the gargoyles (as planned), but counted the number of statues on the front of the cathedral.  We replayed the story of The Hunchback of Notre-Dame and even began to see whether we could spot a hunchback!  Then, the plan was to get on a boat along the river but somehow, the children were beginning to get tired so they decided to skip the river cruise and head towards the Eiffel Tower instead. 

Once at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower, Abang Z and my princess said that they wanted to take the stairs up the tower.  I looked at them doubtfully.  'Are you sure you'll be able to make it?'  We had, after all, walked quite a distance.  I wasn't keen to climb up the stairs and hence, everyone had to come with me up on the lift.  

When we stepped out of the lift, little D exclaimed, 'I don't believe we're on top of Eiffel Tower!  Thank you, Mummy...' 

I had purchased tickets to the 2nd level of the tower as access to the top was closed.  Initially, I had mixed feelings about forking out some money to go up the tower, but as soon as I heard little D's shout of glee and looked at his brightly lit face, I knew that I had made the right decision.  Alhamdulillah... praise the Almighty!

On our way to the Metro station, we walked pass a halal kebab stall.  Our initial menu for dinner that night was cup noodles because we were in a hotel with just a kettle and fridge, but the aroma was so tantalizing that I halted to buy one for appetizer.  Well, the two boys had earlier seen a halal restaurant near the hotel so they had already requested THAT for dinner.  However, we reached the restaurant a little too late (11.05pm) and the only food they were willing to prepare were double cheese burgers with fries.  Surely, that was enough for my children and in front of the TV back in our hotel rooms, the food vanished ever so quickly.  For dessert, the children had cup noodles.  Talk about hungry!

The next day, everyone slept in a little before we packed up and bid au revoir to Paris.  It took us almost 3 hours driving to Calais, 35 minutes through Eurotunnel and then another 3 hours from Folkestone back to Coventry.  It was a smashing break indeed...

Our new abode

I'm letting the pictures do the talking this time... ;)

Farewell...

As much as it hurts the already throbbing hearts, it is time for the five of us to bid adieu.

With much reluctance and sadness, we all said our goodbyes to dear Hammy, the adorable hamster that became our friend during the days of loneliness after the demise of our dearest.

I had never published the post I wrote about the arrival of our new family members (the hamsters) as it was a rather sad episode. I did not want to attract more than the unnecessary attention we were receiving and allowed the children a little bit more privacy.

It all started with the request from Abang Z. Being typically children, mine love animals and long to have every single creature on earth as a pet(the last request from Little D was a bearded dragon!). Their late father used to give in to their requests for he too was very passionate with animals. While I squealed or warned them that I never wanted to be a part of the responsibility to care for the animals (i.e. cleaning their cages!), my late husband took care of them all as promised. Through the span of approximately 7 years, we had had a collection of rabbits, birds, tarantulas, hamsters, white mice (yes, euuuuww!!), fish, chickens, ducks and terrapins. Goodness knows what else I may have forgotten to list down here.

Getting back to the matter at hand, after the departure of my husband in October 2007, the children began to ask for pets.

Mama, I need a friend...I need a pet. Abang Z opened up one day (notice the use of the word "need"!)

But darling, you have the four of us already! Don't you think that we're enough company for you? Am I not your friend?

No, you're my MOTHER! You're not my friend. I need a friend... H is my brother and the others are my siblings. It's not the same. I need a friend!

And the whining began. I admit that his reasons did make me choke a little. We were going through a difficult time of bereavement and healing that I somehow felt that it was my duty to lift my boy's spirits up.

We went to the pet shop down the road and agreed to purchase a suitable pet or two for the children. In this case, it was for each of the older boys and they were using their own money received from family and friends. The shop assistant suggested the Syrian hamsters although the children had their eyes on the Dwarf hamsters. The Syrian hamsters were bigger than the Dwarf Hamsters, but were less sociable. This simply meant that if you purchased the Dwarf hamsters, you could place both of them in the same cage, as opposed to the Syrian Hamsters who would fight with one another. However, the Dwarf hamsters are mighty fast, deeming it unsuitable for children as they might disappear from your hands before you know it.

We thus settled for the Syrian hamsters - one for Abang Z and another for Abang H, complete with two sets of cages. They were both males and extremely cute. The boys were very vigilant looking after the two but surely, it wasn't for long... Soon they were tipping each other to do their chores!

When we went back home for a short holiday in 2008, we left each of them with different friends. White stayed with a loving family up north while Hammy lived with some close friends in the city. Upon our return, I thought it was a hassle to drive up to collect White. After a little convincing, Abang H decided that he was ready to give White away. Unfortunately, White passed on approximately a year ago - most probably due to suffocation or heart attack by a group of wild children who attacked it in sheer fondness the night before. And thus, we were left with Hammy. Our dear, dear Hammy.

For the past few weeks, I had noticed that Hammy wasn't his old self. He no longer hid in his green plastic cubicle of a house and was somewhat 'different'. His sheltered house became his 'toilet' and he preferred to sleep on a stack of wood-shavings where we could see him. I had warned the children that the time was nearing and everyone was well aware of the fact that the life expectancy of a hamster is only about 2 -3 years.

Is he dead?

After two years, it was time for Hammy to leave us. Farewell little rodent!

A little is better than nothing... Or is it?

I should count my blessings for being granted a whole month of company by the man who has fathered me for 37 years; yet saying goodbye was torturous and deep-cutting. I soon discovered that it was not only me who drenched pillows, but the children also did the same. I pulled each of them in my arms and whispered to them to be strong as well as grateful for the pleasures of life that He showers unto us. Deep in my heart, I prayed hard that He will take all the pain away... as quickly as possible.

Earlier on, the children were thrilled to pieces to have dear 'ol grandad around. Tok Bah came specifically to spend time with his four grandchildren (he had 29 others back home, including 15 step grandchildren). He had had enough of the United Kingdom from his student days - back in Kirby College in Liverpool during his bachelor days, and also the University of Birmingham in the 70s. Hence, he was not really interested in seeing much of the country even though I did bring him back to his alma mater in Birmingham as that was too close for us to miss.

In 1996, he came back for my graduation and we looked for what was left of yesteryears. Except for the black iron gates, there was no sign of Kirby College, while the guest house in Selly Oak, Birmingham was exactly as it was - seemingly smaller in size to someone who had grown bigger and older. We did a fair amount of travelling at that time: from scenic Scotland to Lake District then down the north west, cutting through the west midlands, before making our way back up north. I also remember strawberry-picking in the outskirts of Edinburgh. Magnificent!

As prior mentioned, this time around I brought him back to Birmingham, where memories were made with our loved ones. Although I was only a tiny tod back then, there were some vivid incidences with my late mom and brother of which I can never forget. For instance, I remember sobbing on my late mom's lap after she asked me how I'd feel if she died. Simply ironic! I also recall the tape recordings we made to send home to my two sisters. At that time, making telephone calls were expensive while mobile phones and Internet simply did not exist. Therefore, text messages or web chatting via Skype/ YM/ google were objects of the future you never really thought much of. So, into the tape recorders we spoke and sang (and cried), of which was only heard by people back home approximately a month later. Little did I know that the cassettes became priceless to me much later, as a souvenir from Mak - who I never really got to know.

Let's get back to the present time. A few weeks ago, I was able to serve my old man English food which I know he loves - smoked mackerel and brussels sprouts to name a few! I must say that it's just so good to have another adult in the house whereby I can cook hot chilly meals and various vegetable dishes to enjoy with. Just like the old days, I can fix asam pedas mackerel or sambal terung, and not worry about it not finishing. The platter was always clean!

The children dotted on their grandad who gave them the attention they never had enough of. He enlightened them with stories and talked to them about their achievements throughout the day. He headed prayers with the boys and made them brush up on dusty pieces. Thanks to Tok Bah, my boys now know a simple piece of after prayers' du'a in Arabic - complete with opening and ending! It was my target to get the boys to learn it by the age of twelve because I know that it is part of the targets for those in KAFA (fardhu 'ain) schools in Malaysia. With Tok Bah's help, the boys managed to learn it in less than a couple of weeks. Now, all I have to do is to help them build it up gradually - just like the way I learnt it during my teenage days.

It was certainly great while it all lasted.

Naturally, when it was time to bid farewell, a shiver ran down my spine.

I'm now back on my own. Physically, mentally and emotionally. Too many people come and go in my life that I should by now be immune to all these emotional roller-coaster rides. I remind myself that the only one who remains close to us is Him and because of that, I am never ever alone. Physically perhaps, but not mentally and emotionally.

I'm not sure where I'm heading but the journey continues...

My childhood Ramadhan

I can't recall at what age it was that I managed my first full day of fasting during Ramadhan. Neither do I recollect what year it was that I completed a whole month of fasting. Our family did not practice the rewarding scheme of perhaps 20sen or 50 sen a day, or 'No Puasa, No Raya' motto ('No fast, No Eid celebration'). I just dutily followed the ritual every single day, with occasionally coming home from school announcing that 'I was too tired, tak tahan..' as an excuse for breaking fast. Yet, I do recall some incidents of poor perseverence and pathetic excuses when I'd be putting up the white flag only half an hour before iftar!

On the other hand, I'd say that it was actually a bonus for someone who doesn't fast in the house (our household consisted of 7 females including maid and only 2 males). Why wouldn't it be as you'd be called in to the kitchen like a real heroine - to sample the tarts or beef rendang! Oooo la la!! However, I don't think I was actually much help to my sisters and mom as you can't really rely on an 8 year old to comment whether the batter's not too crumbly or the rendang lacking asam, can you?

In the 80's there was no such thing as Bazaar Ramadhan, which you can find almost everywhere in Malaysia today. Now, as early as 12pm, pitches are put up and preparation for sales are made. You can find almost any Malaysian delicacy at the Bazaar Ramadhan although the taste is no guarantee at all. Most of time, you'd be drooling over every single colourful and tempting item, only to discover that it is tasteless or had even gone bad (due to too early preparation or unhygienic practice).

As a child, I remember the whole episode of fasting to be a torturous and long wait. With every iota of energy drained out from me, I'd be slumped on the sofa infront of the TV or sprawled on the cool mosaic floor, watching the Arabic programmes depicting stories of the prophets. I'd sometimes take a nap or have a super long shower with the reasons being two-fold: to past time and to recharge the energy level.

On an average day, the dining table would be laid with a jug of delicious pinky sirap bandung, a plate of dates, a plate of kuih either made by our maid, given by one of the neighbours or bought from a stall, and the usual few dishes that complemented the rice. As soon as the azan was heard, I'd be gulping down the drinks - one glass after another! Lat's cartoons illustrate the scenes of iftar magnificently that many of them seem so familiar, don't they? ;)

Looking back at how it was fasting as a child, I am pleased to see my children doing it so well today. I think it helps that we're away from home - without the temptations of Bazaar Ramadhan and without the steaming heat. Even though a day stretches to 16 hours long, it's still the school holidays and that factor certainly helps!

Nothing is certain except change.

I brought the children to the National History Museum last weekend as I had not been to any of the museums in London in my entire life. It is rather pathetic to think that I've not been to any of these interactive and interesting museums despite the fact that I've been to London so many times for so many years. Now, with four off-springs, I have no excuse to not visit them - especially when the entrance is free!

Initially, I had asked them which museum they'd prefer: the one with the dinosaurs or the one with the mummies. It wasn't a surprise that they chose the dinosaurs as we had already been to the museum in Egypt to see the real mummies - the tombs and a shrunken and wrinkled Pharoah himself. Princess didn't like the sight of the blackened corpse at all! Furthermore, she insisted that she had been on her school trip to the London museum with mummies last year.

So, on Saturday, when we walked into the front gate a long queue awaited us - mostly comprising of tourists from France and Spain. I gasped a little but was glad to find that the queue was moving very quickly. Lovely, lovely, lovely. Inside, we were welcomed by a huge skeleton of a plant eater, the Diplodocus. The children were already beginning to imagine the impossible - of being trapped in the museum and being able to find everything come to life!

I don't know how our National Museum in Kuala Lumpur looks like in the inside today as the last time I went in was perhaps approximately 25 years ago! That already hints that I am close to being an antique artefact. Oh, dear. Anyway, from what I gather, our 'ol museum is still very much the same as the way it was yonks ago: mostly of manequins donning clothes of the sultanates and historical objects exhibited in glass cabinets. Surely, for our museum to be more interesting, they'd have to increase the currently meagre fee of RM2 to something more outrageous. Well, unless some tycoon would be generous enough to give some to the community. Ha Ha! Wishful thinking.

Coming back to our trip to the museum, the children bombarded me with a million questions (which I'm sure they've already asked a zillion times now!) about the existence of the dinosaurs and the creation of the universe in the Islamic context. Among all, I came across the phrase Nothing is certain except change - which I found extremely interesting. It encapsulates the concept of the unknown future and the divine will, which even science cannot deny. With that, I reminded myself to welcome change and endure the trials that come with it.

The museum was enormous and we obviously did not manage to cover the entire building as I had to leave to meet an old friend I had not met for 15 years. The children wanted to go to the Science museum which was close by but I managed to convince them that we had to keep some places unvisited for our next trip although the children really had their eyes on the London Eye. If Allah permits, it'll be the next time around kids...

(I wanted to download more pictures but there were problems downloading pictures in the right order)

Mary, Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow?

We have a long narrow stretch of land next to our driveway and we've planted a range of edible and decorative plants in it. For now, the strawberries and broad beans are ready for harvest and we're anxiously waiting for the cauliflower and brussels sprouts (perhaps the children's extreme enthusiasm to grow them will heighten their interest in consuming these vegetables). The petunias, roses and few other flowers I've forgotten their names have been brightening our front but my carnations are still a little shy.

Everyday, except when it drizzles or rains, the children will fight for the watering can to water their thirsty plants. But when it comes to weeding, they leave it to their mom (what's new?).

Oh, soon the tomatoes on my kitchen windowsill will ripen and Abang H's solo sunflower will also bloom!

Feeling good... praises to the Almighty

Just when I was beginning to feel a little bit down in the dumps, the Almighty knew best to brighten up my day by presenting me with joy upon joy.

Firstly, He granted us some sunshine. So warm and sunny it was that I happily hung our laundry out to dry under the sun and we spent time pulling out the weeds in the garden. I am, however, more wary of staying out when it's warm, i.e: high pollen content in the air. I must remember the consequences of exposure to pollen - horrible skin rash!

The great weather invited us to our second joy which was strawberry picking with some friends, followed by a picnic at our favourite park: Coombe Abbey (definitely where memories were made with the beloved and some precious friends, namely Mamasarah and Halwafy).

We are now going to have a strawberry feast this week, bagging home approximately 4kgs yesterday. After giving away a bucket to a neighbour, I joked that we'd be having ayam masak strawberry (chicken strawberry stew), sambal strawberry (strawberry chillies or chutney) and gulai strawberry (strawberry stew) the whole week! Chuckle!! Of course, it is in actual fact going to be more of: strawberry slush, strawberry shake, strawberry dipped in chocolate, strawberry tartlets, strawberry jam, strawberry shortcakes and strawberry tortes! Yum yum!

One thing about strawberries is that they don't always taste exactly the same. A piece may be sourish, while another may be lushiously sweet. Another attempt might prove in between while the next one seduces you even more! Little D announced yesterday that strawberries were his favourite fruit, but when I asked him how it fared compared to durians, he paused and said, "Well, durians are my favourite in Malaysia but over here, my favourite fruit is strawberry!"

Arriving home at 7.30pm, which is still early as the sun only sets two hours later, we were all knackered - ready for bed. We each showered, performed our solah and had a light dinner of left-over pasta from the afternoon. I was ready to hit the sack when the twins reminded me that they had to read their Qurans. Oh dear... I obliged seeing that Abang was excited as he was already in his final chapter of the Quran. Alhamdulillah, he has finally completed his reading of the Quran.

Unexpectedly, I was filled with a feeling of euphoria - undescribable and unexplainable. I didn't expect to be so overwhelmed over my boy's achievement but it just happened. I wanted to shout to the world - to close family members and friends, but I realised that there wasn't anyone around. People back home were still asleep at 10.30pm GMT (5.30am Malaysian time). I didn't want to scare my dad or sister, by calling them up too early; neither did I want to disturb friends with an unexpected beep on their mobiles while they were still in slumber. I thought of my friends in the UK, but quickly erased my text when I realised that I must sound like a crazy OTT mom, excited over nothing! After all, other people had their children complete the quran at a tender age of 7 or 8. And here I am, dubiously elated over her first-born completing it at the age of 11+. Big deal!

However, let me share why such feelings seeped through me. Even though the children go to the mosque to read their quran, they have completed their readings this time under my supervision - 100%. We started the journey at the beginning of 2008, and the journey has been beautiful. In my honest opinion, it didn't drag too long and the children were already familiar with the quran due to their previous experiences. My tajweed is not perfecto (and I'm dying to learn more!) but I have had my fair share of Quran and tajweed classes during school days (including those sleepy afternoon lessons during Forms 1 and 2 with 'ol Ustaz Dahalan) and also post-school days. The children are continuously asking about what a symbol means, and how the readings of certain areas should be - prompting me to search for an answer myself when things became vague.

We also shared stories of the different surahs and the significance of some stories. I attempted to introduce them to some arabic words and understand the structure of the language itself so that they would know where to pause, etc. I saw the twinkle in their eyes when they triumphantly recognised words and their meanings, or even names of prophets or even names of some friends or relatives! The repetition of certain phrases, such as in Surah Ar-rahman illustrated how beautiful the language of the Quran is, especially when they rhymed. Short and common du'as were marked for us to return to and memorise. It has certainly been education for us all!

In short, I retired last night with praises to the Almighty, for showering me with goodness and well-being. Upon reflection, His rezq certainly comes in various forms and shapes, and the best of them all is the gift of my Fantastic Four! May Allah bless us all always...

p/s: The house is also now more complete with the arrival of two wardrobes to hang our clothes up! No more living from a suitcase for us!!

My boys...

Since I wrote the last entry, some things have changed. I have begun to realise how much I have to be careful with whatever I say to these precious children of mine for their little minds often attempt to come up with incredulous ideas. This is what happened...



A day after I wrote the last entry, Abang H was a little lazy at reading his Quran. Instead of nagging him, I resorted to the usual psychological game. Hmm... looks like someone's making it much easier for me by not wanting to read the Quran today. Hoorah!



Instead of getting him beside me the next second with Quran in hand, they began an in-depth discussion with me about their request.



Oh, do you think it's too much for us to ask for the laptop? Abang Z queried (I dare not ask whether it was one each that they demanded for!).



I just smiled. No, if you boys don't want to read, hence not wanting to finish before the school trip to France, then it's fine by me.



The boys began to whisper to one another.



Okay-lah Mama, I won't ask for anything! I'll still try to khatam the Quran, but you don't have to give me anything, Abang Z exclaimed bravely.



Abang H's expression changed. WHAT? No laptop, no nothing?



I was taken aback by Abang Z's response. Calmly, I told them, Boys, look here. We made a deal so a deal is a deal. You just concentrate on your Quran readings, and leave everything else to me (even though I didn't really have a clue what my plan was!).



That night, I heard them talk and talk under their duvets but I was too tired to eavesdrop. The next morning, they presented me with their revised proposal.



Mama, we don't want a laptop (notice singular form, not plural!) for completing our Qurans but we have changed it to rabbits as pets! I've worked out an estimate and it's far cheaper than a laptop, you know.



Ow!



The children knew how I loathed pets of all sorts. I am not like their late dad who, like a child himself, loved every single living animal there is in the world, ever-so-willingly wanting to take home one! Yes, these creatures are amazingly adorable but only if they belong to someone else, of course! Wasn't it enough that I succumbed to their cries after their dad's departure by giving in to their requests for hamsters early 2008? Okay, so we gave one away when we went back home last year but we still have one more and no one hardly plays with it. I'm the one left talking and playing with it night and day. Urgh!!! By the way, aren't we supposed to be working on the 'NO NEGOTIATIONS' thingy?



It's definitely made me feel bad. Bad because one hint about my worry and they have changed their minds about what to ask for. I know that Abang H still wants the laptop, but Abang Z is trying to persuade him otherwise.



I'm trying to think what the late Mr.D would have said if he were here today. I know that the children really take after him, both at being a gadget-person and also loving animals. Personally, I'd prefer something as clean as an electric gadget (though it also requires some TLC). I also know that Little D is now questioning why his older brothers can request for a pet when he has been crying and wailing for a goldfish or guinea pig or stick insect for ages already! Ergo, getting the older ones rabbits would definitely make the younger one squeal in anger and frustration.



What seemed like a simple carrot has now transformed into a rabbit. So much for motivation!

No negotiations!

Every parent can certainly agree with me that bringing up a child is nothing like ABC. Some people sail through parenthood more easily than others, while some others are tested almost throughout. Of course there are also the in-betweens. That's probably where I am.

Parents often sit down comparing notes and sharing anecdotes of their growing up children. New mothers share their anxiety over engorged bosoms, sleepless nights, wailing bald heads and the simple debate of to breastfeed or not to breastfeed. It soon develops through a series of milestones: first tooth (and how much it hurts nursing Mums - Ow!!)/step/word/birthday to first day at kindy/school. As they grow older, the challenge is more mentally exhausting than physical - how do I make him sleep in his own bed, should I let her have it, or just the more obvious, how do I say NO to him without feeling guilty and him rebelling?

As a single parent, I find that one of the most trying things I have had to deal with is when I have to say NO to the children. You really feel like a baddy when you're almost forever responding NO to their questions or requests (especially when you're the only adult they ask permission from). In the past, I had wriggled myself out of sticky situations by occasionally directing the children to their dad, Go ask Abah...

Believe it or not, the children are often testing us by seeing how flexible and easily persuaded we are. Surely, it's all in the How to bring up your child handbook, and even on TV - Stoppard, Thomas, Supernanny, Nanny 911, etc. The rule of the thumb is to be firm and to remain consistent. Easier said than done.

Hence, the slogan that goes in the house nowadays is as the title goes: NO NEGOTIATIONS!

If mummy says we're coming home at 3pm, that's what we're going to do - nobody negotiates for an extra 5-10 minutes.

If mummy says we're sleeping over at a friend's for 1 night, that's what we're going to do - nobody negotiates for an extra night.


If mummy says they can play their X-box on weekends on school holidays only, that's what they're going to abide to - nobody should ask on a weekday.

It isn't easy but I think we're getting there. Once the rule is established and everyone respects it, I believe everyone will be happier and less stressful (moi! moi!).

Before this, we went through the concept of appreciating time; that there was time for each activity. When it was time to play, then everyone should go all out and enjoy themselves (without needing to negotiate for extra time later!). When it was time to eat, everyone eats without any interruptions (no TV, movie, and those never-ending yakety yaks). When it was reading moment, everyone gets a hardcopy of some reading material to indulge in.

These sort of slogans will InsyaAllah help me with my daily responsibilities. So watch out kids, with Mama there are just No negotiations!!

The Move

I'm attempting to type this in between piles of boxes, baskets and bags of all sorts. Let's hope I can quickly get this done and published. If I don't get to finish this, you'll know that it's probably because I can no longer balance this notebook on the whole pile, forcing it to snap close or whatever... ;)

(picture taken from: www.arenamagazine.co.uk)
We're moving out and I'm filled with a mixture of emotions. Yes, there were sleepless nights, followed by headaches, backaches and heartaches for the past month. I'm not being sentimental about the memories I had with him here because I'm too practical to feel just that (yeah, sure!). Of course there were beautiful memories of us transforming this dilapidated house into our love nest albeit this wasn't the house that Mr D built. My anxiety to move out is more of the fear of uprooting and settling down on my own. The things to pack - what do I do with his things? Honey, what should we do with this? The loading - 'if only he were here...' The new place - where's my handyman? Where do I put this, this and that?

When we moved into this house, my man spent hours making up the toilet, attempting to improve on the minute kitchen, laying out new carpets over the dingy fitted ones, etc. Hence, there is that constant question at the back of my mind: who's going to help me when we get to the new house?

This is where the blessings of the Almighty is extended to us. I've got friends who have offered a hand and vans on the big day. I've also hinted for help in repairing and setting up some things around the house. Thus, all will be well, InsyaAllah.

Many have asked the reason for the move but it's perhaps best to say that it's just for the better. Many a times has the thought of moving out to a better place (perhaps one a little warmer and with a slightly bigger kitchen) struck my mind, but there was no way I'd get another place offering the same rate. So, I persevered and I told the children to hold on. My landlord's personal problem now is therefore just a reason for us to take the big step out of this house! Here we go!!

As reluctant and hesitant as I am about the move, I'm taking all this good-naturedly. It's hijrah. It is and will be better for us all, God willing. But I can't help feeling the irony of it all - we're moving into the house he had initially booked two years ago... Perhaps it really is fated?! Is it, Cayang?

Another Mother's Day...

A visit to the supermarket a few weeks ago reminded me that it was that time of the year again - Mother's Day or Mothering Sunday, as it is called in the UK. The aisles were filled with all sorts of attractions which set the siren blazing - I had to keep my children away from them all!!! So when I found myself stepping into a supermarket with my children on Saturday evening, I diverted traffic and avoided the 'danger' zone.

The reason I did this was simply because I cannot bear think of my children worrying about how to get their mommy a gift - who was going to help them do it discreetly. They simply do not have any other adult who would become their confidante. Not anymore. I am their all - their hope, their sunshine, their rain. Hence, the next best thing to do was to protect them and hide them from the horrible world of commercialism.

Yet today, my charming Fantastic Four managed to surprise me with cards and a box of chocolates! How and where did you buy these? I repeatedly asked. They beamed but refused to share their little secret.

It is undeniable that a gift from our children will put a smile on our faces and make our hearts glow with pride. However, what we often forget is that the reward in the hereafter is incomparable and will be heavenly priceless! If only I could remember this every time my voice goes a note higher, or my nerves start twitching. Being a mother is a gift - it doesn't require another gift of recognition, does it?

Initially, I had spent time reflecting on my role as a single parent to the children. How much have I succeeded, and how much have I failed? What more can I do and what else can I offer? The children need to be nurtured and be brought up with love and attention. They also deserve to be given opportunities in life: to run freely in the fields and breathe in the fresh air.

Most mothers dream for some royal treatment on Mother's Day - perhaps a day 'off' from the daily chores (cooking, cleaning, minding), or a day's pampering at the local spa. Aaaah... how ideal! However, if one is pragmatic, then she would understand that a mother can never take a vacation away from her roles as a mom and all that will not go unnoticed!

So, this morning I prepared a fancy breakfast decorated with small heart-shape pointers and mugs of steaming hot chocolate with cream for my children. I did a special prayer for my jewels of amanah, and was filled with the feelings of contentment and gratitudes. I am blessed with four children - Alhamdulillah! Even though my plan to spend special time out with them had to be cancelled due to a call for a meeting by other friends, I know they had a great time today.

Mom of the Year Award

I have been honoured with my first blog award from my Singaporean mate, Stylomom, who seems to think that I deserve it. I'm probably expected to give a speech a la the winners of academy awards, or like my blog-chum, KC. Hehe... But I digress. Issues of child-raising is a very sensitive matter to me. I strongly feel that what others think is not important. Only my children and the Almighty know how good or bad a mother I am.

It seems that the award comes with a set of rules which are:
1. Admit one thing you feel awful about (involving being a mom). Once you have written it down, you are no longer allowed to feel bad. Remember you are a good mom!

2. List 7 things you love about your kids, you love doing with your kids, or that your kids love about you.

3. Send this to 5 other moms of the year that deserve a reminder that they too are the best moms that they can be. Remember to send them a note letting them know you have selected them, and also add a link to your post that directs people back to the person who nominated you.

So, here I go.
Admit ONE thing you feel awful about.
Being strict.
Mama, can we go to the movies today? NO (no budget!)

Mummy, can I sleep with you tonight? NO (If I say yes to one, the others will deem me unfair. Er... how would 5 on a battered springy bed sound to you?)

Mum, can I buy this with my own money? NO (refraining from buying does not always have to do with money. It's also got to do with how much it could be a waste of!)

Mama, can we stay here for another night? (after 3 nights sleeping at friend's in Sheffield recently) NO (negotiations can go on and on for days. Besides, I already had the following day marked on my diary!)

Why do they always try their best at persuading me? Who do I consult when in doubt? Why do I always feel bad even though I have my very own rationale behind the constant NOs?

7 things I love about my kids/ I love doing with my kids/ kids love about me

1. I love their thoughtfulness. Sharing and considering others is something that often touches my heart. It doesn't matter if it's the last slice of apple on the plate, piece of chocolate from the bar, bit of crisps in the bag, or drop of sirap bandung in the jug; they would each make sure that everyone in the room has been asked for permission or consent, Would you like some more of this? They also share their thoughts and memories of their beloved daddy with me all the time...

2. I love their creativeness. A card, a paper model, a spy-gadget, a lego sculpture, a new recipe or a poem. At times, their work is gobsmackingly magnificient. Occasionally, it might be amazingly innovative. Other times, it could be hilariously fascinating. It's their effort that counts.

3. I love doing outdoor activities with the kids: swimming, playing football/ tennis/ badminton, flying kite, running, etc.

4. I love having them in my arms and showering them with kisses! And I hope I can continue doing this even when they're all grown up with kids of their own. :)

5. My kids love the craziness in me. Despite my firm stand, I'm always singing, dancing and fooling around with my Fantastic Four. Princess sometimes comments, You're like a little girl, Mama, but I don't care! LOL!

6. My kids love me for being clever. Every time they ask me a question, I'd provide them with an answer - when I don't know the answer, I give them an honest reply just like all teachers do. Upon quenching their thirst, they'd ask me further, how do you know, mum? How do you always know all the answers? So, it's natural then that they think their mom is a genius. Hehe... Aren't all mothers and children bias?

7. My kids love me for always surprising them with sweet-nothings. And when I say 'nothing', I mean 'nothing': a card, a second-hand item, a piece of chocolate, or even a bun or cookie with their initials on. Sometimes, I'd save up for something they've been eyeing on, get it at a bargain, and keep it until the day they deserve it arrives.

I know that all moms deserve this award but I can only choose 5 here, and they have to be bloggers. Hence, I'm awarding those whom I admire for the superb strength that makes them different and special.

1. Raden Galoh - a cancer fighter who has 2 handsome princes. She's their idol, for definite! (mine too!!)

2. Myheartbleeds - a widow with two sweethearts. It is obvious that she's a superwoman who braves through her days despite the blood flowing through her heart! (though I constantly pray that she'll heal soon)

3. Ms B - a single mom with an angel. It's not easy bringing up your off-spring all alone in a foreign country. Tell me about it!

4. Naz - a supermom who makes mouth-watering Sambal Hantu Syaitan and Lefser, and bakes vannkringle for her adorable children in a land she now calls home. A tough call. Norway? NO WAY for some!! :)

5. Simah - another super-duper mom in a foreign land (Turkey), who fixes kıymali ispanak and other tongue twister dishes for her delightful duo (and husband). How these women (Naz & Simah) master a third language is certainly a wonder to me!

Lastly, my gratitudes to Stylomom for the award, though it's only virtual!

Fun for Fathers evening

Another episode of awkwardness in child-bringing.


Little D knows he doesn't have a dad. There's no doubt about it. But when it comes to occasions the school organises especially for 'daddies', I wished that we could just be swallowed up into the earth that very instant.


It's heart-breaking and heart-wrenching... to see a boy of 6 whine and nag to attend the do. It clearly says: for fathers or male-carers. Oh, little 'un, please please please!


So, what do I do?

A. Attend the do dressed up as a man (Princess has a full-proof plan for this!),
B. Talk to the teacher about the situation, and ask if I could come instead,
C. Ask a male friend to bring Little D,
D. None of the above.

Let's go through all these rationally. Firstly, I couldn't possibly pull through A in my right mind! I thank my children for a well-thought plan for a disguise, but I think I've got to take a raincheck . Option B sounds pretty reasonable but I've done this too often (talking to the teacher and requesting for something - to be excused from an event or something similar); sometimes with a tear or two escaping. It's an embarrassing situation to be in, and I hate feeling hopeless or appear as if I'm seeking for sympathy or charity. Still, the situation I am in often calls for such measures to be taken. Hence, this time around, I just couldn't bring myself to again, ask for something I wasn't supposed to.

C was somehow not feasible, hence I opted for D.

And Little D did not take it easily. Since the Gruffalo was coming that evening, I tried to pacify Little D by persuading him that we too could have an evening with Gruffalo at home. In fact, Gruffalo was coming over to our place! I took out some coloured paper and pens, and immediately started my project with the teary-eyed. As I didn't have brown cloth in the house, we couldn't make a fancy puppet, but did some stick puppets of the characters in the story, complete with backdrops and all. Hoorah!! Initially I was the one who drew the pictures while Little D and Princess coloured. However, in the end, I found myself being the only person left doing e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g! Typical!

He's now a happy boy who has taken a great interest in books (very proud that he can now read)with Harry and the Dinosaurs in one corner, The Gruffalo in another corner, and some others in a different corner. I finally got my message across: "we don't have a daddy any longer, so there are some things we can't really take part in. BUT, it doesn't mean we can't improvise and do other things together!"

I am sure, however, that this is not the end. There will be more awkward episodes ahead. InsyaAllah, we will survive...

My profile picture (and other anecdotes about my wonderful children)

I realise that I have never actually related the story behind the profile picture I now have (yes, taken me almost 2 years to get that!).

If you click on the photo, you might be able to see that there's a goldfish swimming in the vase. Yup, that was a surprise I got from my Fantastic Four one day during our trip back home last summer. I had returned home from the hospital a little knackered, and the kids couldn't wait to lead me in. Tarra - lo and behold, Abang H showed me their masterpiece: Bougainvilleas and Bird of Paradise (picked from Tok Bah's garden - hehe) arranged in my vase with a wriggling gold piece in it. It certainly made my heart melt!

Although they all claimed to have done it together, I know who must have initiated it. Abang H. He's the one who's slightly more creative and innovative when it comes to presentations, and always finding means to please his mommy, perhaps to make up for his oft-clumsy demeanor(it's a dyslexic thingy, so my research says).

From time to time, I am reminded of Allah's magnificent blessing to me: my children. They are my everything - my sunshine, my rain, my heartbeat, my soul, my joy and my sorrow. I know I could be in danger of falling into the same trap I was before by making them my everything, but this time around, it's slightly different because they are my amanah, and I am after all, their soul proprietor in this foreign land. It goes without saying that I have no doubt that they are actually in good hands of the Almighty, wherever they might be, yet I cannot take things lightly.

Of course they are kids who never understand the concept of tidiness and minimality, or even adhere to the constant nags of this often-hysterical-mommy manning an almost dilapidated house, but they often express their sincerest loves in the most touching manner. Let's take a lazy Sunday morning two weeks ago, when I tried my luck by whispering to the twins, "Abang, can you prepare me breakfast today? Mommy wants to be served instead of serving."

They shot out from under the duvets, and fixed me bread and honey on toasts with a mug of hot coffee (the waitress came to take my order with pen and paper), while they enjoyed their special scrambled eggs on toasts (I opted out of that as I wanted something light). Usually on weekends I'd prepare a hearty breakfast for all with a touch of extra surprise wrapped up in an envelope of love - which could be in the form of some amusing presentation, or crafty home-made cards with riddles or instructions to hidden treasure! Just an attempt to start the day more promisingly and positively. Well, having breakfast served to you once in a blue moon was certainly a good start for the day!

Here's another story that depicts the thoughtfulness of my precious gems. During school break a few weeks ago, I counted my pennies and brought the children out for a trip to the castle. When their daddy was around, we had put that on the list of places to go to but little did we know that we'd be going there without him. The children were excited when I told them about the trip (Abang Z had actually made a request earlier on to do something different during the term break), and kept asking how much the tickets costed. They are aware of how strict mommy is with the budget hence were wondering how much was 'affordable'. You know how it is with mothers (or is it just me?); it's always a No here, No there, and No every where!

As usual, at the castle gift shop they were tempted to buy ridiculously priced souvenirs and nicknacks which mommy had to cold-heartedly say NO to. Er, she didn't even allow them to use their own pocket money as most of the things were actually... junk! Of course, the most heart-broken one was Little D who had wanted to get a set of sword and shield (like he has not had any of those!!).

Anyway, it wasn't until the following day that I was surprised by them little ones. It wasn't my birthday, neither was it Mother's Day. But out of nowhere, they handed me a present nicely wrapped in home-made wrapping paper! Of course, that made mommy all teary; to find that in the box was a pen with her initials on it, and the pen was bought at the gift shop using their pocket money. I could have shot myself with an arrow at that very moment, to think how sternly impossible I had been the day before. *sigh* On the card was written, Thank you for bringing us to the castle. We love you Mama.

To sum, this is the rahmah He has presented me with. We may not have much, but we have each other and thoughts of all those we love. I will always keep the memories of those dear to me close to my heart and in my prayers. God permitting, nothing else can beat the love from four pure hearts which will keep my heart pumping on and on...

A splash of cold water... right in the face!

The trees are swaying, with leaves rustling. The air is fresh and cool; a wisp of tingling sensation running down the spine. I love the smell of fresh-cut grass and the energy created by the powerful effects of pleasant weather in Britain. The clear crisp air somehow allows you to snap out of your dream to realise that you are indeed living in the world today.

I was awoken from my deep slumber. Today I suddenly realised that this is for real. No, I have never been in denial, neither have I been angry nor have I antagonised the demise of my beloved. I have always known that he is gone, forever... (despite the memories that haunt me, and the dreams I still have of him: coming to just lie beside me in bed, both of us just smiling and looking deep into each other's eyes).

Nonetheless, today when I paid my zakat fitrah for the first time in my entire life - the fact hit me hard. I am now the leader of the pack, the sole parent, the closest human to my four off-springs. Such a responsibility lies on my shoulders, symbolically portrayed through the act of paying the zakat for each of my dependents. Oh, Cayang, I now have to do all this on my own... I know I can, with His guidance and power, but I feel I'm left to dwindle almost so hopelessly...

Then, later tonight, as I cleared up the living room, the term 'single-parent' hit me straight in the face - the second time today. Gee, now I am just like that makcik who has been raising her two daughters single-handedly ever since her husband passed away, when she was carrying her second child. Or, just like my neighbour from across the street, who's been divorced since her little girl was in kindergarten. In fact, my position is almost exactly like what I see in movies (or dramas and cerekaramas) or read in novels - of how widows and divorcees struggle to bring up their children single-handedly. They work extra hours, and they crack their whips, just so that their children are not deprived of the wonders of the world. Today, I am on the other side. I am that woman.

Subhanallah and Alhamdulillah. I thank the Lord for the rezki He has showered us with. However, I can't help feeling a wee bit sorry for my children; that their lives today are no longer the same as yesterday. I thought that I could offer them a more 'perfect' family than what I had before but who would guess that my beloved would go so soon? Ergo, I succumb to the divine will, because although feint, the best must be etched somewhere out there for each of us - by Him. They will InsyaAllah grow up tough, 100 times tougher than their Mommy.

It's almost a year now... (how time flies). This time last year, he had given a friend some money to pay for our zakat. This time last year, I still had a husband to whom I smiled to and held hands with. This time last year, we were still a family: a father, a mother and four children. That is how fast Allah can take what He has given. All for the best and all because He loves us.

Wakey, wakey! He is now only a memory in our minds - of a very loving and caring man who was my best friend and leader of the family.

My dearest children, you are the amanah Allah has bestowed onto me. With the barakah of this holy month, I pray that I will be a better Muslimah so that I can be a good mother to you all. It doesn't matter how difficult things are, or how different we are from others because as long as we have each other, then God-willing, we will always be alright.