Friday, September 05, 2008

Strong Women = Super Hot Women

It's now waking up at 3:30am to wait for hubs to pass the warm milk bottle, stick it into Potch's mouth because by this time he'd merengek with his eyes closed and he won't even want to hold the bottle himself.

At 4 am, it is time to prepare for sahur. It was fried gyoza's, dumplings in plain ginger soup or fried nasi kerabu... whatever that's easy to prepare yet keep us away from that bloatiness feeling.

Then it's the normal 8:30 - 5:30 weekday routine, which still requires lotsuf fire fighting.

Come back, rush to cook everything the maid has chopped and marinated. At the same time, trying to ensure I still have enough air time with the little boy who sings aaaaa, ouuuuuuuu, aaaiieeeeeee on his walker outside the kitchen trying to run over the little safety gate.

There are times I wonder when was the last time I get the time to look at my face long enough in the mirror for reality checks. For anything that needs extra care. Like other wives, we want everything to be perfect for the family and at the same time we get freaking worried if our parents might feel left out or if the maid needs extra break from her routine. A million other thoughts equivalent to strategies on how to conquer the world with just one clap.

Is that a sign of Obsessive, Compulsive Syndrome? It can't just come half way through your life could it? Yeah, everyone's raya outfits are even ready, that includes the maid's and the sister's!

At least I haven't bought everything needed to make the cookies, buy new curtains, get rid of the ugly dinner table, blaa blaa blaa.

I just mentioned that this post natal hair loss is going against my plans, a simple black shoulder length hair wig will fix it. But hubs thinks it is a completely absurd idea and that hair wigs are only for terminally ill people. Oh well.

I now find myself thinking in that Rose is Rose cartoon mode. That after I finish wiping off the Banana and Carrot puree off my hair, I'm off in my black leather outfit and knee length black leather boots, turn on the song 'One Step at a Time' by Jordan Sparks on my iPod, my long shiny tresses is covered underneath a Nike black silk key and hop onto my black CBR...... to buy more diapers for my boistrous little Potch.

Okay, back to reality, I will just stick to becoming just like Charlize Theron in Hancock. Anyone calls me a crazy woman again, I'll lift them with my finger and throw them into oblivion.

Preview (again) of your nephew!

He's growing up so fast, he has such an infectious laughter, he literally goes Ahhak, ahak, ahak! And somehow his response towards Tok Daddy is a lot more compared to Tok Mummy who 'acah' him a lot more. Dia dah tak heran kot.

He's probably 9 kilos now.

Once you come back, we shall think of a place to go holiday altogether before the year ends.

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