Note to self:

Apologizing doesn’t always mean you’re wrong and the other person, right. It just means you value your relationship more than your ego.

Love ’em or hate ’em?

Two years working in a primary school has exposed me to many of the quirks that make up the children of this age. Some adorable, some entertaining, some eyebrow-raising, and some…..downright diabolical.

I’ve never known how to say this without making myself sound like I don’t possess a single nurturing and motherly bone in my body, but the fact is I don’t really have an inclination towards children. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I dislike children, because the fact is I do like some of them (mostly the good ones).

When I started working with kids, it was awkward because I hadn’t interacted with children on a regular basis pretty much ever since I outgrew the age group myself, so I wasn’t sure how to bring myself down to their level to effectively communicate with them. Babies and toddlers are different because, well, what’s so difficult about cooing?

But as with most things, it was only a matter that needed getting used to. At first I couldn’t gauge how low to bring myself down to across different levels. I’d talk to a 10-year old like I would to a 7-year old, I’d assume that an 11-year old wouldn’t need such detailed instructions and I’d grant the 12-year olds more space than they can handle to exercise initiative and independence. Bit by bit, I start to learn the systems upon which they work. I learn what interests them, what tickles their funny bone, what threatens them (this particular one, I like).

There are some children, though, whose systems (or lack thereof ) completely throw me off. Dig a little deeper and slowly but surely, you’ll discover cracks in the form of  autism, ADD, ADHD, OCD, dyslexia, low IQ, selective mutism….or just a case of bad parenting or weak family dynamics. The kinds of children that stem from these situations are the most challenging to handle because they are often the most disruptive or the most withdrawn — and I am no  child psychologist or counsellor. Doesn’t help that I’m not exactly the most patient person on earth, either.

Anyway the point of all of this is that seeing these kinds of children has planted a seed of fear in me to have children of my own. Supernanny was harrowing for me. But to label it paedophobia would be blowing things out of proportion, obviously. What it really is, I think, is a simple fear of the unknown — basically a fear of what kind of parent I will be, how my children will turn out to be, etcetera, etcetera. It seems like  too much responsibility and pressure. What if things turn out horribly wrong? I know, I’ve already been told I’m too much of a worrywart.

On the other hand, if everything goes in the right direction, the experience can be one of a lifetime — that much, I know. So much so that it seems foolish not to at least try.

Twenty-four in fifteen.

Just because making lists and checking them off is fun to do, here’s a wishlist for my 24th birthday:

1. 250gb/320gb external hard drive – to accommodate my growing collection of songs and photos
2. An iPhone sound dock with remote control
3. A digital photo frame, preferably in plain white or black  like the Sony DPF-D72
4. An instant film camera ie. a polaroid camera like the Fuijifilm Instax Mini 7S
5. Chanel Chance Eau Tendre (wanna try this)  or DKNY Woman Eau de Parfum (running out)
6. Sephora gift cards – because you can be assured I’ll find something to buy in there
7. MAC gift cards – I can already think of what to get: brushes 217 and 116, Groundwork paint pot, eye colours, more lipsticks…
8. Traincase to fit my dresser – I hate rummaging through my makeup pouch especially when I’m already running late
9. BORDERS or Kinokuniya gift cards – I’m expanding my empire!

I guess there’s nothing else in particular that I REALLY MUST HAVE at this moment in time. I know right – what’s wrong with me?! My wishlist is so generic….so boring! I didn’t even make it to 10.

If you haven’t already noticed, I’m big on gift cards and vouchers. Some people think they’re very impersonal, that it means you haven’t given enough thought about what to get someone. I happen to think the gift of choice is a splendid one. If you’re unsure of what to get someone, let her choose! Isn’t it more awesome like that?

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Just because.

I want to get a:

1. bookshelf – my poor books don’t have a home,
2. shoe rack and clear shoe boxes – my mom has been complaining that my shoes take the most space on the common family shoe rack,
3. new coat of paint for my bedroom walls – still undecided on which colour to go with, but nothing bright and cheery (yeah I’m like that),
4. new macbook pro – my first gen macbook pro has got to go because it’s a first gen and probably a hundred in human years, so you can imagine how    s    l    o    w    it is,
5. new compact camera – well the dslr can’t possibly fit into a teeny weeny handbag, can it?

Some good mews.

Ok so the good news is that Meow is back home earlier than we expected.

Dr Gloria says her blood sugar levels were consistently on the safe side for two days in a row, so it’s unlikely that she’s diabetic. But I don’t like the word ‘unlikely’. It resides in the grey area where although you’re sort of happy that it is unlikely, the possibility still nags at you because you still can’t rule it out. Stress can induce a hike in blood sugar levels, so it could’ve been possible Meow’s sugar levels were fluctuating in the first few days she was hospitalised because of that.

She never ate at all while she was there, so naturally we were worried that she’d refuse to eat even back home. While we later striked that off our worry list because her appetite proved to be as voracious as before, it’s still a cause for concern because increased hunger and thirst are symptoms of diabetes. Remember that grey area?

Her liver is hopefully getting better, with medication. It’s a terribly mean feat, feeding Meow her meds. To effectively do this and not get anybody hurt in the process, we need three people. One to hold her body and front legs, one to secure her hind legs, and one to feed her the medication with a syringe. It’s one noisy and messy affair.

We’ll pay a visit to Dr Gloria again to run some follow-up tests once the meds run out. Hopefully it’s good news again, because it’s such a pitiful sight seeing your pet confined to a cage, on a drip and reeking of pee.

I had a dream.

I had a bad dream. I woke up, digested it…and I started crying.

So that’s how it feels like to be told the someone you love has a few more months to live.

Meow may be a cat, but to me she’s practically human. I talk to her, and she talks to me. She greets me at the door when I come home. She sleeps next to me. When I’m feeling low, I stroke her and listen to her purr, and I’ll feel better.

Prior to this dream, I never really grasped the reality of it — the degree of seriousness of it all. I didn’t want to think negative thoughts. I just pictured Meow better. A healthy, happy, long-living Meow.

But this dream made me break down.

It’s just a dream, yes, but the likelihood of this dream becoming reality is high, god help me. Because even if it was ruled out that she’s diabetic, her liver and pancreas are in bad shape. That I’d be hearing the same words I heard from the vet in my dream is very, very real.

Dear God, I know you’re listening.

Please give us good news.

The worst rollercoaster in the world.

So this is how it feels to have an almost immediate family member be in critical condition. This is how it feels to have your emotions played out like a rollercoaster ride.

I couldn’t thank god enough when the vet, Dr Gloria, called yesterday morning with good news: Meow’s sugar levels had gone down significantly. This had meant that it was highly unlikely for her to have diabetes because if it weren’t the case, her sugar levels wouldn’t have gone down so quickly. But they did another round of tests in the afternoon, and the results showed that it had spiked up two units above normal level. She might have diabetes after all.

And then today, the vet called yet again, this time with good news: her sugar levels had dropped to normal level again. I can breathe again. For today.

I’m trying my best to remain positive. There’s still a chance that she isn’t diabetic, and I’m hanging on desperately to that glimmer of chance. Because with diabetes out of the way, we can concentrate on her liver and pancreas problems. And Dr Gloria says if the liver isn’t too far damaged, it can regenerate.

I’m hoping for the best.

–

We visited Meow yesterday, and it was heartbreaking to see her on a drip, paw bandaged, sitting quietly in her cage in a room full of noisy dogs. We called her name numerous times and stroked her, but she chose to look at the wall. She stole a glance while we were talking among ourselves, but when we made eye contact, she abruptly turned back to the wall. For the whole hour we were there, we didn’t even get to hear her voice. I can only imagine what’s going on inside her head, and the trauma and suffering she’s going through.

Simply refused to look at us.

Ever seen a cat on drip? Heartwrenching.

While Meow was awfully quiet, this lil’ fella  in the cage beside her was meowing and pleading so he won’t get castrated. Poor little Sausage. Just look at those eyes. Tell me, isn’t your heart breaking?

–

Oh Meow, please stay strong.

Heartbroken.

As I type this, my baby Meow is lying in a foreign place, probably unable to sleep and terrified out of her wits, jumping at every single unfamiliar sound. She is probably on a drip right now, huddled in the safest corner of the cage that is prison to her, with no inkling as to why she is weak, and why the very people who have cared for her put her there and is wishing and hoping that this nightmare will soon end.

We received not one, not two — but three blows from the vet this morning. Meow has confirmed liver and pancreas problems. And on top of that she might even be diabetic, in which case if she does turn out to be, she’ll have to be on medication for the rest of her life.

Somehow, I think that’s just too much for a cat to handle.

I can’t bear to think of a helpless animal sick, what more my own baby.

We’re told this is going to set us back approximately a hefty eight hundred dollars, and that’s just for two nights of hospitalisation and tests. But Meow is our joy, our responsibility — and I’d part with that much money and more for her, without a heartbeat.

I just hope it isn’t too late for her to get well.

Dear God please let her be well.

A bashing three-zero.

It was such a thrill to plan a surprise birthday party for the boyfriend’s 30th. It’s even more thrilling that it was a success! I was so nervous that day I might’ve accidentally given away some clues but oh, you should’ve seen the look on his face when the lights went on and the confetti, popped.

It was a collabo between his closest friends and colleagues and I, and I really have to thank Shima, Khai, Zai and Abas for helping to materialise my plans for him to have a very special 30th birthday, one he won’t ever forget.

It’s heartwarming how willing his friends are when it comes to him.  Zai was made to cross-dress and dance to a cabaret song, and although he was understandably reluctant at first, he agreed to it in the end, all in the name of this big-hearted man named Muhamad Fazli Bin Muhamad Zaidi. Poor thing though – Zai’s stage name, “Cherry”, will probably stick to him like a parasite for a long time.

And it’s not just Zai who was willing – his other friends, too. The planning was tedious, no doubt, but the people part of it was a breeze.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given that one of his best attributes is just how really likeable he is. There are a lot of things I could actually learn from him.

Happy 30th birthday, love. If you ever forget just how special you are, watch the videos and look through the photos of your 30th birthday again, and you’ll remember.

photo by Shafiee Benjamin