I want YOU back.

The YOU
who put my hand on his heart
and said
“My heart beats for you.”

The YOU
who would stare so awkwardly into my eyes
and bore right through to my heart
just to see if you were the only man in there.

The YOU
who never failed to whip out your Zippo
the moment I put a cig to my lips
like how a (smoking) gentleman would.

The YOU
who used to always
say “I love you”
while keeping your eyes locked with mine.

The YOU
who was always
patient, loving, understanding
nary a raised note at me.

The YOU
who wrapped your arms around me
smell my hair
and tell me “You smell so good”.

The YOU
whose heart shattered
so audibly
each time I shed a tear.

The YOU
who sang sappy emo slow rock love songs
for my ears only,
because you knew I love them.

Where are you??

I don’t know who you are, but I’m with you.
Even if I wanted to pry myself away
from this train-wreck of emotions
I can’t.

You said you know
which buttons to press
so I’d turn into your lovely obedient wife.
So why don’t you just do it?

I don’t want to rebel.
I just want to happily comply.
Can’t you please
just make me go your way?

I want to be good for you,
be the perfect one
like the way you were for me.
What went wrong?

Fuck.
I hate wanting to better myself for someone else.
I hate feeling like I’m not worthy.
I hate missing you so badly.

And the worst
out of all this…
I hate loving someone this much.
I hate loving YOU so fucking much.

Everyone has a bit of darkness.

I’m still wondering what fueled me to head to Lau Pa Sat at some odd hour of the night to meet someone for supper.

I guess this just isn’t enough. Being confined within four walls bulk of the time. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the children (most of the time), it’s just that… hey, mommy needs some breathing space too.

But when I was enjoying the cool breeze and quietness on the desolated streets of the CBD area, there it was again – the silent fear of loneliness. It was as if I was back in mid-2004, feeling like I was all alone in the world with no one to hold onto or to back me up. Those were bleak days. Throw in a bastard boyfriend who had countless acts of infidelity and violence, it was me against the world. Oh, sad days. I was smoking at least 60 cigarettes a day back then.

There were the few shining stars though. Shaf, Vic, Reuben… Yeah, I know, I didn’t really hang well with chicks. But even then, that feeling was stronger than ever.

Then September 2004, a new chapter of my life. The man. OMFG I still hyperventilate when I recall the first time we met. *blush*

I still don’t know what was it about him that made my heart palpitate so, but here we are, just celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary on 2 days ago.

Yet… that streak of darkness never seems to go away for good. It’s just always quietly sitting inside me, waiting for that window of opportunity to snarl at me. At least now I have a permanent refuge. In his arms.

When he bade me to play in his secret garden, he had meant it for life. The one and only key, just for me. In his arms is where home is.

I just wish there was more time to just be together and not bogged down by domestic responsibilities. But I know: At least I found The One, and he loves me for all my imperfections. My knight in shining armor, he’s the only one who seems to chase my demons away when I need him to. But with great power comes great responsibility, he can probably single-handedly cause my complete and utter downfall.

Happy 5th Feb, sweets. Thank you for always being here for me. I might not always seem like I appreciate it, but you know I do.

I love you.

It’s not me, it’s you.

Joshua looked on with amazement as I tilted my head back and gargled noisily. I asked him if he would like to learn.

Josh (nodding furiously) : “Yah!!”
Me: “Say, ‘teach me’.”
Josh: “Teach you.”
Me: “No no no. Teach me.”
Josh (indignantly):  “Yaaa. Teach you!”
Me: “Say ‘teach Joshua’.”
Josh: “Teach me!!”

iPengz.

Why Pronunciation is Important.

A follow-up to the previous “car-pai-dur” episode, today Joshua nearly made me fall off the couch when we were watching “My Friends: Tigger & Pooh” together while eating cereal.

First, he mimicked the puppy’s barking “Woa woa! Woa woa!” Then he raised his eyebrows – puzzled by his own thoughts – and said: “Work work? Puppy go work????”

And as he always does, he giggled at himself.

Then it was time to solve the mystery, so Darby said “Time to slap (on) my cap!” Joshua, like a parrot on a mission, repeated: “Time slap cat! Slap cat!! MEOW!!”

I had to tell him to repeat “cat” after me, emphasising on the “t” and then “cap” emphasising on the “p”. Then in an almost worldly-wise manner, he said: “Oh… Yay! More cereal??”

Car-pai-dur.

You know, I think he really hears himself saying “computer” instead of the “car-pai-dur” that we’re hearing.

Poor boy, he’s inherited the father’s short tongue.

You’ll never know…

how it feels like to have a little bit of you die, each time it happens.
Until the wounds have cut so repeatedly
and so thoroughly
that the flesh feels completely numb –
devoid of shame, regret, or disappointment.
Until it all just feels so disturbingly comforting.
Yet, the frustration never ever goes away.

What’s here yesterday will still be here tomorrow,
and the day after,
and the day after,
and the day after,
and the day after…
until someone makes it go away.

You never get that.
I never felt you did anyway.

For the millionth time, I ask myself
“Why ever the fuck do I even bother anymore?”

Only to hear my own voice resonating
“Because I need to.”

But you’ll never know what that feels like.

My life…
it’s such a joke.

I wish I could drink til I puked.
All the sad stuff into the sewage.
I wish.

Progress much?

It seems natural that through the years, people progress. But for each step everyone else takes forward, it seems as though I’m only going two steps back.

Most of my peers are now earning enough to qualify for credit cards. I haven’t found a single one who doesn’t.
Almost all the females have at least one luxury brand bag.
They have credentials in their CV.
They’ve all progressed somewhere in some sense.

But me?

Six years ago I was shopping predominantly from Zara.
Three years ago, it became Dorothy Perkins.
Now, Cotton On is the only store that I can afford anything from.
Even then, I have to think twice, thrice, before I buy anything.

Not only have I not progressed in any sense, I’ve regressed.

I’ve not gained anything over the years;
except maybe a wee bit of parenting wisdom and a sprinkling of coerced maturity.
But the tangible stuff? Virtually nada.

It’s come to a point where dreams have died, and there isn’t even any will left to dream.
The future looks bleak, as though it’s just going to spiral downwards to further regression.
Logically, my life doesn’t look like it’s ever going to get better.
Not with the 2 kids, and the amount of money required to upkeep them as they get older.

Like how Keegan loves jumping, and how much I want to get a jumperoo for him, but we really can’t work out the finances to get it. And how Joshua saw the ad for Hong Kong Disneyland while watching Playhouse Disney, and asked if we could go see Mickey. I could only tell him we’re trying our hardest to bring him there. It makes me want to cry just thinking about it.

Someone asked me what I want for my birthday this year. I could only think of two things:
a) Creative Vado HD – so I have a decent videocam to film the kids’ antics.
b) an upright chest freezer to store my breastmilk

It’s not that I no longer hanker for pretty things all fashion. It’s just that… *sigh* What’s the point? I’m just confined here within these four walls 99% of the time anyway. Nobody even gets to see my mop of hair except for the mama-shop owner (and the other shops we have to walk past to get to the mama-shop.)

The blog categories “Food Fiesta”, “Great Getaways” and “Orgasmic Obsessions”… They’ve had no input for the longest time. I no longer want to obsess about anything, since they mostly end up being empty dreams anyway, and I have no idea when the next “great getaway” will come. As for food, if it fills us up, it’s a meal.

It was really not nice hearing from someone that Batam is a disgusting place to go for a holiday. Why didn’t we go to Japan or Australia or something. But to me, Batam was the greatest ever. We didn’t have to worry about stuff being too expensive, and I didn’t have to go home wishing I was the proud owner of a new something-something. It was all laidback with no worries. Everything was within what we could afford, and that felt great.

Maybe I’ve learnt to settled for whatever I can get, or maybe I just don’t know good from bad anymore.

I only know, dreams just stay as dreams, until my good Lord works His wonders. If there’s anything that He has taught me well over the years, it would be patience. I’m still no expert at it, but at least I now know how to wait.

Shalom, my Lord told me. And Shalom it shall be. He says my time will come. Now’s just the storm, and after it, all will be calm and gorgeous with a rainbow in the sky.

Driving me up the wall!

It was never my intention for two small children to share a bedroom. NEVER.

Because at just 31 months old, Joshua hasn’t got a full grasp on being quiet and how not to disturb the baby while he is sleeping. So him, being the avid pillow lover he is, stole Keegan’s pillow whilst it was being used, causing the baby to wake up and scream. Then leading to a ear piercing screamfest that lasted over 30 minutes. Simply because he was so tired, he didn’t know how to quietly go back to sleep anymore.

Josh was barely able to withstand the screaming. But like what my mother would say, “Orh bi good!” You wake the baby, you live with the screaming. Downside was, we all had to tahan the same screaming.

I swear there was a split second where my sanity was going to crack.

So like I was saying, there’s no part of room-sharing that actually sounds like a good idea. Especially when they’re both this small. And Keegan is a lone ranger when it comes to sleeping. No noise, no lights, no disturbance please.

Then when they get bigger, the concern of room-sharing would be that they would stay up late and play all night instead of sleeping.

OhDearLordPleaseGiveMeANewHomeWithEnoughRoomsAndSpaceToGoAround.

The Reason why parents don’t tell kids everything.

Josh woke up sulking badly from “armpit itchy”, promptly sauntered to me – who was in the most unglamorous, yet necessary, activity of breastpumping – and demanded for powder.

Suddenly his eyes beamed.

“Pump milk?” he asked.
“Yes, mommy’s pumping.”
“Shua-shua drink? Milk?” And just in case I was too thick to understand, he showed me the hand signs for “drink” and “milk”.
“Erm… This is for tomorrow morning when you wake up.”
“Mommy… pleaseeeeee?”

Sigh. And what could I say. The milk’s for drinking anyway.

So together we went to the bathroom, coated both his armpits (for equality’s sake) with glorious Snake Brand prickly heat powder, as well as onto his neck. Then off he went with 200ml of my fresh produce to guzzle on.

And here I am left pondering. About why I taught him about all these things in our daily lives, like lip balm, powder, body creams, breastpumps, mommy’s milk and the powerful six-letter word: PLEASE. So that he could bug me for them at an ungodly 2.30am?! Sheesh.

I swear children are secretly such highly developed little beings that once they pick up something new, you should never expect them to behave the same way again.

Now I am even more determined to never let him discover that we have a Wii in the house. Well, maybe I will. When he’s 10 or something, and the Wii has gone out of fashion.

Public Pee

Before I forget:

Josh attempted his first pee in a public loo – because he didn’t pee before going out – at the MacDonald’s near our place on 13 January 2010.

Hubs said it wasn’t without a fair amount of screaming the moment the loo door was closed and locked. But at least he peed after he calmed down slightly. YAY! But he is still a tad short to use an adult-sized toilet, so Hubs will be bringing him to a kid-sized toilet when we hit town, just to “test water”.

Next, to conquer the “big business” at home…