Month: January 2013

5 Quotes to be inspired by in 2013: Quote #1

I gave up on writing a new year resolution. There’s always a thought that accompanies a new year resolution, which is ‘It’s OK if I don’t achieve it’. Nevertheless, in commemoration of a beautiful date (1.1.13) I’m going to join the bandwagon, but slightly in a different way.

Look, I have always liked one-liner stuff – it’s easy on my forgetful head, so for this year, I am going to keep reminding myself of these quotes:

If you are ugly at forty, it’s your fault.

Unfortunately, I could not provide you with the exact quote, neither could I give you the person who said it. It is something I’ve read a long time ago – and somehow found it to make sense.

I am in no-way a beauty by our society’s standard, it is a no brainer really, but not that I care much about it.  I always find many people around me beautiful just because they present themselves well, take care of their health, and make an effort to appear nice, apart from their inner beauty which is most essential.

Touching on the physical side of beauty, I would say that if we take good care of our health, it shows. Good skin, good posture, all of those count.

That is why I am going back on the healthy track this year, well, after long living on sugar and carbo and everything that could fill my ever hungry tummy (oh well, I am a nursing mommy, remember?)




Let me tell you that I am guilty as charged for not working out. I have stopped exercising 2 months into pregnancy, and that’s like more than a year ago. With Isa getting more mobile each day, I know I need to catch up soon.

I am just lucky that I don’t have problem with my weight, but I know my body fat level is still a big issue. For the time being I am gonna KIV that, because I am still nursing ad there are days when I’m not able to eat enough so I suppose my fat reserve will be disturbed by that, no?

So this year, I aim to improve my fitness level by:

  1. Aiming to hit the gym twice a week, 30 minutes each.Minimum. Lucky that the clubhouse of my apartment has a fitness center regardless of how humble it is. Husband agrees to babysit Isa, so it really depends on me. The only feasible time would be after work ( I reach home at 7pm on average) and on weekends.
  2. Finding a new spot for walking, so that I can get Isa involved as well. We live next to a recreation park in a forest reserve, but I doubt if it suitable to bring Isa there. There’s another within 10minutes drive – FRIM which I love, but it is I think RM 3 per entry, which I think my husband will detest. Need to talk to him about this plan though.


Though I still receive remarks that I look younger than my age ( to which I normally answer with ‘Marry a younger man, he’ll keep you young!’), but I know there are plenty that I need to work on. I rarely have acne (thanks to the good gene), but age spots are getting more visible each day! So this year I promise myself I will:

  1. Drink 3L of plain water per day. Really back to basic stuff which I fail to do. I need more than 2L since I am still nursing so yeah, bring it on!
  2. Cut down on caffeine AND sugar. I know these two will somehow take their toll on me. Sugar makes me age more rapidly. Maybe I should start by cutting down my dose of coffee to one cup per day and switch to tea (preferably green tea) for an alternative until I can totally get the strength to refuse them altogether….If I ever could that is. Also to cut down sweet stuff like cakes/muffins and such to once a week (OK, now I am about to cry!) too.
  3. Go back to basic skincare regime. Cleanse then moisturise. Day AND night. Exfoliate if necessary (I am trying baking soda, have I told you that?). And yes, I am following the advice of the supermodel Iman on not skipping the sunscreen. And I need to moisturise my hands as well. They are becoming terribly ugly and wrinkly thanks to the office aircond. Pfftt.
  4. Take time to pamper myself. Once-a-week dose of face mask, whole body scrub- anything but the baseline showering I have daily –regardless of how hard Isa’s screaming.


It is true that I have simplified my wardrobe, which now mostly consists of black abayas, but it doesn’t mean I should appear gloomy all the time. I am definitely not out there trying to attract attention or whatever, but I feel that it is important to present myself decently, as I am carrying the image of a Muslim, a wife, and a mother – and I hope a good one at those.

  1. Get myself made up every morning. Get rid of the panda-eyed, sleep-deprived-mommy look.
  2. Wake up and dress up. Even if it’s Saturday or Sunday for that matter. I have two sets of eyes looking at me. For Isa, I am indirectly influencing his perception on how a female should look like, and I want him to have the very best image of me – not the messy mommy. And the other set of eyes, well, he’s a guy. That sums up what he will typically look for, and since he is legally bound to look ONLY at me, it is just fair that I should make the effort.

Others that count:

  • Cutting down on red meat intake. And other meats as well. I have thought about buying organic meat, but I am yet to start searching for it. It even crosses my mind being vegan, but my husband is not into it so I supposed for the time being, finding as many as organic alternatives would be best. Despite the higher price.
  • More veggies and fruits. Can’t believe I still have to write this down.
  • Go get the free health screening offered by my employer. After 3 years of working, I am still to use this benefit.
  • Take calcium! My bones are already rotting by now, probably.

Those are what I could think of for the time being.

Let’s get healthy and moving!


Isa’s Moving Forward…Commando Style!

I have mentioned before than for quite sometimes Isa has been able to move only backward, left and right, but recently he has mastered the art of moving forward – he is now creepy/commando crawling at seven and half months old!

At first he didn’t move forward much, but now I know what will make him move a few metres – it’s ME! Yes, it’s the separation anxiety again.

But here’s a video of him playing in the breastfeeding room in his creche, when I came to nurse him during lunch time last week.

And yes, that pink pants aren’t ours. It’s the creche’s, since his was soiled with no more spare left.

Keep Calm and…

It has only been two weeks into the new year, but I am already exhausted.

There are many times in a day where I have to tell myself to keep calm, and to constantly remind myself that I am bigger than anything else that’s trying to bury me down.

My husband has moved to a new department, lo and behold, he’s gonna have a pretty busy time there. My husband has a choice, or in fact choices on which departments he’d like to move to after his old department is closed, and we both agree that him being busy for the time being is alright, for his learning.

He’s sitting for a professional accounting & finance exam looking for that chartered accountant title so he’d need all the trainings. But that will mean terrible hours of working.

It is not just about his working hours. The problem is with mine as well – with more years of experience comes more trust and responsibility. But the setting is different for me now. I am a wife and a mother. I could definitely chase the excellent rating at the end of the year but at whose expense? And if I were to go for less than excellent, is there a loophole for me? I could not bear going less than alright. I don’t even know what does that mean.

What makes it harder is the fact that I am doing what I like. My  job scope  this year is very interesting (I am not gonna bore you with the details, though) but me being passionate and it being interesting is not enough to make me happy.

Yesterday proved to be too much to handle. I had to bring Isa to the prayer room and played with him there until my husband arrived, which was an hour later than usual thanks to the terrible traffic just over the 2km distance between our offices. We finally arrived home at 8pm, 150 minutes past my working hours.

That’s too much.

I could not bear looking at his innocent face when we were waiting for the father.

This is not right.

A little child like him, being left to a caregiver for 8 hours and yet to be home, in a familiar place, after almost 12 hours away.
I knew he was restless.

I could not recall when was the last time I read for him (last week was even worse, FYI).
I could not recall on which weekday we could actually calmly play together at home.

He spent two hours daily in a car, where his movements are restricted.
His sleep is often interrupted, following our crazy schedule of leaving home by 7.30am daily.
He reaches home when it is almost his bedtime.

Tell me, how much quality time could we have together?
I don’t buy the bullshit about how quality is better than quantity when the power to change and add both the quantity and quality is in my hand.
My very hand.

I love this job, for God’s sake, but this is too much.

And hence, I am giving myself one year.

Just one year, God willing.