Once upon a time, she designed buildings and interiors of corporate offices and on the rare occasion, homes. Now, she cleans poop and is student of a patience management course. From the drawing board as a London Architect to the realities of Motherhood, she has certainly learned many lessons in humility. And then others.....
To succeed in the corporate world, first succeed with your kid as the happy boss. Seriously.
This blog is about Mamapumpkin: A crazy, demented Mom who cares full time, alone, without any help, for an even crazier preschooler AND a baby with a boob addiction problem.
She writes anything that comes out of her head, mostly without thinking first, which almost always gets her into trouble (according to her husband, whom she considers the love of her life.......on a good day).
Her 2 pet monkeys drive her towards challenge after challenge, 24/7. Day after Day.....and by the way, her parents are Muslim, her in-laws Buddhist, she's Catholic and her Hubs, an Atheist. She's thinking her kids should be Hindu, just to complete the rainbow religion cycle.
Gotta love it.
She'd love to hear from you : Mamapumpkin at gmail dot com
For those who don’t know the Hubs and I, the story goes that I single-handedly picked him out from a sea of eligible, good-looking men, and scanned him from top to toe, inside and out, inerts and all; before I went ALL OUT TOMAKE HIM MINE!!! And just so you know, when I want something bad enough, I become very focused with a single-minded purpose and am very, VERY determined. I even made sure all the stars and the sun and the moon said we were perfectly compatible before I set out on my mission.
Of course, I got him.
Did you expect anything less?
12 years later, not a thing has changed. Except we’re both a little fatter and we now have kids. And a lot more stress on our plate. Do I still love him? More than ever. Do I still find him sexy? TOTALLY.
He is the perfect father, one I have always dreamed of having myself, and a fantastic husband. He doesn’t have boys nights out on a regular basis and doesn’t have external hobbies which take him away from us, his family. He is totally devoted to the girls and works damn hard just so we can have the best of everything; and from everything he earns, it all goes to us. Nothing for him. That’s love. He also doesn’t have vices that I need to stress out and worry about. He can hold his drink, he doesn’t gamble, he doesn’t smoke. He’s not into excessive porn, he’s not an embarrassment in public, he’s not a ladies man. All in all, he’s quite level-headed.
So if there is one thing that I’d have to pick about him that irks me, it’d be the fact that he is male. One hundred percent male. ALL MALE species are like that. Except for the more emotional, effeminate types. And the GAY men (of whom I love…..and the Hubs stays away from because he’s been hit on on several occasions to the point his butt crack squeezed so fast and tight, he could have shot out a bullet and killed someone at low level).
One of the differences between male and female is that females love to talk, and complain (assuming there is something to moan about). And when they do, males tend to want to solve their problems hence offering solutions. Which isn’t what the females want at all. They just want someone to listen. Do you agree?
I look forward every night for the Hubs to come home and take over. I appreciate him for the endless work that he does, having to wake at 6am to get T1 ready for school and then take her to school only to come home after work to start his night job till midnight. It’s exhausting! But I’m exhausted too.
Tonight, after an entire week of never-ending tiredness and stress – baby T2 waking every few hours, the in-laws were in town, the washing machine broke down, the apartment upstairs is leaking big time into our kitchen, T1′s incessant demands, T2′s PERSISTENT demands, I’m spent. I’m MORE than spent. I want to cry. I’m completely numb. I cannot move. I have no one to talk to apart from the 4 walls and 2 kids.
So tonight, I told him that I wanted to share my feelings with him and seriously, I didn’t want a solution. I was just feeling very STONED and needed to LET IT OUT. I just wanted someone to hear me out. I didn’t need pity nor a hug nor a solution. I just wanted to talk.
But the first thing that came out of his mouth was the wrong answer.
TACKKKKKKKK!!!!!!! WRONG ANSWER!!! FAIL!!!!
Which completely spoilt my mood and made me blew my top. Why can’t men just LISTEN for once and stop offering solutions???!!!!! I am an intelligent woman. I can resolve my own problems. I just wanted someone to hear me TALK. Is that so hard???
Unfortunately for me, the Hubs never wears ties if he can help it. Buying mens gifts are so difficult. Their wardrobes are so basic and the only thing I can think of getting them are mens ties, socks or cuff links; and the Hubs already doesn’t wear two out of three. If a man wore ties, I could add a great tie to his collection at every Christmas; but if he doesn’t? We just have to crack our brains to be more creative with presents!
I get sinus and asthma attacks on a daily basis now due to the dustiness of my house. It’s incredible!!! I just want to die!!! Yet, the Hubs insist that we cannot afford to get a helper right now, not even a part-time helper and that he will clean the house. But he doesn’t clean it clean enough simply because there isn’t enough time to do everything!!! We have 2 demanding girls and it’s always a juggle between cleaning and catering to the kids. So meanwhile, I’m just using boxes of tissues and lots of Ventolin inhalers. Now, you tell me, is he being penny-wise pound foolish?
Ever since my childhood friend brought pole dancing to Malaysia, naturally I was encouraged to give it a go except that at the time until recently, the timing was just not right. I was either pregnant or busy with a newborn or had stitches in private places or was struck with a phobia of phallic objects in between my legs. Seriously, phallic objects in between your legs can cause the greatest of torture in the form of babies and kids. For a moment of pleasure, I am unsure if the surrender is worth it.
Nevertheless, pole dancing in Malaysia has been moving from strength to strength and getting more and more popular to the point I now have friends who have their own poles in their houses for practice! I was told that it was the BEST way to lose weight as so much strength and stamina is required to hold your own weight whilst manouvering a great big phallic pole. That certainly attracted me – the lose weight part, not the playing with poles.
So I asked the Hubs today if I should start pole dancing classes with my friend soon…..
His reply?
“YOU??? Pole-dance? You’re gonna need a water pipe, babe…..”
And the 2 of us burst into hysterics. He is right. I’ll probably break the pole with my thunder thighs.
Well, Happy Mother’s Day to me. *sobs quietly in corner*
So the Hubs has been nagging and nagging and rubbing it in like a million times over, how I deserve to feel like a rotten potato after my night out. No shit. I am no longer a spring chicken, he keeps reminding me. Enough already!
On Sunday, I slept all day whilst the Hubs played ‘Mommy’ – what a darling, bless him. I was so, so tired from 6 hours of partying and surely it was because I had to wake up to feed Tee after I returned at 3am and not because I came home at 3am that I was feeling under the weather. I was asthmatic, my nose started running and basically, I couldn’t get out of bed. Not even if you told me there was a Godiva hot chocolate waiting for me in the kitchen or that the Talibans were attacking any moment now. Bah.
I felt that crap.
Perhaps going out once a fortnight is a tad ambitious. I’m not even sure if I can do once a month. Wait. I was just invited for a ladies night out next month but it’s not a wild night out, just dinner, so that should be plenty safe.
Monday, I am still struggling but a bit better. The energy is slowly building……
One thing that irritates me about Tee’s school is the way cars and their respective drivers rule the road as though their grandfathers built them. These people, they practise their driving skills as though it was a bumper car ride outside the school. What more, there is no vehicular discipline at all. Cars just go everywhere and there is no enforcer. Soon enough, I am about to write a letter making this complaint but just haven’t had a chance to do it yet. Just last week, the Hubs got knocked by a swanky Audi with a Singaporean number plate. When he got down, the young mother innocently asked, “Oh….did I knock you?” She was dead lucky the Hubs did not smash her face as it would have been unsightly in front of all those school going children. That reminds me, I better request for those auto insurance quotes soon that the Hubs has asked me to get.
If you don’t already know, GODIVA has reached our shores……the shores of KLCC beside Harrods on the 1st floor. The first time I ever had Godiva was when my mother in law handed me a piece – a single, miserable piece of chocolate jewel that I treasured with every drop of saliva and didn’t dare ask for seconds. After all, she kept them under lock and key in her little fridge upstairs which till today I’m still hoping to break into.
The 2nd time I had Godiva was when we were in New York. This time, I could buy my own Godiva and I savoured every piece. Last month, the Hubs bought RM500 worth of Godiva and when I saw those plush, white Godiva paper bags, I started feeling romantic. And excited, like a puppy wagging its tail.
“They’re not for you.” WHAT???!!!
How could he afford to spend so much money on others but not his own family?! They’re for business, he says. Excuse me, but I run a business too. I run a blog business and I run a business of bringing up children and keeping a sane household. And what about the many businesses I have up the pipeline? Oh, but we’re in the same business, honey. We’re on the same side……
Bah. I’d rather be on the other side then.
A week later, the Hubs brought back another box of Godiva and although he had planned it for someone else, I begged him to let us share it. That night, we were happy campers. They were so divine. When I mentioned that Tee would absolutely love it, the Hubs said no. No? No. Tee was not allowed to taste this Heavenly Godiva chocolate. He didn’t want to spoil her. If she wanted Godiva, she could wait till she could afford it herself. Oh?…..Poor Tee.
So last week, dearest Tok-Tok after his trip from abroad bought Nana some Godiva. Nana, being Nana, didn’t even know what Godiva was (*smack my own head*) so I told Nana that they were the most delicious chocolate available in KL, but please don’t give Tee any because the Hubs didn’t want to let her have a taste of it, because once she’s tried it, she wouldn’t want any other chocolate but Godiva! And he sure wasn’t going to buy her Godiva.
“OH???!!!” exclaimed a wide eyed Nana. “Here you go, darling. This is for you!!!” she handed the entire box of chocolates to Tee. That afternoon, Tee and I lay lazily on our backs on Nana’s bed like Godiva Queens, savouring Godiva chocolate, piece after piece, nibble by nibble, and boy, were we in cloud Godiva………
So last night was THE DAY. Everything was planned to perfection and of course, I’ve told you many a time that every time I do that, perfection gets chopped and crushed into a million pieces. In a blender.
I had brought out a dress. A DRESS!!! Since I’ve always had T2 by my side, I’ve never been able to wear a dress. So last night, since I wasn’t going to breastfeed for a few hours, the dress came out from hibernation. I was planning to wear make up!
My appointment was 8pm.
7pm – I had the girls on track. Tee was in her PJ’s, finished her dinner, brushed her teeth. I had showered but not gotten dressed. I figured it’d take me, what? 10 minutes? T2 started her boob.
7.30pm – the Hubs arrived home and T2 was still on the boob. She refused to get off the nipple (she just liked playing, especially when she knew Mommy was going out! I had primed her the entire day, you see?) but I told myself, another 15 more minutes and boob and baby lips get a divorce. That’s it. Cut.
7.45pm – I pulled the boob out and T2 started crying, “Mommy!!! Please don’t leave me!!! I’m still a little BABYYYYY!!!!” I ignored her cries and screwed the dress. Threw on some jeans and a top, no time for make up as I had to pack my wallet etc into a handbag (wow! I got to use a handbag! It’d have been silly if I’d carried the diaper bag without a baby, right?).
Then mother of all mothers, Tee runs out clinging on to me with her Tamil movie stunt crying, “Mommy, please don’t go out….*SOB-SOB* I really don’t want you to go, Mommy….PLEASSSSSSEEEEE….!!!” *she chokes on her sobs* “MOMMY!!! PLEASE DON’T GOOOOO!!!!” All this whilst T2 was crying and the newly showered Hubs was trying to pacify her. I couldn’t bring myself to leave him with TWO crying girls (AREN’T. I. SO. KIND???) so I screamed at Tee to change her clothes and follow me out, despite the fact that she had school the next day. You should have seen the GLEE on her face! Of course, she was so happy after that that she kept asking questions – what shall I wear? where are we going? will there be kids there? Blablablablablabla…..and of course, she got shouted at for spoiling my plan and I told her that this trip out with me was NOT going to be fun and that she was NOT allowed to talk AT ALL and that she was possibly going to REGRET following me out.
The Hubs looked confused as things were happening so fast but managed a plead, “Why don’t you take the BABY out instead???” You wish!
We were out the door in a flash. Fast forward…..I had a great time. Tee had a great time (there were kids there). At 10pm, still no phone call. I smsed the Hubs for a status check. He said the baby was sleeping in his arms. My breasts were starting to fill up so I dragged Tee home from her new playmates and headed home.
As I opened the front door, I saw the cloud of anxiety lift off his shoulders. After putting Tee to bed, the Hubs handed me the baby and said he was going to knock off. WHAT?? It was only 10.30pm!!! I demanded that he was on duty till midnight but he shook his head claiming that it was extremely stressful staying home with a fully breastfed baby without Mommy’s boobs. And that he really needed to sleep! *shakes head*
The poor man…..for a whole 2 hours, every single muscle in his body was tensed and he kept reciting to baby like a mantra, “Please don’t cry – please don’t cry – please don’t cry – please don’t cry…..”
And she didn’t! But he had stressed himself out so much that he was EXHAUSTED.
T2 was amazing. She never cried and she took the bottle.
SHE TOOK THE BOTTLE!!!!
Was that so hard? Why was he so exhausted then? Men…..
Anyways. We all know what this means, don’t we? Now that T2 can stay home without Mommy……….*BIG WINK*
I told the Hubs that no amount of money could ever reward me for the pregnancy I had to go through with T2 but since I am such a nice wife, I’d settle for a pair of Christian Louboutin shoes. My friends say I should demand for a new rock at minimum! So he should really be grateful that I am not so demanding. The reason I love them is purely for their red soles which are oh, so seductive. Their designs are pretty seductive too! Not that I have the body for it, but I’d like to own a pair anyway…….let alone a few pairs *hee*
The Hubs said that he’d take my Chanel shoes and paint the back soles red for me. o_O
Now, if you know me, you’ll know that those kind of comments only drive me to a little rage. So……whilst I have a think about my Christmas wish list (which certainly MUST include a brand new Blackberry, except that I cannot decide which one – the current Blackberry Bold 9000 or the coming Blackberry Bold 9700? My dearest Celcom and Maxis friends out there, can you please make me a recommendation? 9000 or 9700?), I told the Hubs that I’ll put the CL shoes on hold but I’ll get them MADE instead. See? I’m learning from Tee. The Hubs has been training her that we should always make our own things to save money.
Tonight, I shall be visiting a shoemaker to show him what I want above except that I want it with a Mary-Jane strap but haven’t decided where to put the Mary-Jane strap. What do you think?
Should I have the strap higher towards the ankles or nearer the toes?
So whilst I am out at the shoemakers tonight with some ladies, the Hubs has the honour of de-virginising T2 OFF the breast. That’s right. Do or die, tonight T2 will be forced to drink her milk off a brand new bottle. I’ve done everything possible to ensure her ride is a smooth one by planning to feed her just before I step out the door and by getting those rubberised nipples that the Doctor recommended which feels softer like the breast. And I will pump lots for her. Good luck, T2! Mommy truly loves you but I need my shoes. And Good luck, Daddy!
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