For You Darlings

Dearest Darling-est Friends,

As per the norm, it is the time of the year for reflections and new resolutions for a brand new year. I only have all of you to thank for making this year so different with new friendships found and new families gained. I now have a large extended family of makciks, sisters, abangs and uncles some of whom I don’t even know by face but have learnt to love from the kindness and sincerity of words that one can feel from another person’s writing. Some of you have become so close that it’s hard to imagine that we gained acquaintance over computer screens!

Thanks also for all the support and love that I have been receiving from all over the world through this little blog of mine. Only God knows how good it feels that there are people listening on the other end, whoever they are; and only God can return your kindness. I only hope that I have been able to give the same in return.

Looking forward, I won’t even bother with a New Year resolution. I mean, how can one even jam-pack a whole life’s worth of things-to-do in one little list? I’ll just have one word in mine; “LIVE”, and, oh, to pop a brownie in the oven. You know what I'm talking about! (Dear God, please make it a girl!)

So, here’s a little advanced Happy New Year note to you, you AND you with all the love from Anedra and her little family of one husband, 2 boys and a rabbit and now with a big, happy blog family too! We will be away for a while and shall be back after the New Year, and so you probably will not be hearing from me till then. However, do check the Choc-A-Blog blog for potential updates. The Makcik who runs that blog will know what I’m up to. She always does!

Take care and God Bless.

Love,
Anedra

ps. to Agent X of blogpatrol, you know who you are - HOLD THE CODE 4s!

Mama Needs Sleep, Baby

I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Well, perhaps 8.5 winks sometime in between 5.00 to 6.00am waken up in between by Nasri who wanted a drink and some manja from his mommy. It was the anticipation of meeting Nasri’s psychiatrist first thing today that caused the sleepless night. I turned and tossed about, played a game of Sudoku in between, changing positions and even beds at one point. It was probably the lights too, glaring into my face. I left them on cos N is away on work and no way will I sleep in the dark when he’s not around. Not until after 5.30, or around about during azan subuh when I’m sure the bad guys would’ve gone home, calling it a day’s or a night’s work.

Anyway, this morning, feeling like a zombie, we drove out at 7.30am, both boys still droopy eyed in the car all bundled for Nasri's 8.30am appointment. As usual, I found myself rehearsing answers for anticipated questions that the psychiatrist would be asking. Then I caught myself counting the number of words Nasri can say now and comparing it against what he could at the last visit. Things that he does better now compared to 3 months back. Oh, and the list goes on. I wish I could’ve added in the list something like “Oh you know Doc, he cracked me up with a lil joke the other day”, but no, none of that. And I wondered, if he could speak, what jokes would my fine boy be telling me? He'd crack me up, I'm sure. Anyway, by the time I got to the psychiatrist's, I forgot all that was rehearsed all the way along the MRR2. The brain was not awake yet I guess. Oh well.

It was an ok meet. Based on the feedback the psychiatrist received from the therapists Nasri has been meeting weekly, he is progressing very well. I sometimes wonder what exactly they mean when they say that. Is an additional one or two words uttered considered “very good” or is it just “good”? Is compliance or additional attention given during activities considered “excellent”? “Good”? Or what? And what’s “Progressing Very Well” all about?

Nasri is apparently (and I agree) responding well with his therapy; “communicating” or relating well with people in his surroundings but requires still, a lot of sensory stimulation, for his periodic phases of hyperactivity and whatever else. Based on her short observation of him today at the clinic, she agreed that his attention span has increased and that he is more aware of the happenings around him. He responds well to instructions and wants to be involved with games or toys that the Abang plays with. We went on discussing games and activities that I should do at home to encourage spontaneity in Nasri, as an added scope that we need to work on. “We’ll see whether this works by the next visit”, she says.

Yeah, ok. The list gets longer. Whatever it takes maam. Whatever it takes.

Psychiatrist says, we are on the right track but now thinks that we need to get his eyes checked. Not for vision or what we call eyesight check, but more of vision control or movement which would probably call for vision therapy, if the assessment says it is required. “Just to be sure”, she says.

Ok. Another assessment, another therapy to add. You’re the Doc. Whatever it takes, you know. Whatever it takes.

The truth is, as stupid as it sounds, my heart was crushed. I wanted the doctor to say, “Your son is fine. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”. I wanted her to say, “He’ll be talking tomorrow. You mark my words.” I wanted to hear, “Tomorrow you’ll wake up and he’ll be as good as new.” And how I wish she''d say, “He’ll be ok and when the day comes when you are no longer in this world, he will do just fine on his own.”

But, she didn’t say any of that. She just said, “He is progressing very well”.

Whatever.

I just feel so tired and worn out all of a sudden. And I feel so sad for my happy little baby who knows nuts about what he’s going through. Would I have totally lost my marbles if I said I feel like running away from it all, turning back time, reverse all that I perhaps did wrong when I was carrying him, just to be sure that things would turn out fine for him? Just one last try? One last chance?

Alahai, that’s overly dramatic isn’t it? It won't happen anyway. Life's not like that; for us to turn back and run and play reversal stunts..

I tell myself yet again, like an overused mantra which sometimes seems like it's lost it's meaning..

"One day at a time, one bridge at a time. You just march on Anedra"

Oh, whatever!

Boy, this mama sure needs sleep!

Ada Apa Dengan Lelaki Botak?

When I introduced N to the family for the first time, I had no inkling that he would be the one, eventually. Of course, I had the hots for him, from the first time I laid eyes on him. But no, I could have never guessed that at the point I introduced him to mom and dad, that he’d be the one I’d choose to spend the rest of my life with. Mom knew though, as she told me around 3 years after I had married him, that she knew he’d be the one. Why? I asked. She said, “Because he is bald”

It’s true. Whether I was conscious about this fascination I have for bald men throughout, I’m not sure. But yes, I have always had this thing for bald men, which must have started when I turned 18 or so because before that I was definitely in love with Ralph Macchio, the Karate Kid and no-one else. Friends have called me weird, my family have probably been silently puzzled over it. It’s a mystery, perhaps. But then again, what is there not to like about bald men?

In the past few seasons of the World Cup, I fell in love with Fabian Barthez the goal keeper for France. Nevermind David Beckham, Zinedine Zidane, Emmanuel Petit, Michael Owen, the whole of the Italian team and other hunks alike, it was Fabian Barthez that I had my eyes set on, and thus my undying support for the French! So betcha last dollar that at the wee hours of 4am or so, I’d be up watching my man defend the French goal post and cheering for him just as though he could hear me from the sidelines.

Then there are the movie stars. Ben Kingsley in Ghandi? Don’t ask me why..but he got my adrenaline pumping. And that guy in the King and I, what’s his name? I had a crush on him too. Then after many other movies, I can’t recall them all, which featured equally eye-pleasing hairless heroes and even villains. Then came Armageddon with Bruce Willis sporting an almost clean shaven head (I believe he was already balding anyway at the time) which affirmed my infatuation with bald headed men. I must’ve watched that movie like, what? 10 times? Then the more recent XXX or The Fast and Furious, with sexy Vin Diesel, making a girl like me feeling all goosebumpy and excited so much so that the excitement could’ve blown the roof off!

Oh my list doesn’t stop there. I probably have bald politicians (Maya! Shhhhh!) somewhere in the list, college professors, and god knows what else.

People have asked me since, what is it exactly about bald men and me? I don’t know. Perhaps it’s the clean look. No blow away hair, no grease, no dandruff, they’re always neat and nice to look at. The absence of hair probably brings out the best of their features anyway. You could see all of their eyes without being distracted with “oh, he needs a haircut” or “ewww..check out the oil on his hair”; when they smile, it not only lights up their face, but if possible the whole head! You know what I mean? What also gets to me is how wise they tend to look, perhaps because of the wider display of foreheads unobstructed by hair, and then somehow, the charm this look of wisdom exudes. And have you noticed, that definite rogue-ish, broodish feel about them? A lethal cocktail of charm, wisdom and danger. What else would a girl want in a man eh? Isn't that something to die for?

God is Great for after strings of boyfriends (err..actually only 2. yawn..boring ol me!), all with lots and mops of hair; somewhere in His Grand Design he pushed N into my path, knowing that a bald man like him, I could definitely not resist. So there he was in the cafeteria, some fine day over 6 years back, a rogue-like tanned man with a nice bald head who took my breath away. How could I have not said yes when he popped the question finally? To have my own FabianBarthez-Bruce Willis-Vin Diesel to call my room-mate; house-mate; all for myself?

Maya, over a lengthy discussion on this mystery of me and bald men, sort of solved the issue. She said in her always so wise way, “Anedra, how else do we explain it. It’s all in the hormones.” I’ll just leave it at that. She’s always right anyway. And so when someone else asks me why, I’ll just echo Maya. “Hormones”. But really, look below, what's there not to like about em?

Right?

What The Australian Women's Weekly Did For Me

*Some discussions happening in Bergen’s comment boxes regarding the Australian Women’s Weekly triggered some memories, from just about a year back.*

The Australian Women's Weekly is not just a typical women's mag like Cosmopolitan or Glamour etc. It's a real magazine with really nice stuff that I'm sure every woman would enjoy reading. You know, features on famous people, features on everyday family life, fashion, shoes, handbags, sex tips, health tips, quick recipes, gourmet recipes, the works. It's a solid magazine. But me, I buy it mainly for the crosswords.

I am a crossword puzzle freak and am always on the hunt for good crossword puzzles to solve. And so I became ardent fan of the Australian Women’s Weekly. The crossword puzzles are out of this world and can keep you going for weeks until the next month’s issue comes out (of course, that’s if you can only work on puzzles late at night when the rest of the household is asleep and on weekends! Otherwise, you’d finish em in a day!)

Anyway, I had bought an issue in October/November 2004 for the sole purpose of getting the crosswords. But that particular issue was to be more significant than just a batch of crosswords, as it became somewhat of a wake-up call that would change a major part of my life.

As I remember, it was a bright Sunday morning and the children were playing downstairs with their father. I was sitting by the open window in the bedroom having some quiet time alone with my Women’s Weekly. After trying out the puzzles, drooling at the featured recipes, then I came across an article featuring families in Australia with autistic children and some FAQs on autism. I had heard of autism before and I've read many articles about it years back. But the articles in that edition sent shivers down my spine. It hit me then that my youngest son had some of the features described, elevating the fear that I had secretly been harbouring in my mind that something was not right with him. But also something I kept pushing to the back of my mind, thinking that it could not happen to ME. I had chickened out. I didn't want to think about. Until that day.

I could say, it was the worst article I could have ever read, as it delivered such horrid news. As a mother, I could not accept the fact that my son could be autistic, but at the same time I had to be sure, so that I could help him. I did not sleep for easily a week after, thinking of what I had to do, and whether I was brave enough to face reality, if it was autism. I didn’t even share my worries with N. I don’t know why.

Finally I mustered up the courage to go and see a professional. The magazine had advised that the earlier a diagnosis is made, the better. So I followed and I am glad I did. Nasri was about 2 years old then when we first met the psychiatrist. In the end, he was not assessed as autistic, but we had a lot of hard work to do especially with his speech. He has since, gone through assessments and is currently going through his various therapies and what nots. He has changed a lot and is making good progress, laughing with us and becoming such a cute lil attention seeker! He still has rounds of assessments to go through though. The next one is just next week! Pray for us!

Being a mother, I have to admit, that again, I am losing sleep over the prospect of having to face another assessment. It’s like going through a performance review and you feel like you’ve performed dreadfully. But I suppose it really does not matter at the end of the day, what the outcome of the assessment is. If he isn’t autistic, then there are still a lot of things we need to work on with him, looking at his speech abilities now. If he is, then I guess, there are just more things we need to work on with him. It won’t be easy but what needs to be done, has to be done. Either ways, he will have all the love in the world given to him. Nothing less as he’s my son no matter what. There is still a whole lifetime ahead. A beautiful one nontheless.

Looking back, I suppose, the article that I said could have been the worst article I could have ever read was actually one of the best, as I don’t know what would have happened, had I not read it in the Australian Women’s Weekly that day. My actions could have been delayed and we could have wasted so much time not doing anything. The article was probably one of God’s one million and one ways of sending a crossword puzzle freak, a message, that she had to do something, fast!

So God Bless the day I became a crossword puzzle freak. God Bless the Australian Women’s Weekly team for coming up with such awesome crossword puzzles monthly that I don’t ever miss buying the magazine, and so that I came to read that article on that November day. And God Bless the day I finally did something for my son.

Ps. Bergen, go get one today!