I am in pain, but with Khalish around, I could divert my attention to something pleasant. Yes, Kamal and I fetched him from my cousin's place this evening. We missed him.
It is painful. I try to walk as much as possible to get accustomed to the sensation, but it is Ponstan that has helped me to adjust to the situation eventually. It has killed the pain, and sad to say, it has killed my motivation to edit a report, too.
I am high. Now that Khalish is asleep and Kamal is downstairs, watching Suhaimi Sulaiman interviewing Tengku Razaleigh Hamzah, I could retire to bed with my hallucination. Another visit to the medical center tomorrow.
Mukah for work from Sunday, March 1, to Tuesday, March 3. I have vowed to make the investment in a DSLR camera worthwhile, so I replaced my purse with a big black bag, crossing my fingers the team would stop somewhere special. An adventure of a stranded truck, a wet market, an overnight at a posh hotel by a remote town standard, a polytechnic, and a university branch later, our driver introduced us to his village and I swore I would carry the big black bag around everywhere. The sunset defined breathtaking. A bigger black bag actually, for I would need the lenses and the tripod.
Now, I know the exact reason for the minor operation. It provided more time for photography notes. From the photos above, you know that I did not do my homework on shutter speed.
The part-time maid is here, right in my room, vacuuming even the drawer after dusting it. Kamal and I hope that the permanent maid would come earlier than the promised end of March. Better still, before we go to Bali.
Kamal and I are visualising a maid who loves Khalish as much as we do, minds the cleanliness of the house, able to co-cook with me, and blends well with my extended family as well as their maids. Like my family's nanny for 30 years, Makcik Munah. Trustworthy, too.
Listening to James Allen's As A Man Thinketh at Listen Out Loud is a good way to recuperate from a minor operation that I unexpectedly had to endure this morning. I drove to the clinic on my own, but I had to be fetched by Kamal. Thank God he went to work later than usual. Khalish, meanwhile, is being cared by my cousin, Anita, and her trusty maid. That is how vulnerable I am at the moment. Thus the need for a self-help audio book.
There is a report to be edited before it could be e-mailed to my immediate boss. Budak Kelantan to watch. However, my mind is clouded with Ponstan effects. I wish I could sleep through the days of recuperation. It is more painful without Kamal and Khalish. Godspeed my recovery.
After two and a half weeks of outstation tasks, Kamal and I are back as Khalish's parents. There was a bad joke that Khalish would not recognise us the day we fetched him from the nursery, where he spent three feverish nights. The nannies took great care of him, Alhamdulillah. Prior to the nursery stay, he was under my parents' care in Rembau, for two weeks. The transition from Rembau to the nursery was made because my parents needed to prepare for their South Africa - Argentina trip this week.
About travelling, I travelled from Mukah to Rembau and back to Bandar Baru Bangi yesterday. Rembau because my parents and my younger brother needed a ride to Kuala Lumpur International Airport. Khalish slept in my mother's arms throughout the journey. My father had Khalish's photos in his telephone. Which reminds me that I need to update the photos, and of course, the songs, in my iPod, in case of more outstation tasks.
I am seriously thinking of being a work at home mother, but there is a need to devise a good plan for that to materialise minus the shudder. Particularly the financial security. Thinking, justifying, I prefer not to end up in a utilitarian world. What could I do in order to be the first to witness Khalish crawl and fall, and more importantly, for me to be there for his developmental needs while achieving financial independence?
Early morning today, Khalish woke up for milk. With two weeks of separation and a conscious decision to wean Khalish off breast milk, my supply has completely dried up. The non-existence of breast milk scent enabled me to feed Khalish direct from the bottle without any objection from the latter, like it used to be. I am still saddened by his non-chalance, but it is the best for both of us at the moment. No hassle means more good time together. Anyway, he woke up for milk early morning today. After finishing six ounces of formula milk, he fell asleep, only to wake up with a cry moments later.
His fever had subsided then. He was bothered by the flu, I guessed. 2.5ml of flu and allergy medicine, and two more ounces of formula milk later, he went back to sleep. So, I have not lost my motherly instinct yet.
Before midnight, he acted exactly that way, refusing to sleep even after the usual six ounces feed and my motherly instinct told me that he would like to savour warm milk to be able to sleep soundly. Then, the previous milk was at room temperature after an hour of being exposed to the air conditioner as I could not locate the warmer bag. He finished another six ounces of warm milk and slept like a log until 4:00 a.m. A healthy Khalish usually sleeps for a straight six hours. Shoo, flu.
I missed Khalish. I so missed him that I kept on holding him even after he had gone to sleep for quite a while despite my tiredness due to the rocky journey from Mukah to Sibu. I am still missing him. I am so missing him that I just need to channel the abundance of emotions here despite piles of papers to complete.