monthly letter : month eight

dear arwen,



you wouldn't have guessed what your first word was, baby. It's Allah! only when you said it, it sounds more like 'Awohh'. and the best thing about it is that you know how to use it appropriately. well, actually not really appropriate, because we tend to take His name for granted and use it in vain, like when we drop things or as we smack our foreheads with our palms because we just had an "Oh. Crap." moment. but you did that too, at the most opportune time. like when i dropped things out of their racks in a baby store because i am too big for my own good. and you exclaimed 'Awoh!' like as if you meant to say "Ma! Behave please! Sheesh!", like as if my sole purpose in life is to bring you utter shame and you are completely embarrassed to be seen with me.





whatever it is, i couldnt ask for a better first word for you. sejuk perut mama, sayang. thanks a lot to Nyang Ramlah for teaching you how to salam, how to say Allah, alif ba ta and so on. and thanks to your Oma too for always reciting Al-Fatihah and selawat just before you sleep. because if you leave it up to me, the woman who greeted you with Hi! instead of Assalamualaikum when we first met, the woman who lets you listen to Coldplay instead of Quran recitals when you were in the womb, the woman who says Whoa! instead of Alhamdulillah when you burp out loud after your meals, the woman who says fuck with reckless abandon in your newsletters ... i don't know how you're gonna turn out when you grow up. it scares me to shit to even think about it.



your greatest milestones this month were unleashing your ability to clap when i sing "clap! clap! clap!", and to wave when we say bye-bye, and to throw your arms up in the air when i yell YAY! the only thing i hope you'd do is to stop doing things i don't want you to do when i yell NO! but i know, because i do believe in karma, that i will eventually get what i deserve. i guess it's only fair in life that my daughter is as hard-headed as i was, i mean am. the cheekiest thing about you is that you know that you're not supposed to do all the stuff i don't approve of you doing like biting off the public-use babychair and trying to climb up the wall, because you'd sneak a glance at me to see if i was looking before you do all those things. how the heck you get to be so clever, baby? i know that the talent to use your brain? that didn't come from me.



just a few days ago, on daddy's birthday to be exact, we found out that you've grown two more teeth. it's your middle upper ones now. oh my god! i can't believe how fast you're growing up. you've got 4 teeth to bite into things now. you're such a gnawer, buttercup so there goes all furniture in the house, brandishing your teethmarks.



i've never felt so loved and needed by any other human being since this month. i love how happy you are when you see me, or how you choose me over anybody else (well, except for Oma) when you want to sleep. you've made daddy jealous more than a few times. a couple of weeks ago, i handed you over to daddy so he can fulfill his part of the responsibility in making a human being look after you while i watch a bit of TV. it's hard to concentrate on the TV with you climbing and crawling about everywhere. the moment i walked out of the room and closed the door behind me, you wailed like somebody just ripped your favourite stuffed bunny into shards with a industrial strength blender and you continued to wailed for another 15 seconds before your daddy had enough of it and hand you over back to me. the moment you're in my arms, you stopped crying and you automatically waved goodbye at daddy. it broke his heart having you done that to him. preferring me over him.



i'm sorry your daddy's the kind of person who can't handle people crying around him. not just you alone. when we were dating, and fought in the car that'll will almost result in sending me crying, (not because of what he said or done, more because that he doesn't say or do anything that leaves me frustrated and feel like breaking things into the wall) he'll simply drive me home faster than the speed of sound just to avoid handling my uncontrollable emo bursts. that's just daddy, and we love him nonetheless.



last weekend, we took you out to the swimming pool (courtesy of Mala'a's apartment complex). yeah, i know, like, finally. i'm sorry, sayang. daddy and i were gonna take you there earlier, but you were down with fever and flu again and it's been raining on and off here, it was impossible for us to find that time. so since your cousins were here and they wanted to go swim, daddy and i decided it'd be great for you to join them too. we have been putting it off for too long anyway.



initially you were weirded out about the whole idea of swimming. but it just turns out that you didn't want to use a float and rather swim freely. you love the water, but you're not as keen about the pool than you are about the shower daddy took you to to rinse. you didn't want to get out of the shower. perhaps you just wasn't too fond about being in a chemical-infused communal water. i guess we're gonna have to take you swimming a few more times before you get used to it. i don't want you to grow up like me, afraid of water deeper than 4 feet.





it's hard for me, wanting you to experience new things and be unafraid and not lose your sense of wonder and curiosity, when my own rigidity and having that stick up my ass all the time may hinder you from exploring places and testing things. because that anal, over-bearing part of me wants to shelter you and keep you out of harm's way always. i rather break my arms than see you in pain. i know that there'll be times that you'll get hurt, you'll get bruised, you'll cry and you'll get your heart broken by boneheads who doesn't know how to appreciate you. i know i have to be prepared for that. but please don't blame me for stopping you from having too much fun. forgive me if i don't give you the freedom you need to experience life and all the fuckups that come along with it. i am only looking out for you, for you are afterall, forever my girl.



love,
mama.