Not quite feeling myself this week…

I haven’t written in awhile – it’s not really that there’s not much been much happening but rather that the stuff that has been happening I think you would all find boring; its all wedding party stuff really:

Trying to source a wedding cake: My hot tip is to not do too many bookings on the one day – eating cake samples every 2nd hour does not clense the palate and DOES interfere with the weight that one is desperately trying to lose!

Dress fittings: I had my calico one today and am amazed at how cold it was standing in a room in all but a calico dress. I think I handled the whole pinning situation rather well and must give props to the designers assistant who did not prick me once!

Bridesmaid issues – actually there certainly IS a story there… forget being a bridezilla – I have a covert bridesmaid-zilla… and I personally do NOT think she is very covert about her ‘diva-ness’!

But all the above is sort of the least of my worries as I battle to understnad why I have been feeling rather ‘funny’ and ‘weird’ lately – I have no idea how to actually define or describe how I’m feeling but its a little “off” to how I am normally feeling – Mr A has noticed and keeps asking me “what’s wrong?” and “have I done something to upset you?” and more often “what can I do to make my princess smile?” Bless him greatly for trying – i appreciate it beyond comprehension! I’ll be ok for a little while and then I am back to this ‘funk’!

Then there’s me thinking about having to get mum’s tickets organised; oh yes did I forget to mention? Mum apparently wants to head off to Indonesia and possibly UAE for Eid this year and is hoping to head off on the 3rd of September. She very diplomatically (not) asked about how once she’d found the best price and got the dates sorted how “we” were going to pay for it – which was clearly mum’s way of saying “how and are YOU going to pay for this?”. I told her how her last years trip cost me a bit as she had wanted an open ticket that would be valid for a year and did not want to travel something like Virgin/Air Asia/Tiger (read: budget airline) that this meant the tickets were a little bit of a pretty penny (which really makes me wonder why when she paid for her own tickets JetStar was more than sufficient but since I had to pay somehow JetStar was now far too inferior!). Anyway, i said that based on last years costs i was happy to pay half that amount… Well, she’s done her research and organised her ticket to be a one year open ticket (like last time) where she still has to put in some rnadom return date (she has selected 03/03/2011) and she leaves on the afternoon of September third – oh and apparently the travel agent has emailed me the details and I am paying for her ticket – ALL of it.

Don’t get me wrong; this isn’t really a blog post about me lamenting that I am having to pay for the ticket. I worked out a long time ago that I am definately great at driving her places, paying bills, fixing ‘stuff’ and organising appointments. What upsets me is that i am having to “suck up” that this beyond a one way street – that i am not a complete moron to have not noticed that she is conviently away just prior my wedding party and a whole shitload of time after. I am come to realise that i have no idea about anything when it comes to my mother –  that even as i am typing this i am ranting! In some ways I more than expect it (this ‘situation’) and am happy to claim it as my duty as a Muslim daughter – i mean some people would claim that as a Muslim child my job is to “shut up and put up” and to remember that as she is the mother her word is gold – her requests should be met with nothing more than ‘yes mother’ – but i ask these people: where and when is the line drawn? I am NOT talking about retribution or being vengeful or rude, but rather at what point do i continue to take the ALL of THIS???????  Would a simple ‘thank you’ would go astray. Plus, whilst I am pre-programmed that this is how it has to be I don’t understand how my mum must think that it is more than ok to say what she wants, expect the earth and still its never enough  

Before you quip that that perhaps i should remind her that this means (her departure + return dates) she will not be here for my wedding party – believe me I know and i did remind her! I spoke to her about it the other morning; the conversation entailed her asking me if I had already paid for her ticket (*sigh*) – I told her that I was paying for it on Thursday (today). And her asking if I would come to Indonesia with her? I told that I was very sorry but that I wouldn’t be able to come with her – she then went on about how the family would LOVE to see me as they did not see me on the last trip she went on. I went on to telling her that I was not able to come as surely she must remember that i mentioned my wedding party was on the 30th of October – her answer was so eloquently put mashallah:

“I don’t care about your wedding – I want you to come with me…”

I must say that although I knew that she probably would not be at the party and that I more than realise her stance and her denial on the subject matter that is Mr A and I, that hearing this statement has hurt more than all the denial and other stuff she’s said in passing. I can’t quite put my finger on why though – perhaps its because that while she was putting her head in the sand i could rationalise to myself that she doesn’t really comrehend what i am doing – that she is just lost by this whole situation. But the fact that she is able to very clearly articulate that she DOESN’T care is such a slap in the face that as a daughter my role is to care and provide but that i should not expect the same in return. Perhaps this really hurts because its just one more hurtful thing that she’s said that i have to sit there and take. 

After that little comment she proceeded to make other little jibes comments that again, i sit there and listen to whick led me to sit there and pray for more patience – it is beyond words to just sit there and hear that sort of statement and never be able to say anything back – because as a daughter my role is to be patient; to listen; to not utter a bad word that would upset her (God only knows I upset her enough), to remember that she raised me and that in her way she is trying to do what’s best for me, that I am to respectfully sit there… and take the verbal slings and arrows with silent prayers and deep breaths I silently sat there listening to her say:

“No one loves you like me – I am your mother and I am the only person in this world who really loves you. everyone else is just lying – its ALL camouflage; one day you see – there is only me; everyone else is just pretending… ”

I tried to stop listening at that point – I am sure you catch my drift. We said our goodbyes and I got off the phone not long after that. I sat there next to Mr A (he was driving us to work) thanking Allah that I somehow ended up a rather well adjusted human being and that it truly is by the grace of God that, when I think about all the f#$ked up crap I had to endure with my dad and then with they way my mum behaves and says in the last ten-ish years that I did not end up a mentally screwed individual!

A few minutes after I get off the phone Mr A then turns to me and asks; “everything ok?”

My answer?  “Fine sweetie – i love you…”

He knows me so well and touches my knee, smiling he tells me he loves me too – SOOOOO much (he says).

 I mean really – what is there to say?

Mr A Gets Promoted!

At First I didn’t actually see it this way – a promotion. It took Susi and I chatting about the situation and chuckling of at the madness of it all to realise that it is, indeed some kind of a promotion i guess!

Remember how aaaagggeeesss ago i mentioned how a male family member came to Perth to visit? Remember how I mentioned how mum has high hopes for said guy and then all hopes were dashed when both people’s personalities conflicted? Well; when he left Australia he had left some of his luggage here and had asked that we send it back to him. “We” became ‘MY’ job and my mum cut all sort of responsibility on grounds that since they had had an argument that clearly the responsibility would be mine. And so (yet again) i sucked it up and dealt with it.

I told him that I would more than happy to send his (22kg of) luggage once he had transferred me some money – I mean, didn’t get me wrong here; I have no problems sending 1, 2, 5, or even up to 10kg worth of luggage but aft3er a few quick quotes online I discovered that sending 22kg worth of luggage was hardly cheap… plus i have a house to pay for (does anyone realise that porcelain slab tiles are NOT cheap?)

So after nearly a YEAR later – yes, nearly a year the guy transfers me some money – far be it for me to tell him that since the start of financial year that the cost of sending said items would be increased. Whatever; I was just happy to have it off my hands (and not have to hear anymore about it from my mum… again and again… and again!).

Everything was organised through Discount Excess Luggage – yes it is some shameless advertising but the man was really great (for more details head to and the prices were really competitive! The plan was that he would pick up said item from my mum’s place; weigh item, call me and I would give him my credit card details. What actually happened was that he went to pick up said item and mum would not take any of the paperwork from him?

The poor guy had no idea what to do – i spoke to my mum later and apparently the rationale in her mind was that as NONE of it was her responsibility that she would not take ANY of the paperwork. That this man HAD to give me the paperwork – she told the poor guy where i worked and said that he should drop it off to me!

When the guy (his name was Laurie by the way) said “you can give it to your daughter when you see her” apparently she said a few things – mum told me that she had told him that i do not always come home and that sometimes i sleep at my friends house!


When I told her that she KNEW that I most definitely was not staying with a “friend” and that I am staying with my in-laws and my husband she went onto say “no – I tell him you sometimes stay with your friend; what for I make bad my daughter’s name? I not want to tell him that you won’t come home to see your mother”

I mean let’s just be serious here for a second – as IF the Caucasian man is seriously caring what I do with my life and where I am living! I mean – WHO would he gossip this ‘vital’ tid-bit of information to??? If anything, her behaviour has probably made him go “yep, I’d be living with my friend too sweetie!!!”

Anyway; although at first I was a little frustrated, annoyed and flabbergasted by her incessant denial Susi and I realised that in some twisted way she had finally acknowledged Mr A’s existence as being something more than (how she affectionately refers to him as) ‘Satan’.

And it only took us this long!

Another 3 years and he’ll be my boyfriend/fiancé!

Me & Murphy – we ain’t friends!

I don’t like Murphy…. Murphy and his stupid, lame, idiotic, frustrating laws that seem to rear its ugly head at the most inopportune of moments!


Like my mobile that died 3 days after Mr A upgraded his and I said that I would not be upgrading mine because I wanted actually really like my phone (it had the best camera – seriously; it made everyone look great!)


Like the fact that before Mr A popped the question there was not a single decent Muslim Arab man around who didn’t turn out to be a complete tool/jackass/user in disguise but now that I am off the market and have a reserved sticker on my forehead (not yet Sold my pretty’s!!!) they’re bloody breaking down my door, bumping into me in the streets, sending me tickets to overseas locations to prove their sincerity, incessantly calling me, having their mothers call my mum who tells them that I am single and they should try their luck and ask me to marry them(grrr)… all this to prove to me that in some ways we are to the angels as reality TV is to us here on earth (therefore comical, interesting, intriguing and sometimes horrific)!


The irony is not lost on me.


Isheeta’s comment to simply “flush” is definitely at the forefront of my mind.


Why couldn’t they have just stayed in the woodwork??


Yesterday on the way to my car (while I was on the phone to Susi) I heard my name being called out – I knew it was an Arab because he had pronounced it right. On this I have to point out something: I love how my name sounds when its pronounced right – not in that “I’m white and am trying to take the piss out of your name” way or the “I’m trying to impress you but have only seemed to over-emphasise the ‘ahh’ part in your name”. Nay; there is something within me, my being, my subconscious that reverberates, sings, reaches out to the sound of the way my name is said in the right way.


Anyway; I look back telling Susi I’ll buzz her back later and am astounded to see Mr Syria in front of me… here are the quick stats: tall, sandy brown hair, white shirt against his tan skin, suit with tie (drroooollll – what is it about a man in a suit?), sweet smile that shows a degree of shyness, he takes off his sunglasses to reveal his GREEN eyes… *sigh* my god this family has good genes (his sister is stunning).


I used to know this guy back my days of retail – when I was working for a Telco (telecommunications company) he would come in and chat to me about mobile phones and our respective families. I met his mum; I then discovered that I actually knew his sister (bloody small world and the fact that most Arabs know other Arabs who then know and introduce you to other Arabs!)… He seemed sweet, kind and nice and studying electrical engineering…


So there I am standing in front of him and obviously we’ve both ascertained that we work in the business district now and that he’s in this 3rd year as an electrical engineer for a major disciplinary (his 2 years away from being an intermediate engineer! All that engineering talk clearly stuck in my brain!) I tell him that I work for the government and point out my building. I was actually in a major rush to catch up with Zara so had to jet – he was like “let’s have lunch sometime?” I gotta admit that I was thinking ‘ah-huh, whatever; you got my number ages ago and the only time you used it was when you wanted to make sure I was at work to upgrade your phone so whatever…’ I gave him my mobile and walked away.


I kid you not – 2 minutes later I get a message: hey, this is Mr Syria – it was great seeing you just then – lets do lunch next Tuesday insha-Allah?


I hesitate on my reply and leave it for a lil bit and then realise that I am clearly being waaayyyy rude and should be at least cordial! I mean he has always been friendly and I am working on the assumption that we are friends. I respond with: lunch sounds nice – just let me know when you’re available.


10 seconds later I receive a response: fantastic! It’s a tentative yes then in case either of us gets held up at work. Have you been to tiger lil’s before?


*Tiger Lil’s is a swanky little bar and restaurant in Perth – very ‘now’ the place has this funky Asian fusion feel to it. it is where the pretty people go, where the well dress congregate on a Saturday night and the office staff cluster for after work Friday drinks (plus there is generally rather yummy eye candy there: Mr A does not like me going there without him so me thinks that he concurs with the yummy eye-candy*


Me half an hour later: yeah, been there a few times – great after work atmosphere.

Him 30 seconds later: yeah- a few of my friends and I are going there Friday night and then staying til 12am


Hehe – gosh men are funny! He’s telling me about a bar and restaurant to show me his part of that crowd – to show he’s not this lil shy guy anymore and that he likes to enjoy himself. That he likes that atmosphere and is clearly under the assumption that I like that crowd also…


Alas it is but too late my dear… I await for his sister to tell him in the next day or so that I am engaged. Failing that I will tell him if he calls…


Bloody Murphy…