While i was away…

My mum came into my office to see me on Friday 30/04/2010 (I left Friday afternoon but had taken the Thursday off to pack and make sure that all things like holiday insurance, etc were sorted!). I spoke to her on the Saturday to tell her that I was away – to NO avail! Upon trying to tell her she cut me off telling me that she did not want to hear anything that would make her have a car accident (as she was in the car). so I didn’t tell her…

The first week went by and I called her on the Wednesday as apparently she had come into my office on the Tuesday to give me my early birthday present. I told that although I was thankful that she had gotten me something, that all I had wanted (as I had previously told her) was for her to finally accept my decision and accept Mr A. She responded with her usual reference to satan (aka Mr A) and not accepting him. I got off the phone to her and told Mr A that I had still not told her –  he called me chicken poo and told me that I needed to call her back and just tell her…

I called a few days later – mother’s day evening (from outside Discovery Mall, Bali) and listened to her tell me about her problems, what she needed and what I must do for her when I come over, about her doctor’s appointment in July, about how no one had come to visit her on mother’s day, etc – I cut her off and told her that I could not talk to her for very long as the call would cost a small fortune from Bali and that I WAS calling to wish her a happy mother’s day.

I then had to hear her go on about how she thought I was going to Jakarta – I told that I had said to her that Mr A and I were intending to go to Indonesia, I never stated which part! She then went on (and on) about how Bali is predominantly not Muslim and why would I go to where there are no Muslims? I told her that there were Muslims everywhere; that a lot of Muslims come to Bali – that in fact she used to live there! She commented that thi was before she went for haj and that I should know better – that who knows what food I was eating. I said to her that I think she forgets that I speak nearly fluent Indonesian and that I know exactly what meat we are eating! I told her AGAIN that I had previously already told her to stop coming into my office as it undermines my professionalism and makes me looks bad. I got off the phone feeling terrible, frustrated and annoyed and wanting to take photos of the many Hijabi’s and Arabs I saw and send copies of them all to my mum.

I heard nothing from her on my second week.

I didn’t call her at all…

I returned (to Aussie-land) on Friday afternoon and did not tell her.

I spent all weekend doing my own thing and was blissfully happy at the fact that I did not have one single missed call from her (I normally have her call me often) – that when my phone did ring I wasn’t all anxious or distraught about the imminent guilt trip my mm would dish out to me.

I returned to work on Monday and discover that my mum (after talking to me and finding out that I was in Bali) had come into my office 2 more times; one of which was on Thursday to find out when I was coming back – the guy on reception did not know and told her that he was not sure when I was returning.

The irony is that on Sunday Mr A and I sat on the sofa watching a DVD with him telling me that maybe I should visit my mum – tell her that I’ve come back and that I’m ok. The shocking thing is that even after being away from her and not going to see her since January (aside from the times she has seen in my office) I don’t want to see her. I am not angry with her, not at all. I am just tired of it all… SO beyond tired of the repetitive crap that she keeps giving me; the same comments, the same tears and the same emotional intensity that makes me want to move across the country/change jobs/change my number, etc.

But even in saying/writing the above paragraph there is another part of me that wonders why I haven’t heard from her in about a week. A part of me that says a prayer for her hoping that she is ok and hoping that Allah opens her heart to accepting me as I am and the decisions that I have made. And then there is this part of me that wants to call her – not to have a conversation with her as I know that that is unlikely but rather just to hear her voice (sans lamentations) just to know that she’s ok.

But THEN I am overcome with curiosity and against my better judgement I read the birthday card she gave me. Why do I bother? Sentences not particularly worth mentioning include:

“So sad that someone forgot my birthday last time or not ring me – maybe not allowed to send me anything – I know Satan is very strong in your place”

Numerous references to about me and “latnatallah” (it’s a muslim thing that I cannot really explain)

“what you are doing is a big sin and Allah will teach you a lesson”

Comments about how she will be patient and wait for me to come home as God loves those that are patient

That she is my real mother and cannot believe that I am doing this and why won’t I just come home?

Mum had also included some story about how some friend of mine (when I was 14; she was 17 and had a car) took me out and we went to Fremantle and to the beach and that when we came back home late she was really angry/upset and told me that I was not allowed to talk to her anymore and how now look at her life? How she is still single (as far as mum knows) and that she cannot be happy as she lives away from parents etc.

Really – why do I bother? What else can I do to make this stop? I am really beginning to get tired of this; I am beyond frustrated of all of this… I don’t know what else to do – worst yet is that I am baffled by how she seems to still have this way of getting to me? of making me question what I am doing… and with each word that I read and morosely re-read I feel numb, more empty and more resolute at my not wanting to see her. I just want to keep walking; I want to move – I want her to move.

I tried… whilst I was away I told her that we were thinking of coming back to Indonesia in January; that she could go to Jakarta if she liked… she said that she wanted to go to Jakarta in January as long as I went with her… I told her that if she went then that we would visit her – she said she didn’t care about anyone else and that she just wanted to go with me.

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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 http://www.discountexcessbaggage.com.au/) 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!

Personal space & me

I grew up with my  mum pretty much always in my face – I wasn’t allowed to have the bathroom door shut, my bedroom door shut and I still have to answer when my mum calls and I am in the toilet. I can honestly say that personally I have NO personal space! That being said, I understand that most other people out there DO have some semblance of personal space – I am NOT one of ‘those’ people that completely disregard another person’s need to have some level of distance between myself and them.

When I was working in retail I remember having to deal with the ‘close talker’ – you know, the person who seems to get closer and closer with every word they say to a point that we are but inches from each other and I can almost SEE what they’ve had for lunch? As much as I stood there astounded at this person I am pretty much not fazed – whatever; don’t care! Because in reality lets face it, its not like their they are standing there having a conversation with me whilst I am in the shower completely wet and naked (*ahem* my mother!).

So, I don’t mind the hugs, the ‘sitting so close to me you may as well be on me’ situations when all us girls are trying to fit on a sofa and I have seriously not met more than half of them. When it comes to shopping having little personal space is actually beneficial – I am unfazed by the pokes, prods and shuffling to get an item at 70% off – I am undeterred in having to get changed in one room with a handful of other girls when buying Sass & Bide jeans at their sample sales – heck; we all got the same stuff! I am more than ok with it – maybe it’s a Arabic in me; where we grow up with our families knowing pretty much every aspect of our lives – and making up the rest! Or maybe its because of the way mum brought me up where pretty much I had to instil my own boundaries (read: privacy) that involved many a war and FINALLY being able to have my door closed at night at the tender age of 26 (with many a promise that I was NOT doing anything haraam behind closed doors!). Or maybe it’s because I am approachable (this is what I am told) so people need to “approach” – actually there’s a thought; if I had more personal space would I be less approachable? Have I become approachable because I have little personal space?

But there are some things I don’t get; I went out last night with Mr A and a few of his friends with their ‘significant others’ – I know most of them so its pretty much ‘whatever’ – but one of the girls there was pretty new to the group; in fact this was the first time I was meeting her; so after the preliminary questions (like, what do you do, where do you work and how was your day) she mentions that she missed her long hair as she had (days ago) cut it (think the Posh Spice bob) – I actually rather liked her hair and told her so… and then she comments on how much she looovvveeess my hair – and proceeds to run her fingers through my curls!!

Really? Really? I have JUST met you… and though I must admit that by the end of the evening I thought her a lovely gal I was still a little “um – excuse me, do you mind?” about the hair thing… now I gotta admit that although I will lament that my curly hair is annoying to look after in that it does have a mind of its own we (my hair and I) have come to a mutual respect for each other; I will treat it with love and affectionately purchase sweet smelling and curl friendly products (that are NOT friendly with my bank balance) and in turn my hair will repay me with pretty long ringlet curls of lovely definition… *sigh*

I am not fazed to share the products I use in my hair – in fact I have actually had other curly haired girls ask me what i use – I am more than happy to share… and if I have known you for more than half an hour I am more than happy to have you stroke and caress my hair – but seriously, give me 5 minutes at least!

Mr A meets a cousin!

Last night I spoke to Zaen – he’s one of my first cousins. We generally chat rather often but I say that in the last few months or so we haven’t chatted at all. Maybe its because we’re both busy with work or maybe its because he’s got 5 kids all under the age of 12 (where 3 are under the age of 6 – yikes), or maybe it’s all the mayhem with mum, etc – whatever; essentially we’d sorta lost touch.

Anyway the other day I thought about him and I was thinking that he’d such a snob for not calling me and really was a little overdue – so I gave him a call, left a message and called him an arrogant so and so for not calling his little cous(in).

It was a really good chat – I know mum had told me that he’d been in regular contact with her whilst she was over there (he lives in Doha; Qatar) but Zaen told me that it’s been roughly ever couple 4ish days. So imagine his surprise when he asks what I’ve been up to and I’m like “oh, well; I am in the midst of planning a wedding reception – you should come over to Australia in about October as that’s when we’re hoping to have it!”
The poor guy was shocked – he was like “how come I haven’t heard ANY of this – what is going on? Did you do all this while your mum was away?”

And so it began; I sat down and told him that naturally mum knows, that I moved out to Susi’s and then… well obviously everything. How Mr A’s parents are lovely. About him fasting with me this year – about why I suggested mum go on holiday if she didn’t want to mosque ALL together for eid. He silently listened and then said that he couldn’t believe my mum has said nothing to him about ANY of this. I told him that I seriously wasn’t surprised as I actually wasn’t allowed to mention it to anyone and not even suppose to talk to her about it as apparently I am then ‘killing her’.
He didn’t know what to say – Mr A then walked up to me and was like; “oohhh – who are you on the phone to?” when I said that it was Zaen he asked if Zaen wanted to talk to him – and so they spoke!!!

Granted it wasn’t a long conversation – just the basic salam and good to finally meet you. I am sorry that she (my mum) isn’t happy about us; but inshallah soon she will understand. Standard; please come to visit us in autralia; Mr A saying that we are building so inshallah he will be here either for our (civil) wedding and reception but if not then to come visit when we have our house; the good salam and then I got the phone returned to me!

Haha – the call ended with Zaen telling me that he is going to call me again soon – as clearly he misses TOO many events when he leaves it too long!

*sigh* One small step for man…

Thanks Sunshine!

I went to a friend’s little girl’s birthday party on Sunday…

 

Happy Birthday Kookai!

Happy Birthday Kookai!

It was a Madagascar (the movie) theme…. It was all so cute; all these little kiddies dressed up; there was a little batman and a Darth Vader…very cute indeed – and let’s not even get me started on all the babies! Ooohhh, its enough to almost make me clucky and have a baby all my own! ALMOST… not quite though – ‘chicken before the egg’ and all that stuff my dear… its strange how sometimes I will completely be ‘in the moment’ and be totally enjoying myself and then I will get this thought/feeling wash over me and it’ll feel like a ice cold bucket of water has been thrown on me; I sat there watching all the kids and Sunshine and her family and I couldn’t help but wonder how my mum would be when my children have their birthdays?

Sunshine – thanks for inviting me honey! The food was delicious and I hope that the birthday girl had as good a time as we all did… thanks honey!

Because a picture paints a thousand words…

Sometimes I am astounded by myself… not in s sense that I ‘wow’ myself but rather that I am surprised by the intensity that a feeling, thought and action can be carried out. In such silent frustration I plod along – this constant passive-aggressive who dislikes to ‘rock the boat’ unless totally necessary (read: at my wits end!)

 

Since we’ve been back my mum has been harping on about how my aunt and her son will soon be coming to visit us here in Australia and that because of this the house must be in a constant state of immaculate cleanliness – that the cookies in the cookie jar are to be always full (as my aunt is a big snacker) and that the fridge is to be stocked to capacity as though at any given time we are prepared to feed an army… whatever; I have learnt that it is far, far easier to go along with this part – even though I did tell her that when they come they told me they’d message and call me with their flight details as I was their ride over. The situation then flows on into my bedroom – the constant checking to make sure everything is as she likes it. Don’t get me wrong, I do like a clean room, but every now and then if I am in a rush for work I’m not fazed if I don’t do my bed or there are a few clothes on the bed – it’s no biggie.

 

But I have noticed something over the last week-ish that at first I thought was odd and now I just think is a little more than annoying, frustrating but somehow comical in its consistency! In my room I have photo of me, Mr A, Susi, and 2 other close friends on my dresser (taken at my last birthday when I just got back from Thailand – I am looking so fresh and relaxed!) – We will call this: ‘Photo A’ there is also another one of me, Susi and another of my close friends which we will call ‘Photo B’. Both photos are not in a frame; it’s clipped into one of those photo clip things so that it juts up. Well, just about every single day (except one) I get home and strangely enough Photo A has fallen (face) down on my dresser. At first I thought it was an accident; that it accidentally fell as my mum walked past, so I’d just pick it up and think nothing of it. After the third day I noticed that this was only happening to Photo A; the photo with Mr A in it… hmm (I thought) – curious and curiouser (forgive me; I’m quoting Alice in Wonderland)! So I started to pay more attention to this photo; every day I would get home and see it face down, fallen on the floor – also face down, laying on my dresser – face down. Surely my room doesn’t have that much wind going through it while I’m not around?????

 

Then yesterday when I got back home from work I noticed that Photo A was face down on my dresser with my TV remote on top… now, in no way could this be the wind! Finally, I had to be honest with myself and admit that my mum was going into my room (while I was at work or out) for whatever reason and was turning over this photo… I can only think it’s because of Mr A as mum has not done anything to the other photo (Photo B). Plus if we work on the concept of probability (being that the wind had merely ‘tipped’ the photo over) then there would also be the same amount of probability that Photo B would have fallen over as they are both the same weight and are placed in the same location in the same manner. No… I can only come to one conclusion: that this was intentionally done by my mum (there is only one other person in my house besides me: my mum)!

 

So, because I haven’t wanted to cause a probable argument I have quiet – silently wondering what was happening… saying nothing. Yesterday; after the remote control ‘situation’ I decided that enough was enough…

 

I got my camera out and headed out to Officeworks (it’s an office supply store near my house that also does photo prints) and did some printing… of photos.

 

Of quite a few photos’….

 

In total about 8 photos’….

 

Photo’s of me…. and Mr A

 

So I went home… gave mum the photos of our trip (as she had said that she wanted a copy of the pics taken + the CD it was on) and then went into my room… 

I framed the pics that I had printed!

 

All of them! Including the one that kept ‘falling over’ on my dresser!

 

I left the house this morning daring all those photos’s to ‘suddenly’ fall off my wall… face down of course!