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As promised by the husband, we had a rare mid-week date.
Rare, because we don't do dates during the weekdays anymore, for obvious reasons.
Weekends are usually filled with some knd of activities, so it seldom feels like a proper date for us.
It was really good you know. Just like old times.
The late lunch was good. The aimless walking around Bugis was good. The movie was doubly doubly good. Thank you, you!

I just finished reading Diah's blog. I like to read her blog as most of the things that she writes about, I can relate to..especially about being a mother. Today's entry was about feeding her beautiful twins, who are about 1 or 2 months younger than my own handsome son. She talked about the satisfaction she got from preparing her babies' food herself an being there for EVERY feed. Satisfation that she didn't gt with her first daughter as she was working back then. About how miserable and guilty she felt at having to pass the responsibility to someone else, to rely on jars and jars of processed food. Hah! Sounds familiar? That's me, right now.

Like I said before, the irritating voice inside that's always questioning me on whether I've been doing things right. It didn't help that one day, a wise person had to comment that I haven't been doing such a great job being a mother since I do not prepare proper, real, cooked-by-myself food for Ryan. It was a harmless comment really. One that I know was not meant to hurt me or belittle me in any way. But it did hurt. It wrecked me inside for weeks to come. It's the same like the time when people 'cleverly' tsk-ed when I said that I barely breastfeed Ryan. They have no fucking idea what was going on and how badly affected I was. They had no idea how much I cried everytime it was Ryan's feeding time. They had no idea how hard I prayed that Ryan would drink his mother's milk. Shahreil kept saying that there must be a reason for everything that happens in life. It did calm me a little, but sometimes the feeling of being a failure would surface. Breastfeeding. Basic. And I failed. 'Proper', good solids. Failed once more. So much for being a good mother.

Sometimes I feel that everything's slipping out of control. Stuffs at work are piling but I always end up shelving everything away so as not to reach home too late so that I can take Ryan off Mak's hands. Stuffs at home are no better. I just looked at my laundry basket half an hour ago and started thinking, should I wake up earlier tomorrow to wash 1 load before I go to work since I have staff meeting tomorrow and Band on Friday and will be coming home late. How?

But, I will survive. I always do.