A towel for your dip

I have a corny fear for swimming pools - empty ones that is. Growing up watching english movies which had dutch subtitles by the likes of The Boogeyman, and a quirky one with the scene of these babes in the swimming pool ( I think they were blind) and the crazy scientist cum healer who was supposedly treating their blindness - releasing a whole family of snakes into the pool sort of tarnished my memory for good. That was the affirmation that led me to believe swimming pools were CURSED. 

And now, I am a mother of two and that means jack. 

Cause I am still afraid of swimming pools.

There was once a period in my life where public pools excite me.

I had a gunny sack all ready with the essentials, a banana boat spf50 sunblock which never gave me blemishes, a purple colored swimsuit which I thought was so me - you could tell it was me from afar, random collection of swimming caps as I never understood why you'd want to keep your hair tidy if you were going for a dip nor do they keep head lice away, and an unruly array of towels that I could never keep track of...at least they were clean towels.

Back then I did have a semi-identity crisis if you may. I loved water sports, but I was also a hijab donning chick. Public pools sort of confuse me. Sure I was self-conscious. Turn on numb mode, pay the lowly fee of rm5 or rm6 depending on where I was and I'd shrug it off in the changing room, while checking out the crowd (if there were any in the shower stalls).  Get my gear on and into the pool I go. Oh, and I almost never shower before jumping in unless theres someone watching.

As much as swimming is an individual effort and sport, the busy flutter kicks and strokes that ripple through the water is something that I welcome, the pool immediately feels warm. 

We don't say much - no matter how hard we've tried, we just didn't need to. The sun was shading everything a delicious bronze. You'd squint at me and I'd smile back, our way of saying "I'm OK, are you?" We didn't stop for long as we're running out of daylight. Mentally I keep track of the laps I've made and averaged them out with my split times, so I save the last few laps to practise on my butterfly. A stroke so beautiful and graceful that never seems to be getting enough love from me. 

You were there, we both were, but we swam anyways because the warmth felt so good.

The flutter kicks, hard strokes and roll overs continue, as the hours go by and we don't say anything until we get to the car.  Famished.

We were both there, that day. 

Only years later did we realize the warmth we felt was from our hearts beating to the same stroke, pounding away in rhythm, and when we stopped swimming, all we were left with was pieces of our swimming suits that we could no longer fit into, scratched goggles, swimming caps that seemed to have doubled in number, my super soiled towel- and all I can recall fondly now was how your sideways grin crept up your face as you offered me your towel instead.

Wanderlusting again

Its that time of the year again, where my feed on social media is flooded with pictures of my friends on their excursions. Financial crisis what? It doesn't seem to be affecting anyone to any extent that a cold eye view would reveal. Ah social media. You only upload what you want the world to know about you. 

I've been lazying around at home blissfully and with two boys under my watch I've realized how much Mika has grown up - both physically and mentally. While currently working on his first year photo album, I browsed across photos from our Nepal trip.. You were just a baby! Still pudgy, still learning to understand rules and had zero clue what we were doing out there in the wilderness. I want to take you places, and perhaps you won't recall a thing, but the timing of good health is now.. Anyways, don't ever say I never took you anywhere.

Where to, where to?

I have an unrelenting itch to take out our winter gear as my heart is tremendously fond of snow and I wanted a bit more than a trip to the beach - and chocolate everything. 

Your Ramadhan

Oh wow how time has passed me by. 

Ramadan, bittersweet and anxious at the same time. How will I fair, with Mika, with you onboard for the whole 30 days. This is a first!

You are agitated and tired. Can't survive a day without eating heavily during sahur. And man, you are so cranky when its close to sundown. I am amazed. 

Here I am, at week 34, hopping about literally like a penguin. And yet you go about hastily buying air bandung (which only after a week did you understand the fact that you had to buy me one as well) and we even purchased an enormous tumbler for you to drink out of. What a child!!

And yet you remain simple and plain, only wanting rice and chicken. Additional finger foods are fun but never expected. I really had it easy, compared to some of my other friends. 

And as a mother, this life is really about others - your dependents, your parents, your partner. Never will it ever be about you. Which, is just as good as a reason for me to go serious crazy shoe shoping.

This month alone I bought seven pairs of fancy footwear. 

My weeks

Oh wow. I wanted to write earlier but this got stuck in the process.

I miss my weeks, tired and exhausted I was getting through them. True, what they say about age taking its toll if you decide to have kids at a later age. I had Mika when I was 27. But it wasn't after having him that I had the time and 'life' to start running and continued with yoga.

I'm a mother of two now, its quite overwhelming. Before it just felt like I was left in charge of just one person solely when I had Mika, and now I'm responsible for two little hearts (nagging and crying and constantly seeking attention).

I wake up with much ease for the feedings, and only once or twice had trouble putting Alex to sleep. 

The more I am on this journey, the more I feel like I don't really need anything other than my own two hands to make things happen. Please keep me close to You, so that I don't start losing my marbles on this road that makes me feel quite alone.