Sean is taking his morning nap now as I put my legs up and surf the net on the lappie(s).
The floor is mopped, the play area is somewhat packed and tidied, and it looks all set for his afternoon playtime.
Now that I'm not pumping, I have all the time in the world to do housework.
Yes, I've been lucky enough to siam all that since Sean's birth.
We do have a part-time helper who comes every Saturday to clean up the place.
But while I mop the floor everyday now, it disgusts me to see that the water the mop dispenses is still a tinge of yucky brown. This goes to show how dirty the place can be.
And now Sean is so keen to be on the floor walking around on his push-cart, it has become quite an obsession for me to make sure that the floor is cleaned and mopped everyday.
Sometimes I wonder.
Am I ever being appreciated for all that I've done?
Humans take things for granted too easily.
I could have taken Steve for granted, not knowing that his work is tough too.
But too often recently, I lament.
Never mind that Steve is bringing us along to Beijing for his conference end September.
Never mind that Steve brings home dinner everyday.
Never mind that Steve sometimes helps to cook Sean's porridge in the morning.
I lament that I'm not being appreciated.
I lament that I'm being taken for granted.
I lament that my efforts at breastfeeding Sean for the past year plus has been regarded as mediocre.
I lament that why must I always be the one feeding Sean and sitting beside Sean, having my eardrums suffering while gobbling down my food?
I lament that everytime I want to buy something for myself, I have to put my hands out asking for money.
And I DO make sure that things that I buy are never too expensive. It's almost always less than $20 each time.
Yet not everytime my request was granted.
The floor is mopped, the play area is somewhat packed and tidied, and it looks all set for his afternoon playtime.
Now that I'm not pumping, I have all the time in the world to do housework.
Yes, I've been lucky enough to siam all that since Sean's birth.
We do have a part-time helper who comes every Saturday to clean up the place.
But while I mop the floor everyday now, it disgusts me to see that the water the mop dispenses is still a tinge of yucky brown. This goes to show how dirty the place can be.
And now Sean is so keen to be on the floor walking around on his push-cart, it has become quite an obsession for me to make sure that the floor is cleaned and mopped everyday.
Sometimes I wonder.
Am I ever being appreciated for all that I've done?
Humans take things for granted too easily.
I could have taken Steve for granted, not knowing that his work is tough too.
But too often recently, I lament.
Never mind that Steve is bringing us along to Beijing for his conference end September.
Never mind that Steve brings home dinner everyday.
Never mind that Steve sometimes helps to cook Sean's porridge in the morning.
I lament that I'm not being appreciated.
I lament that I'm being taken for granted.
I lament that my efforts at breastfeeding Sean for the past year plus has been regarded as mediocre.
I lament that why must I always be the one feeding Sean and sitting beside Sean, having my eardrums suffering while gobbling down my food?
I lament that everytime I want to buy something for myself, I have to put my hands out asking for money.
And I DO make sure that things that I buy are never too expensive. It's almost always less than $20 each time.
Yet not everytime my request was granted.
"You've already bought one last week."
"This looks like the one you already have."
"You have too many clothes/shoes."
All these not knowing that my chest can no longer fit into those tight tops meant for 70As.
All these not knowing that I just want to make myself feel better by dressing up a bit more other than in just stupid t-shirts.
All these not knowing that I so want to feel pretty and nice again, and not just a big fat cow.
Ok, so after all these ramblings, I go back to sanity.
How much clothes do I really need? It's not as if I need to go out and work. It's not as if I AM going out everyday.
It's not as if I am slim again.
It's not as if I have so many bodies or pairs of legs to put on all those clothes and shoes.
So bottomline is, I should just shut up and go back to taking good care of Sean, taking good care of the housechores, taking good care of the husband.
The biggest regret then I think, would be I WISH I can take better care of myself.
This all boils down to the fact that I'm a sallow-skinned Stay-At-Home-Mum with zero financial independence.
Or I could just blame it on the mad-swinging hormones.
Someone, give me a break please....
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