Lobo's Lessons

Being a stay at home dad for the first time in my life is not an easy thing. Salmah has reported for duty, and she was put to work straight away from day one. No down time at all. No time to do anything. To rest. To get the house settled. To enrol the kids to daycare, kindergarten and school. To get the Internet setup. Nada. But we have managed so far, fitting in whatever we can into our schedules, and me with my broken toes driving to and fro from Kulai to JB (45 mins each way) to get affairs settled. And of course, me being the say at home dad. Like I said it is not easy. There are so many things that I took for granted, things that are second nature to my wife, but a huge challenge for me. Things like getting the kids ready in the morning, making sure that they have eaten, bathed, worn their clothes, nappies, etc. And heavens me how hard is it to mobilise three boys when you need to go out for something? And how many hands does a stay at home Daddy need to manage everythi

Today was a good day for me. I went to work, went for prayers, played badminton. In short a good day (though still a bit lacking in the PhD department). Coming home from this high, I thought to myself "I want to do something with the family". But when I got home, Salmah was a bit tired, and Adam was taking his nap. So  the only person there was Adel, playing with his robots. I thought "hey why not?". I asked him if he wanted to follow to go window shopping. And he replied that he did. And so we took the Bimmer and drove off to the mall. When we arrived, we strolled round the shops, looking at things both of us were interested in (smartphones, gadgets and games). We talked. We joked. We walked hand in hand. And I realised that I had never done this with him before. At least not as an older boy. Sometimes as parents with more than one child, we forget that each and every one of our children need their own time with us. We always think of 'famil

I am in a bit of a quandary. I'm not sure how I feel. And I'm not even sure if it is appropriate for me to feel this way. I feel I need to break it down and analyse it to even begin to understand it. My father is a good, honest, and loving man who care than anything has an affinity towards helping people who he feels are deserving - good, honest people who need a leg up from whatever difficult circumstances life has handed them. He befriends them, procures their services if they have any, buys their products if they sell any, visits them on trips and even takes them along some, takes them in and gives them a sense of 'home' during the holidays, and a myriad other things. Such is my father. There have been many that he has gone through the process with, but there are a few that stand out. One was a school clerk from KL. One worked for JAL in KLIA. More recent was an Indonesian odd-jobs worker who was also a traditional massage therapist. Another was a n

If you ask me now, I wouldn't really be able to tell what life was like back in Malaysia. It's like it was another life altogether. To tell you the truth, the only bits and pieces that I do remember were going to work at uni, and then going to work tutoring the Koreans, and then going home, and then going to sleep... Oh of course there were the occasional nights out, movies, dinner and so on, but they seemed to pale in comparison to the crushing weight of work and responsibility. And if you were to ask me what I remembered of my son back home, I would say I remember him sleeping when I went to work, and sleeping when I got back from work... but of course there would be the weekends that we would enjoy together, where I would take him to the lake gardens and we would go jogging together with his mother, and we would end the morning with a trip to the local Mamak restaurant, where he would order his favourite items on the menu without fail - roti telur with dhal, and iced M

Finally contractions started at 11pm yesterday. 12.45am this morning Dad drove me and Sal to the Hospital. 1.35am finish registration. Go up to the maternity wards and find wife fully engaged and prepped for Labour Room. She is in so much pain. I can only hug her and kiss her before they cart her off to the Labour Room. I wait. I try to rest. I try to sleep. My chest feels tight. I wait. Hours pass by, each minute seeming like an eternity, as countless worries creep into my mind. How is she doing? Are they in danger? Were there any complications? Will I see her again in the morning? These thoughts course through my veins like poison, filling my mind with worry and dread. I wait... Until finally, the nurse calls me to go through the doors. It is 3.45am. I get up. Each step feels surreal. Until I walk through the doors to the Labour Room. And see my wife... and my little boy. I embrace them, letting all the worries of the night evaporate into the cold,

My sister Sameerah and her husband Bruce have just welcomed their daughter, Nichola Jannah Wallace into the world, after a worrying day and a half where little Nichola had to be warded in the neo-natal intensive care unit. It just so happens that God allowed me the opportunity to be in KL for a conference at the right time, though there were some hurdles along the way that I had to face. First off, I had to walk for about 5km from KLCC to Prince Court Medical Centre, based on terrible directions from a information receptionist who so obviously never walks anywhere. When I asked her how long it would take me to go from KLCC to Prince Court, she looked a bit perplexed, and said “Mmmmm... think about... 10 minutes?” 10 minutes my A**... It took 45minutes. And 5km.. On foot... In the rain... Wearing work clothes... Sigh... But I finally got there... in the end. But it was worth it to get to see my sister and brother-in-law, and of course, little Nichola. Welcome to the world my

It just happens so fast. It only seems like yesterday that I held my newborn son in my hands, so small and fragile... and I saw him opening his eyes for the very first time... Jet black eyes, seemingly so big and tender on his little face. And there he was this morning, waving goodbye to me, with his hand in his teacher's and walking towards the kindergarten. I remember the range of emotions I felt as I saw him walk away. I was proud that he was such a big boy, not crying going to school for the first time, in a sea full of strangers both big and small. I was happy, but as I drove away I became a little sad to know that my little boy had already started the next step of his journey. Pretty soon, he would be in school, and then high school and college...where he would start asking me for ever-growing amounts of money, borrow my car and put a dent in the bumper... And he would start chasing after girls (and If I read the cards right he's going to be chased around quite often too!

It used to be that I was almost a stranger to my son. I realised that throughout his first year of his 2 and a half-year life, my son would not feel secure unless his mother was there by his side... It wouldn't even matter if I was around or not... it simply did not make any difference to him. Things got slightly better the next year, but the fact of the matter was that it was nice if Daddy was around, but it wouldn't make too much of a difference, as long as Mummy was there. I may be slightly exaggerating there, but that is how it felt... I would go to work, and 2-3 times a week, come back at night when he was asleep... and when I was home, I would be more interested in relaxing rather than playing with him. But of course I would make the effort if I was feeling up to it. I realised that this pattern was not good for my relationship with my son... So I tried harder. I popped back from work during lunch just to bring him out to IOI Mall, where we'd get an Iced Milo and some

Birthdays in my family are usually a happy time - not because we'd have an over the top party or anything, but because it would be the time when the whole family would usually be together, just the share pizza and cake (if for no better reason). Yesterday was my sister Huda's birthday (Huda the genius - definitely my father's genes all over), but we celebrated it today. Before the party I had the task of looking for her birthday present... The thing is, it's kind of hard to buy presents for girls - buy them a dress and it's not their colour...buy them a skirt and it doesn't fit...so on and so on...so what did I do? Called up the wife and asked for Huda's shoe size...called up my sister Salihah and asked her Huda's shoe size...and bought the safest pair of shoes that were fashionable and could be worn with most colour combinations (and on sale of course!)...hehehehehe... I was so glad she liked them! However, the party itself was where it hit me the most.

How do you decide if the person that you are with will be The One? This is a rather tough question I think, one that does not have a real solid answer.  Do you list down all the criteria you look for in a perfect match, and tick them down methodically as you progress through a number of partners, and then decide who scores the highest? Do you look for someone who can give you the security of a good marriage - good religious upbringing, loving personality, safe relationship? Or do you go on the wild side, and look for someone who makes your world go round, someone who makes sparks fly when you are with them, someone who fills you with the highest level of passion? Is that what you would look for in a marriage? Of course, ideally, you would want it to be a combination of all the above, but what if you don't get all that, and you had to choose between the two?...  Or would you let God help you in making that decision... In making impossible to make the choice, until The One indeed com

It was like time stood still as I walked through the passageways of the Kulai Hospital... So many memories, both good and bad... But the best memory here would be walking down these very halls to see my newborn son, just over two years ago. Two years and still fresh in my mind, the feelings of absolute rapture, of absolute love, when I first held my little boy in my hands... My son.  De ja vu... But this time, as I enter the ward, I am greeted by the the tired smile of my sister-in-law, spent from 36 hours of labour, looking every bit as tired as my own dear wife when she delivered too. My mother looking lovingly at her second grandchild... Two days before the wedding of her own second child - my sister. My brother, every bit the proud father, looking adoringly, almost moony-eyed, at his newborn daughter. Welcome to the family, Aimie Sophie Binti Ammar... Long have we waited for you, my little niece.

It is almost that time of the year again.  Children aren't complaining as much as they used to, as if transfixed on an idea of what the next few days would promise them.  Adults seem to have a distant look in their eyes, as they mentally start their journeys of 'balik kampung', even before the workday is officially over. Excitement is buzzing through the air,  and everywhere, the atmosphere seems charged with an almost magical energy. Eid is only a few days away... Soon the hunger will be satisfied.  Soon the wallets will be full of money 'extorted' from relatives.  Soon the happy faces of family and loved ones arriving at the doorsteps, arms outstretched  and full of embrace. As the countdown to Raya grows nearer, families start their ritual traditions...Some start buying ingredients to prepare the sumptuous array of ketupat, rendang, and sambal kacang. Some start taking their best curtains out to the wash, or even buy new curtains to show off to the neighbours. My

The vigil is over.   From Him we come, and to Him we return.   Al-Fatihah for my late grandmother. May Allah take her soul into His care...

Being hospitalised changes you. You are no more the same person after spending an extended period of time in a hospital bed. I should know... I was warded for almost 2 weeks. Every day asking the Almighty "will I make it through this?", and praying, every second of the day "Lord, please help me through this... I want to see my beautiful wife, my darling little boy, my loving family..." These thoughts streamed constantly through my mind, like a litany for the forsaken... And though its OK most of the time for me, there are certain times when the phobia overtakes me...   And this is one of those times... I am now in the hospital ward, keeping vigil for my grandmother, who may very well be on her deathbed. Just half an hour ago, I relieved my father, who had been by her side for hours...His mother...the woman who was his world...who brought him and raised him in the best way possible... I walked up to my father, clasped his hands and kissed him on the

No one can describe how proud I was of my brother... 6 years my junior... All grown up... The moment when they announced his name in the hall... I stood up and clapped, and a dozen other lecturers and professors clapped in unison, all wondering who this whizzkid was who got the single standing ovation of the entire convocation... I smiled... That was my brother... The kid I loved to pieces as a teenager... I was his idol... his mentor... his elder brother... The young adult I watched grow apart, as he struck his own footsteps in the sands of time, no longer stepping in mine... It was a painful realisation... A lesson I had to learn... but I knew he had to walk his own path... Choose his own destiny... Where I would only exist as an observer... And so I observed... how this boy became an adult... and how this adult became a man... And so I clapped, even as the clapping of others ceased... A solitary man in glistening robes... clapping for the man who was his pride and jo