Family
Dinner with the family has always been a chaotic affair and this has not changed as I found out on Friday night. My dad is a very happy man when he spends. He never fails to over-order everything. My eldest sister, the antithesis of my dad in all things financial, complains of its excessiveness. The rest of my family joins half-heartedly knowing that some food will not be finished but actually resigned to my dad's whims. He waves off our protests, "Makan ajelah. Makan makan! Murah lah!" - Eat eat. Its cheap lah.
The table is crowded with dishes. Sambal ikan pari, sambal sotong, tom yam, kerang, nasi, sayur and more was coming. My dad is satisified to see the table filled with food while my mom and sister sits disgruntled trying to fit everything on the table.
When four plates of boiled cockles arrives, my second sister announces that she refuses to eat clams because she does not want to get hepatitis. I inform her that she's been vaccinated.
My mom chats away on the phone, writing down numbers on small pieces of paper. It's a standard series of questions. Agent? Buying or selling? Where? What type? Malay can buy? Handphone number? In my family, work and play go together. Calls come in regardless of hour or day. And all need to be answered. My dad has a handphone earpiece permanently attached to his ear. If you didn't know where to look, you would think he was arguing with himself.
Being the latest celebrity, my niece and nephew scramble to get my attention. It is really not me who they want. To them life is a simple competition to get the most attention. Lutfi climbs into my my lap and sits himself quite comfortably directing me to place ikan pari bakar and sambal sotong on his plate. He has the most beautiful smile. His chinese eyes will turn into small slits as he tilts his head ever so slightly and delivers his very bashful smile that was designed to melt any woman's heart. Ten minutes later, he demands a drink. I point to a glass of plain water. He shakes his head. Sugarcane juice?Again he shakes his head. Coke? Soyabean? Shakes his head again.
Teh susu?
Affirmative. I raise my brow questioningly at my sister. She updates me that Lutfi drinks his dad's coffee everyday when his dad is not looking. My nephew I am proud to say, is fast on the track to caffeine dependency.
Darwisyah, my niece is sitted next to me. She leans into me and chats away a thousand miles a minute while she creates an unrecognisable pile of food on her plate. Halala this. Halala that. She never seems to be out of breath. She informs me that her hair has grown longer and like most females, requests to check out the competition. I tell her she can't peek at my hair in public but assures her mine is way longer than hers. She ponders about this for a while but like all five year olds, this takes only several seconds before she came to the resolute decision that she plans to keep it longer.
My mak never orders teh susu when we're out. Besides the fact that she has diabetes and refrains from sweet drinks, she enjoys drinking my teh susu. Not anyone's teh susu. But mine. I wait for her to request for it. First she asks me whether it tastes good. Then I answer, "Boleh lah." - Oklah. This is important as no one makes better teh susu than my mak.
Satisfied that I've not found a better teh susu maker, she then asks to taste it.
"Sikit aje. Nak rasa kalau best ke tak." - A bit only, just want to taste if it's good. This is the excuse she makes to herself whenever she feels guilty about drinking teh susu.
After a few sips, she declares she makes better teh susu and finishes my drink.
My brothers have not changed. Ali looks more built, dark as ever and marks of his wild motorcycle activities are evident. Munir is the same, busy as always, going places with his new auto car. Everyone's busy as usual in Singapore. People everywhere. Busy busy busy.
Another two weeks to my cousin's wedding and more family will be coming down from Malaysia. I've just realised that I need three baju glam for my cousin's wedding. But I've only got two. Crisis man.
Looking forward to the wedding! It's been a while since we've had one in the family. Yayness.
The table is crowded with dishes. Sambal ikan pari, sambal sotong, tom yam, kerang, nasi, sayur and more was coming. My dad is satisified to see the table filled with food while my mom and sister sits disgruntled trying to fit everything on the table.
When four plates of boiled cockles arrives, my second sister announces that she refuses to eat clams because she does not want to get hepatitis. I inform her that she's been vaccinated.
My mom chats away on the phone, writing down numbers on small pieces of paper. It's a standard series of questions. Agent? Buying or selling? Where? What type? Malay can buy? Handphone number? In my family, work and play go together. Calls come in regardless of hour or day. And all need to be answered. My dad has a handphone earpiece permanently attached to his ear. If you didn't know where to look, you would think he was arguing with himself.
Being the latest celebrity, my niece and nephew scramble to get my attention. It is really not me who they want. To them life is a simple competition to get the most attention. Lutfi climbs into my my lap and sits himself quite comfortably directing me to place ikan pari bakar and sambal sotong on his plate. He has the most beautiful smile. His chinese eyes will turn into small slits as he tilts his head ever so slightly and delivers his very bashful smile that was designed to melt any woman's heart. Ten minutes later, he demands a drink. I point to a glass of plain water. He shakes his head. Sugarcane juice?Again he shakes his head. Coke? Soyabean? Shakes his head again.
Teh susu?
Affirmative. I raise my brow questioningly at my sister. She updates me that Lutfi drinks his dad's coffee everyday when his dad is not looking. My nephew I am proud to say, is fast on the track to caffeine dependency.
Darwisyah, my niece is sitted next to me. She leans into me and chats away a thousand miles a minute while she creates an unrecognisable pile of food on her plate. Halala this. Halala that. She never seems to be out of breath. She informs me that her hair has grown longer and like most females, requests to check out the competition. I tell her she can't peek at my hair in public but assures her mine is way longer than hers. She ponders about this for a while but like all five year olds, this takes only several seconds before she came to the resolute decision that she plans to keep it longer.
My mak never orders teh susu when we're out. Besides the fact that she has diabetes and refrains from sweet drinks, she enjoys drinking my teh susu. Not anyone's teh susu. But mine. I wait for her to request for it. First she asks me whether it tastes good. Then I answer, "Boleh lah." - Oklah. This is important as no one makes better teh susu than my mak.
Satisfied that I've not found a better teh susu maker, she then asks to taste it.
"Sikit aje. Nak rasa kalau best ke tak." - A bit only, just want to taste if it's good. This is the excuse she makes to herself whenever she feels guilty about drinking teh susu.
After a few sips, she declares she makes better teh susu and finishes my drink.
My brothers have not changed. Ali looks more built, dark as ever and marks of his wild motorcycle activities are evident. Munir is the same, busy as always, going places with his new auto car. Everyone's busy as usual in Singapore. People everywhere. Busy busy busy.
Another two weeks to my cousin's wedding and more family will be coming down from Malaysia. I've just realised that I need three baju glam for my cousin's wedding. But I've only got two. Crisis man.
Looking forward to the wedding! It's been a while since we've had one in the family. Yayness.
Comments
PS: Bal is here as im typing this out!!~ *winks*
helldove: thanks. I will.
very cute.
:)
She keep talking about you-know-who!!.. =p
non: kids. seriously.
YaYa