Yes, it’s just day 5 but I’m already almost drained, in all aspects. I can feel myself at the tip, breaking down at any moment. The lack of sleep, the crying of the baby, the old folks’ rules, and lastly, my poor sore, cracked and bleeding nipples.
And I thought that being at my parents’ house would be A LOT better than staying in the hospital… I thought…
It’s not even a day since I’m back and I think I’ve had enough, almost enough, and I wished so much then, that I’m still back in the hospital, with the reason that none of us (little milkie and me) is sick. Why do I say that? Because the rules of the confinement are driving me nuts. And it’s not just from ONE source, it’s from every individual auntie. But just TWO of them will probably do the job of driving me crazy, and one uncle that somehow, I just couldn’t really communicate much at this point. These 3 person are none other than my parents and my MIL.
So what now?
On top of the fatigue, the cries and the pain, the weather is a killer. Yes, I know, it’s July and the weather won’t be anytime good. But it really can drives one mad when you CAN’T bathe. Hey! What happened to all those stories and theories which I mentioned before I gave birth, and those nods in agreement? Gone down the drain? OBVIOUSLY!
Apparently, my mum had either turned a deaf ear against those words that I said earlier on – such as “I would want to bathe”, or someone (probably more than one) had been psycho-ing her not to let me bathe. And that’s killing me! Imagine yourself covered with layers of milk and sweat, and all you can do is “dry-clean” your body. And then after that your hair becomes a little oily and itchy. Rashes started appearing. You felt sticky and smelly all over, but no matter how you appeal, it was rejected totally with added naggings. And so you continued to tolerate THESE nonsense so that you can have a little peace of mind because the bathing issue is ONLY one small part.
Food. Back in the hospital, you can eat anything and everything. After all, as long as it’s in the menu, the aunties CAN’T do much about it. But back at home. HAH! I’m not allowed to eat this and that, and that. And then the worse thing is, the food is PATHETIC! I almost wanted to sack the chef (my dad) immediately! Just the third meal at home and I had totally lost my temper, mood and appetite. That’s how great the food is, considering the fact that I’m not always so particular on my food. But if you were to see the kind of food that I’m eating now, and if it’s going to be like that for every meal, I might as well just live on wholemeal bread and milo!!
Oh yes, I’m pissed. Very pissed.
And then there’s the no blowing of fan NOR air-con. Wow… no air-con either… GREAT! I’m perspiring and perspiring, and perspiring almost non-stop! The top that I’m wearing is practically WET at 80% of the time. Goodness Lord!
Then the naggings continued… “You have to wear the slippers.” (Yes, and my feet are itching all over because it’s covered with sweat and I can’t bathe nor wash it), “You can’t touch cold nor tap water.” (Erm… even if there’s the heater, it’s direct from tap! It’s so freaking troublesome to wait for the boiled water to cool down!), “Don’t bend!” (Then STOP putting everything on the floor when I put it on the chair just now!), “Shouldn’t drink so much water, should drink the longan water instead.” (I’m getting DEHYDRATED. Do you know what is DEHYDRATED?), “No, no, can’t eat this because…” (WTF), “You are going to get rheumatism when you get old.” (Right, you followed and you are aching ALL OVER TOO. HAH.)…
Whoever that started all these rules for confinement, and for different cultures etc., and to all those old people who went through one month or even longer of not bathing at all. I, .La, HEREBY WORSHIPPED YOU. Orz.