Too Much Noise

Sitting in a corner of the house at 6.28am, enjoying the peace and quiet with a splitting headache. I just realised that I love quiets, a lot, way too much than I know. And it’s getting more and more on my nerves when those noises came up.

It is not, ┬áthe noise of my dad’s snores. Yeah, he is snoring away, about 4m away from me. That is the sound I am hearing now other than the chirping of the birds and the cars moving right on the road in front.

It is not, the irritating music from my alarms that I had set to wake myself up, of which I didn’t use today because I woke up before that.

It is not, the sound of the TV that woke me up, of which my dad switched it on, showing the Care Bears using the new DVD, for little milo to watch at 5am in the morning.

It is not, the cries of little milo who refused to sleep and bullied my dad, and insisted him on doing this and that.

It is, the complaints from the lil’ hub that I am most irritated about. His voice is beginning to sound like those made by the houseflies.

It is, my scoldings against my parents, if any, triggered partly due to the lil’ hub’s naggings that I am pissed about.

You see, I don’t really like to scold people, especially elders. Though at times I am really irritated, I will try to calm down and talk nicely. But it doesn’t work when the lil’ hub is there. He will think that I am not doing anything, and that will surely spark another argument, with him using hurtful words against myself and/or my parents. It is to an extent where at times I do feel like chasing him out of the house, after all, it is my parents. It is also at times where I secretly tell myself that he better make sure that his mum never make a wrong move. It is also at times like this, that I wondered about the question that little milkie asked me a few times, “Why do I want to marry a boy like that?”

I am a sucker for hugs and kisses. I am honest. I told him a long time ago, reminding him along the way. But it probably had reached a point where I do not feel like reminding, and I do not feel like giving, and I do not feel like accepting even if he was to start giving it now. IF, that is, IF…

He probably didn’t know how serious it is, likewise like most men. Though I tried to be as open as I am, so that he doesn’t have to read my mind, the lil’ hub seems to always just live in his world of biting nails and watching TV.

The distance is there, and it’s getting further.

It wasn’t a happy Sunday yesterday, with the lil’ hub throwing temper after little milo insisted on drinking milk and thus crying, and spitted out his own food but kept getting from the lil’ hub’s bowl. And on top of that, little milkie wanted to order plain water (which cost $0.90) because she was thirsty and her bottle wasn’t here. And so he flared up and scolded them and said that this will be the last time that he will bring them out, and then stormed off to take the bag of barangs, which he didn’t down. And when I told it could be solved by him just bringing the bag down, he told me that there wasn’t anything that little milkie needed (her water bottle is also inside), so I should be the one to bring down since I brought little milo to the class. Yes, it IS my fault again. I should bring down the bag and into the class, with my own handbag, carrying little milo, and let it be a distraction to him while in the class because he knows his milk is inside (while he just needs to bring little milkie to McDonald’s to eat). Bravo but never mind. I already had no idea how to differentiate who is in the right or wrong. Just take it as it is my fault. Any further arguments will just lead to “This will not happen if I never insisted on sending them to Heguru!”.

Yes, it will ALWAYS be my fault.

Well, we moved on from there. Little milkie cried because she was pissed. Little milo roamed around nearby while waiting. I had to clean up the sh*t but I never stopped the lil’ hub from scolding. I shouldn’t right? Right.

So, we went to a few other places before going back to our new place because I had to finish some IKEA cabinets. The lil’ hub looked tired so I reckoned to let him get some sleep while I nagged at the kids while fixing the shelves and eventually got little milkie to help me. The moment he woke up, he complained that my uncle, who helped us paint the house, did not lock the window properly, and that he was smoking in our balcony and dropping the ashes on the floor that day. Sigh… that was the reason why I didn’t like the idea of asking my relative to do any kind of reno for us. But okay fine, since he agreed to it too, FINE.

At least, I thought, if it didn’t really start well, it should at least end well. So when the lil’ hub volunteered to buy food for us after that, I went back to unpack and bathe the kids. Fair and square.

He came back, tried to feed little milo but that rascal spitted it out (as usual), and that was it. The lil’ hub kept on scolding and saying that he’s not going to let him eat anymore but when little milo kept asking for other food, he obliged (wtf). And then he finally said out loud, “It’s because you all kept pampering him.”

That does it.

Definition of pamper: Let the kid do whatever they want without scolding. I had been hearing my mum scolding and sometimes beating little milo if he did that. My dad maybe not. Definitely not I. That’s the majority against the minority.

Pamper is when…

The kid want to eat some food, the mum IMMEDIATELY go and buy for him.

Pamper is when…

The kid is going on a holiday, and the mum needs to pack his clothes for him.

Pamper is when…

The kid scolded the mum for buying the wrong food, or cooking food that is not nice, and the mum just sits silently there…

Pamper is when the kid is already in his 30s and it is still happening.

DON’T ever tell me that my kids are being pampered.

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