The Rambling Of A Sweeping Mom

A few days ago, while I was sweeping the floor, I have this sudden thought of how wasteful my life has been. It could be because of the dust that I inhaled that went straight inside my head, Idk.

I told myself this is the kind of job that I could easily pay others to do if I decide not to be a housewife and be a career woman. What am I doing all these years wasting my education and intelligence for mundane house chores like this.

I should have send these children to daycare right after I completed my 2 months maternity leave or hire a maid to take care of them.

There’s a Malaysian woman aged 27, an astrophysics Phd candidate who found a supermassive black hole and here I am finding lump of black dust under the children bed. And occasionaly I do find black poop in dirty diaper as well. Where were I when I was 27?

As I tried to console the crazy thought that keep on growing inside my head which in reality is full of crazy hairs (as testified by my autistic son), my iman whispered about “pahala menyapu sampah di rumah umpama menyapu baitullah” and my head retaliated by saying, for all I know it could be one of the many famous hadis palsu circulated to keep Muslim women happy to do house chores. That I have to ask the hadith expert to clarify. And as I keep on sweeping more toys underneath the sofa while my second son kept on throwing his building blocks, I asked myself, why am I doing all this?

I never imagine growing up to be a housewife. Ages ago when I filled up the top 5 ambitions in the primary school personal data card, surirumah was never a choice.

In 2 months time, I will be 38. If some astrologer’s prediction that I die young really comes true, I hope I live long enough to see my second son grows beyond his 6 years of early life.

There’s a research that shows that for boys, a secure mother attachment in the first year is essential for optimal male socioemotional development. I hope for the past 8 years, despite the lack of sleep and constant battle inside my head, I have been able to provide both of them the attachment they need.

As I was sorting out the splattered toys from the dirt, it came to my mind about one article I read, written by a mom about how nobody knows who built the cathedral but most are awed by the majestic beauty of it.


In 30 years time, as these boys will be all grown up, I hope my devotion won’t be a waste. If they couldn’t be as grand as the cathedral, I want them to be like a castle by the lake, quaint yet serene, strong and dependable to those who love them.

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