Baby the Third

I know we hear-talk-see too much about world cup already. Since it started, the production rate per gross capita is reduced by at least 20% at the same time as marital disputes increase by 37.3% from the total percentile of half of the 72% GDP of available first one third of the 94% of previous percentage. If that statistic doesn’t give you an idea on how roundish can football roundups be, go back to school. And this time, pay attention.

And so I am not going to be part of the statistics. I am not going to be one of those people who, for lack of ideas to blog but feels pressured to update anyhoe, just write world cup crap for the sake of having something new to put up. No way.

I am not going to talk about world cup or anything related to it.

I will write about marriages instead. How to make the marriage survive through come what may, through thick, thin, sick or sin - the ood way.

The first rule is to be willing to play in any position. Midfield, forward, stopper, defend, keeper, anything you can think of! Even linesman or plain spectator, be adventurous, wear many hats if you have to. To cheer each other up especially during stressful moments, dress for the occassion. Consistency and stamina are vital. Short spurts of energy is not good. The effort put in should be consistent. Get a good dose of isotonics and energy refreshing bars once in a while. And remember to do the crouch dance whenever any side scores. And never forget the golden rule too, play fair! It doesn’t matter who controls the game, so long as someone scores. While scoring is important, winning is not that big a deal. So long as you have fun and happy. And to be victorious, you just gotta work as a team. That way you can cover each other's weaknesses and capitalise on your combined strengths.

Since we are on the subject of marriage, I might as well announce the Rancangan Ood Ke-3. I am planning to be pregnant again soon. Yes. Maybe when Sun turns two and Dot four. Which is soon. Year end, perhaps, God willing.

When I was pregnant with Dot, it was World Cup Korea/Japan. I was so into the Japan team. Japan being the techie nation it is, I swear the players were all cyborgs. They were unstoppable until uh, they were stopped? I so wanted to name the baby Nakata or Inamoto. I asked my Arab friends whether the names meant anything bad in Arabic and he gave me the green light. No meaning at all, so I was all set to name the baby either Mohd Nakata or Ahmad Inamoto. But then the baby turned out to be a girl. How could I name any baby girl Nur Nakati? Sitinamotah? Hait? Nope. And I have written in earlier post on how Sun acquired his name, Erik Edman of Tottenham. Now, for the next baby I am thinking of naming him Omar Bravo or Redha Tukar or Golmohammadi. My kids can sue me later and go to court to change their names, and I will deal with that later. That is to be expected. Kids being kids, they don’t know what is good for them. Mothers know best. I should know.

There, a non-football-ish posting.