Fa inna ma'al usri yusraa, Inna ma'al usri yusraa
Something amazing has happened almost every day this week, and I need to blog about it before I forget and lose the utter beauty and wonder of it all-
Khalid is talking.
If someone leaves a room, he says Bye-Bye. If he wants food, he opens the fridge and says Eat. When he wants a drink, he announces 'Juice!' until he gets some. He woke Ruth up the other day by poking her and saying "On!" and two days ago, when Khalid wasn't very keen on the beef stir-fry we had for lunch, he turned his head and very clearly said "No!"
All of this progress is just since the May 26th post, The Sweetest ROI. It's almost like Khalid has had his Hellen Keller moment, and now that he understands what words are for, he's using them whenever he can. He knocks on the door and says "Open!"and when someone honked in traffic the other day, Khalid answered with "Beep Beep!"
Yesterday, he walked into the kitchen and loudly called out Sheeeeeeep! He's copying words he hears in WordWorld. And that's not even the best part. Today, Ruth and the kids went one way in the mall while I went to the other to buy groceries. After I had checked out, I pulled my phone out to call Ruth and the kids back, but before I could dial the number, I heard a distant and chirpy little voice call out Mamaa! I turned around incredulously, and there, a few shops down, was Khalid, running gleefully in my direction. He's never called me before. And now, he called out to me and ran into my arms.
Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah.
And later today, during the long drive back home, Ruth had been tickling Khalid by saying 'Buzzzzz!' and then poking him in the stomach. We call this electric fingers. Well, this same evening, Khalid walked up to me and poked his fingers into my stomach and shouted Buzz! looking at me with delighted anticipation. It took him two times to get the message across (Buzz, Buzz!!) but onceI got it, we had a hysterical laugh and I let him tickle me.
He tickled me.
And then he ran off to go bounce on his bed, and I IM'ed my sister, called my husband, and danced around the house out of joy. And I'm still walking on air. It's midnight right now, but if I could call anyone else I would. But I can't, so I'm blogging about it instead because I want to remember this forever and share it with everyone within earshot. Khalid tickled me!!!
Six months ago, Khalid was non-verbal, aversive to being cuddled, almost impossible to interact with, threw tantrums constantly and was physically aggressive to the point that I used to keep him at arm's length- literally. If Khalid ran up to me then, it was because he was going to scratch or pinch or hit me, so before he got there, I redirected him and moved away. He kicked doors and cabinets and banged his head against walls and mirrors and the floor. He would cry so hard he'd get a nose bleed, wake up in the night screaming, and was so in his own world that it was hard to believe he wasn't deaf. That, in case I've never spelled it out before, is the tip of the autism iceberg.
It may be false hope, or euphoria from the electric fingers talking, but this is the first time that I have an image in my mind of Khalid's future as a normal, independent, young man- going to school, getting a degree, having friends, holding a job, getting married... Compare this to the image I've been trying to block out for months- Khalid needing constant care, feeding, diapering- even into adulthood. And I don't want to talk about how it feels, as a parent, to wonder what will happen to your special needs child after you die. The world is a cruel place. They're only special to you. To everyone else, they're just freaks, and it's easier to forget about them than to care for them.
But that's depressing, and right now, I want to luxuriate in this wonder and absolute joy. And while I can't say I've reached a point where I'm happy that Khalid has autism, I am definitely at a point where I understand that if Khalid never had autism, then I would never know this kind of happiness. I would never have had to develop such patience, or experience how rewarding it is to see progress in a labor of love.
Fa inna ma'al usri yusraa
Inna ma'al usri yusraa.
Therefore, after hardship will always come ease.
Verily, after hardship will always come ease.
Labels: Autism, BebeFiles
We're up on the soapbox again!
And we need your help to get votes!
Khalid and I have entered a slideshow about Autism into powerpoint competition on Slideshare.net. The judges will only view the presentations with the most votes, so basically- you could have an award-winning presentation, but if no one votes for it, it's not even in the running.
So yes, we need votes, and we need your mother's votes, and your sister's votes, and your uncle-in-law's votes, so if you wanna support Autism awareness, or if you would like to see blurry photos of Khalid and I in a slideshow, please watch our entry! And share the link with your uncle-in-law!
Thank Yous!
Labels: Autism
The sweetest ROI
'ama 'ug!
(Translation: Momma, hug!)
Khalid said Momma. And then he said hug. And then I gave him the squeeziest of all Momma Squeezes and asked him to say it again. And he did. And then I hugged him again and sent him on his merry way to play with a puzzle, because if you hug him too much he just gets irritated. But still. He called me Momma. And he hugged me. And because I've waited three years to be called Momma, I think I'm entitled to some tears of joy.
Alhamdulillah.
Labels: Autism
To paraphrase David Allen-
There are some days when the only thing you're good for is filling the stapler. On those days, the most productive thing you can do is fill the stapler. There is no point in trying to answer your email or put together a proposal or talk to an important client on the phone. You haven't the brainpower for it, so just be content to fill the stapler.
Today is a day for filling staplers. But not too many of them, because they look heavy and complicated.
I'm sitting in corner of Khalid's therapy center with the laptop on my knees and a cup of black coffee by my side, I've also consumed copius amounts of decongestant, paracetemol, and herb tea. I'm feeling like Ms.Pestilience 2009- and I probably look the part too. I'm the lump in the corner with the hacking cough, blocked nose, and miserable looking eyes. I got me some bad germs. -koff-
I've been staring at my computer, dutifully composing and recomposing the same email for the last forty minutes. I finally picked out the last of the typos, fragments, and goobledygook that working under the influence of germs tends to produce and mailed it. Now I need a break. There's a coffee shop downstairs and I hope they have chicken soup.
Where O Where is Khalid?
Notice, no eye holes. Thank God we have soft furniture!  Labels: Autism
Let's talk tonsils.
So, tonsils. They're these things that don't apparently do much. I say apparently because they must be there for a reason, it's just not apparent to us what it is yet. The sole purpose of mine seemed to be the harbouring of illegal rabble-rousing bacteria who contributed to regular throat infections. Pharyngitis, laryngitis, you name it, and I've had an -itis in it, and it probably meant antibiotics and losing my voice, or worse- finding my voice sounding like a chain-smoking truck driver, one that HF affectionately named Frank.
So about my tonsils. They're gone now. But they are making darn sure I won't forget them. SubhanAllah for your health, Alhamdulillah- the ability to do something as simple as swallow is a blessing that you don't appreciate until unable to, you end up spitting blood into tissues while your body convulses in pain. I am not being dramatic. I am being honest. Alhamdulillah, I think the worst may be over, but that could be because my orthopedic surgeon (who had nothing to do with the tonsillectomy) saw me this afternoon for a follow-up and graciously prescribed me a shot of painkillers. He's a Good. Person.
Around half an hour after the shot, I was able to see the world a little more optimistically, as well as swallow my own spit, and once the warm numbness spread throughout the rest of my throat, HF and I hightailed it to Tony Roma's, where I had my first meal in three days. I washed it down with three huge glasses of iced tea. That was four hours ago. The pain killers will be wearing off soon, and I'm guessing that my outlook on this whole tonsillectomy thing will get much bleaker when it does, but for the moment, I think I'm ok. Iman is sitting on my desk eating cheerios and laughing just a few inches away from the keyboard. Khalid and HF are out dropping off Ruth- it's her day off, and she's worked hard juggling both kids while I've been out of commission, and she really needs the break.
My brain feels a bit fuzzy, and I'm pretty sure that this blog entry will make less sense later than it does now. Also, thank God for spellcheck.
The End.
All the cool kids are coming...
AssalamuAlaikum Everybodies! As everyone and their mother must know already, my son Khalid is autistic, and Alhamdulillah, with treatment we've seen really amazing progress. He has started to talk- he has five or six words in his vocabulary now and we are overjoyed. Alhamdulillah, we've been able to pay for this therapy he needs, but there are eight families here who can't afford to have their children treated. The Red Crescent of the UAE and the Child Early Intervention Medical Center are hosting a walk to raise funds for them. I am posting the invite here, and would be grateful if people could attend or spread the word to anyone and everyone in the UAE. The walk is at Zaabeel Park, at 5pm, Thursday the 30th of April. There will be fun activities for children and the chance to meet and learn from people whose lives are affected by Autism. JazakAllahuKheiran!  Labels: Autism
Wow.
Because this is the Best. Email. Ever. Received just a few minutes ago. From my beloved. God Bless. ---- Dear Beloved, I apologize if the contents in this mail are contrary to your moral ethics which I feel may be of great disturbance to your personal life, but I feel quite safe dealing with you. Though this medium (Internet) has been greatly abused, I choose to reach you through it because it remains the fastest, surest and most secured medium of communication. However, this correspondence is purely private, and it should be treated as such. I am contacting you based on trust and confidentiality. I have reposed higher confidence in your ability to handle this matter perfectly for my sake. I am serious minded person. I am Mrs. Judith Shumejda, I am 51 years old, a widow to late Mr.John Shumejda who was the President of agricultural equipment giant AGCO Corp, who perished on the 4th of January 2002 in a plane crash in Birmingham. After going through some files of my late husband, I discovered a Deposit Certificate of (£15Million) (Fifteen Million Pounds) with a Bank in London. But due my sickness, I have not been able to claim this fund from the Bank, as I have been in the hospital in Liverpool and my sickness continue getting worst. I am suffering from a protracted cancer of the lungs which has affected my brain. From all indication my condition is really deteriorating, and my doctors have courageously advised me that I may not live beyond the next Six months to eight months, this is because the cancer stage has reached a critical stage. Please View the Website below: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/1742404.stm http://edition.cnn.com/2002/WORLD/europe/01/04/england.plane/ Please in your response, send me the following information to enable me validate you as the legal beneficiary of this funds: 1) Your full names: 2) Mobile phone number/home phone number/office phone number: 3) Age: 4) Address and Marital status: 5) Company's name & address: 6) Precent Country: 7) Name of your next of kin: These whole information is what I need from you so that I can present a Letter of Authorisation to the Bank where the money is deposited to contact you as the beneficiary for this funds transfer. Send your urgent response to (helpmrsJudithshumejda@gmail.com) Your assistant will be highly appreciated. Thanks and God bless. Mrs. Judith Shumejda
Hat? Okay!
 I never thought I'd be so happy to report that my son will just NOT stop babbling. Although his vocabulary has yet to cross the ten-word mark, he has begun to mimic sounds and start conversations with people other than me- the most amusing of which is generally Iman. Khalid will grin excitedly at her, and say 'Okay?' and Iman will beam and reply 'Hat!' Of course, it's much more than just 'hat,' to Iman, it's a prolonged, ecstatic exclamation of haaaaAAAAAAt! in a high-pitched squeak bordering on baby giddiness. Yes, Iman says hat, and she says it loud, and she says it clear, and it is as meaningful to her as 'Okay' is to Khalid. They had a three-way conversation yesterday with the Imam of the masjid during Isha prayer. It went like this. Imam: (over loud speaker) Allahu Akbar
Khalid: Okay?
Iman: Haaaaaaaat!
Imam: Sami'Allahu liman Hamida
Khalid: Okay!
Iman: haaaaAAAAAAAAAAT!
Imam: Allu Akbar
Iman: HAAAAAAT! HAAAAAAAAAAAAT!
Khalid: Okay! Iman: haaaaaAAAAAAAAT! Of course, right after the jamaat finished, someone came over and banged angrily onto the divider between the men's and women's sections, and frankly speaking, I was seriously offended. Yeah, my kids were making noise, but children make noise in the masjid all the time. I was still praying though, and so my rugrats continued to fill the large, echoing dome of the masjid with hats and okays until the Imam came and knocked on the door (gently) of the women's section and asked Ruth (who opened the door) to please bring the children outside. When I finished praying I walked out and outside the women's side entrance, saw HF talking to two men, presumably the Imam and one other local. Khalid, upon seeing HF, ran and flung himself into his arms and unleashed a series of happy Okays! According to HF, as soon as Khalid did this, both the men changed their stances from stern to understanding. It's easier to be mad about someone's bratty kids when 1. you can't see them and 2. they're not autistic. Ruth and the kids & I waited in the car while HF talked with the Imam & Co for about ten minutes. Alhamdulillah, this is one wonderful thing about HF, if a situation gets tense, he doesn't get mad, he gets charming. I told this to Ruth, and she laughed. "You'll see," I said, "By the time he finishes talking to them he'll have made some new friends." And of course, he had. After an explanation of autism and Khalid's understanding (or the lack thereof) the Imam invited him over for tea repeatedly and was disappointed when HF politely deferred. The second man then plied HF for his life story and then asked him to come over and fix his computer. Numbers were exchanged. We went back home.
Ruth took the kids in and threw them into their respective tubs, and then I had a good cry about things with HF outside. True, the matter isn't black and white- kids need to be taught how to behave in a place of worship, adults need to manage their problems more tactfully than by banging on the walls of the woman's section- but it all boiled down to this- I'm not allowed to complain about having an autistic child, so neither is anyone else.
I went to the salon last week for a quick trim, and Khalid, misunderstanding the situation and thinking it was his head on the chopping block, went into red-alert tantrum mode and ended up crammed under a chair while kicking the wall and screaming. Calming him down failed, and so I told the woman to just finish as soon as possible so I could pay and take Khalid home.
The sweet receptionist tried (to no avail) to distract Khalid- to offer him sweets, to engage him while he was busy screaming. This lasted around ten minutes. The other ladies stared disapprovingly at me while Khalid raged and the hairdresser snipped. When it was done and I had paid, I collected Khalid from his well-kicked corner, and said to one of the other hairdressers, "Sorry about the noise, he thought he was going to have his hair cut, and he doesn't understand."
They stared blankly and I told them he was autistic. They didn't know what that meant, I told them he was mentally around 1 years old and had little idea what was going on. Ooooooh....now they got it, he had some problem with his brain? They asked polite nervous questions and the air changed from frigid to embarrassed.
I don't know whether there's a crash course somewhere for being a 'special needs mom,' but I think I'm doing as well I can with the amount of training I got. :p I adore Khalid, he is the most beautiful, crazy, energetic, loving little man, and that other people don't understand him is not his fault. Nor is it theirs, but I'm not about to start apologizing for him being the way he is. Allah allows everything to happen for a reason, and even if it's just to teach everyone around him a little more patience, that's a good enough reason for me.
By Zeba, the end.
Labels: Autism, BebeFiles, HusbandFiles
Because Iman deserves a post too, gosh darnit!
 Iman is 30% pouffy hair and 70% attitude. At 11 months, MashaAllah, she takes herself on high-speed crawling tours of the house, following me, Ruth, or the vacuum cleaner. She also ventures out on her own for daring expeditions under the dining table, behind the curtains, and occasionally into a tangle of computer wires where she will become stuck and then cry to be rescued. Iman is an optimist. She will crawl over to Khalid and try to take what he's playing with. Then she'll get pushed over, not maliciously, but in a matter-of-fact sort of "You, down." from Khalid, who isn't hitting her, but moving her out of his way. The point is though, she tries, and repeatedly tries, and above all, believes that one day she will win the car/block/bottle/sock/cracker that her bigger, stronger, faster brother exercises eminent domain over. Iman is willful and stubborn and aggressive in a way that is unbecoming for a little girl the size of a house cat. As Khalid was big, Iman is small, and her last visit to the pediatrician reported that she is underweight, but healthy, active, and a little on the shrimpy side for a big-haired diva. Iman is generous, and will share whatever she is licking/sucking/gnawing on with a person half-way across the room by holding it at arm's length and grinning happily at the person. The person is then expected to smile, close their eyes and say 'num num num num!' while air-munching the proffered cracker/ball/key chain. Iman is quick. Not just on her little hands and knees, but on the uptake. She sings along with 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,' signs for Hat, Dog, Clap, and Duck, and even says Ruth. Yes, she says Ruth. Not Momma, but Ruth, and while it cut my heart to pieces to hear that, I can't beat myself up too badly- Ruth takes care of Iman while I take Khalid to therapy, and she does a wonderful job playing with, singing to, caring for, and feeding Iman while Khalid and I are out from when we leave in the morning until we get home late in the afternoon, or evening if I stop to buy groceries or run errands. Ruth is a godsend, and leaving Iman in her care for most of the day is necessary in order to get Khalid the help he needs. Iman is growing. way. too. fast. It seems like yesterday she was born and today she's moving rapidly from baby-ness to toddler-hood. She's started to pull herself up to standing position using the legs of the dining chairs, and soon she'll be cruising around the furniture, she is- Up! Gtg!
HE SPEAKS!
 Khalid's favorite word in the entire world: OKAY! This is how it's used. Locate a random item. Find your mother. Hand it to her. Grin expectantly. Mom sez Thank You! and Khalid sez OKAY! and wanders off to find another item. (Last week I ended up with a pile of shoes in my arms, six or seven pairs deep, each one of which was delivered to me, individually, with an expectant smile and Khalid's squeaky little Okay!) Khalid has started to copy words pretty consistently in therapy- like Up, and On, and Cup, but the only word he's using of his own volition (and within his own personal context) is Okay! Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah. Also, there's another use for the word 'Okay!' Khalid and I, during our hour-long drive to therapy in the morning, have conversations that go like this: Khalid (watching me expectantly from his car seat): Ah, ah, Okay! Me: Okay! (Khalid beams and wait a few seconds while basking in the glow of successful conversation. Then he looks to me again and says...) Khalid: Ah, ah- Okay? Me: Okay! And we continue like this, through Abu Dhabi territory, past Jebel Ali, cruising into Dubai, zipping through our morning commute and sharing deep and meaningful and beautiful words like Okay. Best. Word. In. The. World. Okay! Labels: Autism, BebeFiles
Click here to sign the petition for Gaza, Please!
The Husbandfiles: A compilation of non-traditional ways of responding to 'I Love You."
 I love you. I know.
I love you! Yeah, me too!
I love you. Ok.
I love you so much... And I love you a little more than that.
I love you more than chocolate cake Are you sure? Because last I checked, chocolate cake loves me alot... Labels: HusbandFiles
What, us nocturnal again?
Iman is taking a tour of the living room right now. By herself. Her commando-crawl skills have really picked up in the last few days, and despite being sick and having an ear infection, she still enjoys a good reconnaissance mission over to the corner of the sofa or the edge of the carpet so she can stare intently at its patterns. At the moment, she's crinkling a grocery list that she discovered under the coffee table. It's been a pediatric quarantine-athon here at home, Khalid had a week of high fever followed by a cough, and as soon as he go better, Iman started down the same viral road. She's just getting over her week of high fever, and is on antibiotics for an ear infection as well. Me, I woke up two days ago sounding like a chain-smoking truck driver, which is typical for me when I get a cold. Now it's my turn to be sick, and in addition to sounding like a truck driver, I also feel like I've been beaten by a truck driver. It's 1:30 am right now, and Iman wakes up when she can't breathe properly (which has been every night for the last week) out of her nose. She's running out of steam now, and I hope we can be in bed within another twenty minutes InshaAllah. Oh, good news! I almost forgot to blog this! *smacks forehead with keyboard* Four days ago, Khalid made the sign for hat! He patted his head, put the hat on it, and then made the sign again! That's the first sign or form of communication he's ever made with us, apart from saying 'socks' once, and I was nearly doing cartwheels! I am so excited, and so looking forward to being able to communicate with him! Please make dua that this progress continues. There have been so many changes in his behavior since we started therapy, and it's only been three weeks! InshaAllah, InshaAllah, InshaAllah! Alhamdulillah! Oh, Iman's starting to cry and pull her ears, so it's time for me rescue her and take her to bed. Gtg! Labels: BebeFiles
The Art of Khalid BinWaleed- The Early Masterpieces
 As seen in the Le Gallerie de'home, Blue Square (left) and Scribble Star (right) Both pieces are said to represent the artist's passion for geometry. Labels: Autism, BebeFiles
This must be what it's like when your kid graduates from med school
My little boy, my handsome little son, is painting. A blue square. With washable paints, with slow, deliberate jabs at the paper, and his little tongue poking out in concentration. I. Am. So. Proud. *gets misty eyed* Khalid's working with one of his therapists right now. We began his ABA two weeks ago, and we now drive into Dubai four days a week for Khalid to learn things like matching colors, and stacking shapes, and how to talk (InshaAllah, one day) and also, how to paint a blue square. :) Iman is home with Ruth, her BFF as well as our full-time Khalid-chaser. Ok, technically, she's a nurse, but she lives with us and helps me with the kids and the house and takes care of Iman while I take Khalid to therapy and keeps me company as well and compliments my cooking. I am reluctant to call Ruth the 'help' or the maid or the nanny, because there's a negative stigma attached with 1. Being the 'help' or 2. Hiring help. But that's another post for another day InshaAllah. Right now, I'm just going to sit here and beam. *beam* Labels: Autism
16 Things You Never Wanted to Know, but too bad. So There.
1. I have a hard time filling out these ‘Random Things About Me’ lists. Even now I’m very self conscious about what I type here. Half of the time I worry about being shamelessly self-aggrandizing, the other half I worry that being normal may be seen as a deliberate attempt to be ‘lookit me, I’m so righteously humble.’ Apparently, 2. I over analyze. Or perhaps, I’m guilty of exposing myself by the lens through which I fear being seen. 3. I’m worried about being seen as arrogant or fake. One then wonders, is that because I am either 4. Secretly very arrogant or 5. Secretly very fake? I hope that I am neither, but I recognize that my personality harbors elements of both. Compare this to being told that: 6. I channel pre-school teacher. Someone I love told me that once, and I was hurt by that. I wasn’t sure why, I just knew that was an incorrect analysis of what I was, and realizing the incongruence between my inside (Abez Soup) and my outside (Preschool Teacher?) made me feel incredibly artificial. 7. I hate pretending. 8. I’m wondering where I’m going with this, and whether I’m exposing way too much of myself instead of just filling out sixteen silly things like 9. I once met Morgan Freeman and 10. I own silver sneakers. Pretending is a kid in camo pants. Being is a soldier in camo. My preschool teacher exterior is not the candy coating, it’s the work of years of nafs-beating, lip-biting, hard-earned restraint. 11. I am not pretending to be nicer than I am, I am being nicer than I want to be, given that I am 12. Impatient 13. Self-Righteous and 14. Naturally inclined to vengeance. My façade is not to keep the light of prying eyes out, it’s to keep the darkness restrained within. I think I’ve lost direction on this. Also, this may be way more than anyone has ever wanted to know about me. (So, did I tell you about my sneakers yet?) I think this meme and the preschool teacher comment just happen to come at the same time, and when I sat down to fill out that one silly list, I came up with this silly one instead. What’s the moral of this story? You might not want to dismiss “nice people” you meet as being one-dimensionally Good, any more than you should be absolutely certain that patch of leaves isn’t a commando. 15. I talk too much. 16. I rearrange the furniture every time HF goes on a bidness trip. Where’s your sofa now, HA!
Time again, for another 2 am post.
HF is en route to Australia for a bidness trip, and we, The Circus, are left to our own devices for this week. Apparently our devices involve rolling around the floor sucking on building blocks. Well, those are Iman's devices anyway. She's the reason I'm up cooking instead of down snoring- I woke up at 12:46 to giggling and pulling of the strings on my hoodie, which, in addition to fist-sucking and foot-waving, is Iman's way of letting me know she's fully charged and ready to party. So here we are, it's a party. (Wave your feet in the air like you just don't care?)Khalid began ABA therapy last week at the autism center in Dubai, Alhamdulillah, and it's amazing to see him already picking up the things he's refusing to learn there. :p Khalid will resist instructions to clap his hands until we've used up every tissue in the box and he's blue in the face from crying, but he will go home at the end of the day and furtively clap his hands in a corner. The therapists have told us that they can see he is intelligent, but he has compliance issues. In other words, he will refuse to do something solely because you asked him to. That makes sense, after all, the motto Khalid seems to live by is 'You and What Army?' Alhamdulillah, he has made progress though, because he's starting to realize that no matter how hard he fights, he won't be released from that crazy place where he's made to stack blocks against his will. Poor baby. Iman is learning things too. Just this week, she's started a precurser to crawling- the commando-wiggle. I'm sure it has a real name, it's that thing you do under barb-wire on your elbows while pinned down by enemy fire. Whatever it's called, she used it just now to wiggle under the desk and start pulling my pant leg. Two days ago, she used it to get to my feet and diligently suck my toe, thereby entering the record books for 'Most Adorable Distraction During Prayer By A Baby Ever.' Well, Iman is rubbing her eyes and wriggling unhappily, so I think maybe the party is over. Let me whisk her off to bed. Khalid and I have to hit the road at 9:30 am to get to his therapy on time. Peace & Tarka Grease! -The Circus
Observations for a Friday.
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Abez Is... 
