Last night HF popped his head into the kitchen with a box of mithai in his hand. ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘Did you say to put the mithai in the fridge?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, soaping up another glass.

‘Good, because that makes more sense than putting my ties into the fridge.’

HF was relieved. I was happy for him.

SubhanAllah, things these days are good. Well, things these days specifically are good, though you never know how those other days will be, and whether you’ll contemplate flinging boxes over the side of the balcony as compared to taping them shut and sending them to the new place. We’re in the process of moving, InshaAllah. The exact move date is uncertain, but the non-essential items of the house are slowly but surely being sorted, arranged, and taped shut. As of yet, none of them have been flung over the balcony.

Did I mention that it’s 6:20 am?

Bebeface is getting a head start on religion by waking up for Fajr at the age of 5 months. Alhamdulillah, he’s grown a lot since I last blogged about his age specifically. (3 months) He’s learning how to sit up, he plays with his fingers and has learned how to smile with two from one hand and three from another crammed excitedly in his mouth. Up until one sentence ago, he had been sitting in his stroller and chewing his Yellow Tiger and contemplating his socked feet. As of this sentence, he is in my lap, holding firmly to the edge of the computer table and staring at the monitor. (Psst, Momma there’s a typo in p2, l5.)

We’ve been up since 5:30, and having prayed, we’ve also had Weetabix, a shower, and a diaper change. Right now we’re sucking our fingers and rubbing our face sleepily into Momma’s t-shirt. Bebeface does wake up several times a night, but usually not for longer than the time it takes to nurse and fall back asleep. He’ll be running out of steam soon, and then we can go back to bed InshaAllah.

*rubs eyes sleepily onto own shirt*

AssalamuAlaikum alls of ya’ll

JazakAllahu Kheiran for all the duas and well-wishes and the ‘what the heck happened?’s I’ve gotten. So here’s what happened. Basically, as we were passing through an intersection on a yellow light, a car coming from our right slammed into us from the side, knocking us into the turn lane on oncoming traffic and into the front end of a truck. It looked like this:

The other car, a BMW, had been waiting for the light to change, but for whatever reason, decided to accelerate before it turned green. It shot out of the red light fast enough to knock us askew, and as the car spun the rear-end of our vehicle hit the bmw again, knocking the bumper off. Then we crashed into the front of the truck. The car is quite simply totalled. It took three consecutive impacts, the first from the bmw on the side, another from the bmw at the back, and the third from driving head-on into a truck.

SubhanAllah for good people, the man who had been in the car to the left of the bmw had also been waiting for the light to change, and he testified to the police that he had been waiting at the same signal and saw the bmw accelerate when the light was still red. He’s also the man who brought Bebe’s car seat and stroller to me, first to the shop, and then again to the hospital. We were all driven away by police/ambulance reapectively, so he packed our stuff into his car and followed us there after talking to the police.

And imagine my surprise when Knicq appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. I was waiting for my turn in x-ray when he showed up, even before HF did, bringing his usual supply of cheer and comfort. JazakAllah Knicq. You are a good bhai.

And my lovely HF called when he was enroute, and when I answered the phone he said, “You know, Abez, if you want me to spend more time with you there are better ways of letting me know.” And then he bought me chocolate and took me for an adventurous spin in the wheel chair, and we went zipping through the halls of the hospital with Khalid riding asleep in my lap.

It’s been two or three days I think, but I have yet to let myself even think of what might have happened. I am very well aware that any one of us could have died should Allah have decided so, but I refuse to imagine anything having happened to Khalid. Even writing this right now is difficult- my throat gets tight and my eyes fill and I get this horrified, panicky feeling. I can’t imagine my life without Bebeface. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose him. I don’t want ever to be lost to him, either. Chalk it up to Momma hormones, but to think of my baby crying and me not being able to be there for him- to think of my child growing up without his mother-

Alhamdulillah.

May Allah bless and reward and shower with mercy and kindness everyone who brought nercy and comfort and kindness to us. Allah, please give us life so long as life is good for us and death when death is good for us, and reunite us with those we love in the hereafter. Ameen

A beautiful thing happened two days ago. After the bounce and the jolt and the crash- after the smell of the hot asphalt and the exhaust cleared, I took Khalid from his car seat and got out of the car. To get out of the car – that was a beautiful thing.

We walked through stopped traffic to a shop on the other side of the road, where I took Khalid’s clothes off and looked for injuries, and I could see, from where I sat, the back bumper of the car lying in the road and the front end of the car crumpled and pushed into the nose of an 18 wheel truck, but I could see both of my husband’s parents had gotten out and were standing near it. To still be standing – that was a beautiful thing.

And the men from the street brought in Khalid’s car seat, and brought his stroller, and brought water and tried to comfort and soothe Khalid. Khalid’s little face was flushed pink from the heat and the fear and the pain, but the men held him and kissed him and told him he was ok, and that too was a beautiful thing.

And my right knee was bloody, and my right calf was cut, and my right ankle was swollen, and my left leg was rapidly turning purple, and my right eye was swollen, and I had hit my head, but the x-rays said that nothing was broken, and that was a beautiful thing.

And Khalid was scared and in pain, and he spent 45 minutes screaming and crying until he passed out from the effort. Even in his sleep, he shuddered and whimpered, but after two hours he woke up smiling and that, Alhamdulillah, SubhanAllah, AllahuAkbar, was the most beautiful thing of all.

Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah.

Always wear your seat belt.

Always keep your baby in a car seat.

Life is a beautiful thing.

I should have known what was coming when I saw how close the box of q-tips was to the edge. I should have moved them when I placed Khalid on the bed to change his diaper. I should have known that a kid who has mastered spitting up not on my shirt, but in my shirt, would be able to take advantage of the q-tips’ precarious position.

Bebe’s Plan for Revenge for Putting Bebe to sleep last night at the wee hour of 11.

Step 1: Pre-place box of 200 q-tips on the edge of bed.

Step 2: Soil diaper.

Step 3: Allow self to be placed on bed and freed of diaper, thus exposing lethal weaponry.

Step 4: Kick Q-tips off of bed, scattering them precisely within range of lethal weaponry.

Step 5: Allow mother to stoop to pick up q-tips, foolishly leaving lethal weaponry exposed.

Step 6: Ready.

Step 7: Aim.

Step 8: FIRE!

Step 9: Beam joyously as you soak momma’s back in a fresh, steady stream of revenge.

Second Test post, here we go…