In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight

Bebeface is sleeping, shh! type quietly!

My lil Brother emailed me about a month ago, and since he’s not the communicative type, it was one of only a handful of emails he’s sent me in the last six months. I would love to reply, but so far I haven’t been able to. I’ve sat down several times and stared blankly at a gmail draft. The delay isn’t Khalid’s fault, it’s actually my Brother’s. He had to go and ask me a hard question- he had to ask me what my goals were.

I’m sure I used to have goals. I vaguely remember wanting to finish a book of poetry by the age of 25. I’ve moved it up to 30, and am hoping that the next three years are extra-inspirational.

I wanted to weigh 125 pounds once upon a time. Har. Dee. Har. My mother’s family is primarily composed of hard working, hard farming people of big bones and German descent, so when we say we’s big-boneded, we mean it. We’s big boneded. I’ve moved my goals from numerical weight to physical fitness instead, but even those have slipped so far that if I manage to work out three times a week I’m going to buy myself a trophy.

I wanted to learn Arabic, but I find that here, living in the Middle East, I can’t afford classes. Once upon a time in Pakiland, we could afford Arabic lessons from a nice teacher who came to the house five times a week to suffer through grammar with Owlie and I. Things in the UAE are much more expensive than they are in Pakistan, especially education, so the idea of getting a private tutor is no longer feasible, and the possibility of attending classes with Bebeface is impractical. (Alif, Ba, Bababababbbbbbbpppprttt Waaaannnh!)

I do have some goals left, but they’ve mellowed out lately, are instead of being clearly-defined targets set to be achieved within a given time frame, they’re more like ‘things I wanna do, InshaAllah.’ I want to pray with concentration, and this is an ongoing battle. I’ll probably be fighting it for the rest of my life, but it’s one worth fighting, so bring it on, baybee.

I want to read the Tafsir of Ibn Kathir, InshaAllah. HF bought me the entire set for Eid (yay! I *heart* HF!) and I started, Alhamdulillah, and I will continue, InshaAllah.

I want to get back to my pre-baby weight, InshaAllah, and be able to do 20 push-ups. Lately I’ve started being more of a Captain and less of a wicked monkey, so I’ve lost another two pounds and the morale boost feels fantastic.

Sadly, above all things- I want to sleep at night. Bebeface is, MashaAllah, exceptional in many ways, not excluding his exceptionally bad sleeping habits. By his age, most children have been sleeping through the night for a few months already. He’s ten months old, MashaAllah, but if he wakes up four times in the night I consider it a Very Good Night. Other not-so-good nights involve waking up every forty minutes to rock Khalid back to sleep, slump miserably back into bed, and then get up in another forty minutes to do it again, my back aching, my eyes burning, my head spinning from sleep deprivation and the in-again, out-again, up and down of popping in and out of bed all night long without anything more restful than a series of cat naps. I just want to sleep. It feels like months since I’ve dreamed.

So yeah, I do have goals, it’s just that I don’t think they’re the sort my Lil Brother was asking about.

Once, I wanted to be a doctor.

Now, I just want to be myself again.


Abez is a 50% white, 50% Pakistani, and 100% Muslim. She is also chronically ill and terminally awesome. She is the ever-lovin Momma of: - Khalid, a special little boy with autism - Iman, a special little girl with especially big hair -Musfira, an especially devious baby Spoiler, Abez is also Zeba Khan on

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