Once upon a time…

When dinosaurs roamed the earth, I wrote on this blog often. This blog had many purposes, one of which was to create something for my kids to read later.

Well, it’s later now.

I know this because over dinner last week, one of my kids said, “Momma, you wrote on your blog that baba asked for a milkshake. But he said he couldn’t do that because then the yard would be full of boys.”

Mere feet away in the kitchen, Husband stops in his tracks, finds my panicked expression, and fails to suppress the kind of grin that cheshire cat would have upon eating a particularly hilarious mouse.

“What does that mean momma?”

“Yes Momma,” he asks with extremely unconvincing mock-innocence. “What does that mean? Do explain.”

I laugh out loud. I can’t keep it to myself. When I’ve eventually caught my breath, I ask the kids to sit down and proceed to have one of those talks that – as a parent – no one could have predicted you would have. I had to explain why my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and they all say it’s better than yours. And how did I do that? Honestly.

Long ago when dinosaurs roamed the earth, there was a popular but terribly inappropriate song (THAT NEITHER YOUR BABA NOR I LISTENED TO) that was basically a woman singing about how when she dances and shakes her body (specifically her chest?) men like to stare at her and there’s so many they fill the yard.

My kids looked at me blankly. A few seconds of silence passed.

I shrug.

They shrug. I’m sure they questioned my life choices. At that moment I did too, but then life went on. And while this awkward little vignette might never register a blip in the timeline of our family’s history, it did mark a personal milestone for me. I always wanted to be the kind of parent who could teach their children about things. That means – obviously enough – being able to talk about things, even when they’re weird. So my children know where babies come from. They know what sex is. They know what porn is and why porn is bad and Alhamdulillah, they are comfortable enough to ask me things about things. And that made me happy.

If you excuse me, I’m going to make a milkshake. Don’t worry, the gate outside is locked.

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Abez

Abez is a 50% white, 50% Pakistani, Muslim hijabi Momma of Khalid, a special little boy with autism, and Iman, a special little girl with specially big hair.

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