(I forgot how much I love Photoshop)

I’m conducting another workshop this weekend, and putting together my notes is hard for reasons entirely emotional.  So now I’m done.  I’m closing the computer down even if my notes aren’t ready, because I am feeling so down and so sad from all the ‘informative’ reading I’ve just done that I’m just going to pray and crawl in to bed.

The End.

At what point did we, as human beans, become so desensitized to the idea of what is, to be blunt- an indescribable horror that Allah, in His Mercy, has not allowed to exist in real life? Imagine a mother devouring her screaming baby.  Really.  Let your stomach twist itself into a revolted little knot over that one.  Compare that to the plush and cuddly om-nom of one human being munching another and think about it- it’s not funny.  It’s not entertaining.  It’s a further desensitization of people to violence which, in turn, spurns further violence.

Human life loses its value because zombification gives us carte blanche to kill, main, decapitate, run over, and maul men women children old people and pets in a variety of exciting and entertaining venues.   And our kids play games to pass the time using other humans for target practice while we head off to zombie camp for the weekend so we can get our jollies from massacring actors with grape-jelly in their mouths.

I wonder what it is that people find attractive about the whole ‘end of the world and everyone’s dead but us’ scenario- is it the fantasy that you’re only alive because you’re such a badass? Or the human craving to find a)belonging and b) purpose that is forced into realization that you’re the only five single attractive grownups with unlimited ammo left in the city, and you and your adorable clever dog need to band together to ride into the sunset over a mountain of zombie corpses?

Right....nothing at all...

I have wasted hundred of hours- I’m not joking, hundreds- battling zombies in one form or the other courtesy of the Resident Evil series way back in the highschool day, but even then I saw no allure in immersing myself in any more zombitude than I had to.  Zombies were something you ran away from and avoided on pain of death (or worse-waste of ammo!)  I know I’ve blogged about zombies before- sometimes I wonder whether too many hours of zombie gaming in the dark basement of my parents’ house did not give me a touch of PSTD- certain sounds, specific creaks, the caw of a raven or the click of an ominous-sounding doorknob used to give me flashbacks to the dark, close quarters of the Raccoon City police station where I was alone, out of ammo, and standing in front of that horrible hallway where the zombies would reach in from the windows and claw at you.

The self-inflicted brain damage persists even to this day, to the extent that I wasn’t able to watch King of Thorns- ye typical ‘confused survivors trappy in gory research facility’ anime- without having nightmares and developing honest to goodness fear of the dark for a good week afterwards.  I wasn’t scared of the dark the same way that four year olds are- it was worse, because a four year old can’t (or shouldn’t be able to) imagine what I can in the shadows of my house.  Not even I would be able to imagine in the shadows what I find myself imagining- and I am not imagining as much as I am remembering the time that the skeleton-faced dog thing stepped out from behind that angry but helpful police officer and picked him up by the head and squeezed it until his skull popped.

Stop me if you’re feeling sick.  I am already.

I don’t think zombies are cute or funny or entertaining any more than cannibalism.  God forbid someone come out with a plush toy for that next… Auzubillah.

-End of Rant Here-

Me: Yes, I do, it’s a convertible.

Iman: It has two eyes, and a mouth! It’s like a happy face! It’s like a toy! I like it!

The dog ate my blog?

-SPLAT-

Yep, that one looks credible.  Next!

I was scaling a mountain of work when I fell into the crevasse of mommy-related responsibilities and my backpack of bloggingness fell into the bottomless abyss of nonpriority?

Ooh, that was dramatic.  Next!

I haven’t had a housekeeper/nanny for the last month.

Hmmm, that one doesn’t actually sound very credible.  The thing is though- and I know that it’s hard to believe- this is the closest thing I have to a real reason.  It sounds like such a Diva-esque complaint- a great majority of womankind copes without housekeepers- but I have three kids- one with autism, one with a Napoleon complex, and one with only three teeth and cruising- related deathwish.  I have ten employees, a CSR proposal underway, page 31 in Iman’s math book to work her through, and an intake for new parents this Saturday.  But that sounds like whining, so let’s go back to my other excuse.

You should have seen the size of its teeth.  I was running, but then it caught up with me, and I was all like- “Oh no dog, don’t eat my blog!” but the dog was all like “Woof woof. Om nom nom.” And then HF jumped in with his cape and tie blowing dramatically in a gust of hero-related breeze, but then he remembered that he’s weirded out by dogs, so he leapt off-camera and cleaned the house and put the kids to sleep instead.  And that’s been amazing and surprising and lovely and the catalyst for falling in love with him all over again, but it hasn’t been enough to save the blog.

Sorry blog.

But enough with excuses.  I could go on making… err… recounting completely true and valid excuses until the cows came home, but then I would have to stop typing to go milk them because cows don’t milk themselves any more than Musfira changes her own diapers.

The funny thing about being stretched thin is that you become easier to tear- more fragile than usual.  I’m cheerful and productive and maybe only half-frazzled to the point of insanity (see, only half!) but this video made me cry.  And then this video made me laugh out loud with with joy. Wait until they show planets crashing in to each other- that was perfect, amazing- and just mind blowing.  SubhanAllah!

I think these two videos kind of form the bookends of my life right now: Islam and autism.  Being mom fits somewhere in the middle and is an extension of both sides.  You know, like a sort of… spectrum? *rimshot*  I feel rubbed raw on both ends- my own son is doing well by the Grace and Kindness and Greatness of God, but then every new parent I meet renews a sense of desperation, urgency, panic, and fear for the future of a child and I don’t think I ever get very far from the despair of a new diagnosis.  On the other side, I am so, so, so, so, overwhelmingly grateful to be Muslim, to have the small amount of faith I can hold in my heart, and to be able to put the burden of autism and fear down on the floor and whisper Subhana Rabbi Al-Aa’la- Glory to my Lord, Most High.  Allah created autism, He created despair so we could have hope, and darkness so that light could be apparent.  If there is imbalance in this life, it is only allowed to exist for us to learn, and then it will be re-balanced as soon as we die.  I’d happily live without a thumb if I knew I would get both of them back plus a cosmos of eternal gold stars for it in paradise.

I haven’t been feeling very well lately, and being sick while being stressed, over-worked, and overwhelmed has been an additional challenge, but as strange as this is- I’m liking it.  I’m loving it.  I think I may be losing my mind, but there is a sweetness and a closeness in prayer that I have never been able to find or taste except when I am on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  Like how water tastes like life itself- only when you’re dying.

Take a mayonnaise jar. Add oil.  Add water.  Add autism, Islam, Iron, motherhood, diapers, school lunches, and human responsibilities and shake the living daylights out of it. You’ll get a jar of disoriented salad dressing- that label will say:  Abez.

Tadaa!

That’s my update and I’m sticking to it.

By Abez, The End.

Iman comes inside the house crying, having just fallen down.  I pick her up and calm her down and try to figure out what happened.

Me: Iman, what happened?

Iman: I was climbing the stairs, like a cat-

Me: And then what happened?

Iman: And then I fell, like an ant!

Me: Like an ant?

Iman: Yeah, like when momma hits it wish a shoe- BAM!

Khalid: Momma, are you hiding?

Me: No, I’m just making dua.

(He smiles at me)

Me: Hey Khalid, I love you.

Khalid: I know.

(I kiss Khalid’s head)

Khalid: Oh, you’re being good!

Me: Thank you.

MashaAllah, SubhanAllah.  Alhamdulillah.

Also, in the last month alone, she’s been to Manila, Doha, and Ras Al Khaimah.  Her stroller should be getting frequent flier miles or something.

SubhanAllah!

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