So it’s been a little over two month’s since I’ve updated, which may be the longest I’ve ever gone in the history of this blog. Ever. I have an excuse. Well, I have a whole bunch of excuses, so let’s throw some at the wall and see if any of them stick.
The dog ate my blog?
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.
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.
That’s my update and I’m sticking to it.
By Abez, The End.