Author: Abez

  • Ramadan: Day One!

    AssalamuAlaikum All and Ye Few Sundry!

    So political moonsighting differences aside, today was Day One of Ramadan here in the UAE, and for me, it was my first fast in two years. (Fasting is only mandatory for people healthy enough to do it, which sort of excludes pregnant peeples if there is fear of harm to mother or child.)

    So how did it go? Well, first I was up all night working. That was Mistake Number 1. Then I had to drop HF off at work by 9:30 so I could keep the car to complete some time-senstive bank stuff, and that was Tribulation Number 2. And then when I got home at 11:30 am, Iman and Khalid were still themselves, and that was So It Goes Number 3, which meant my nap was segmented by various periods of waking/baby-feeding/kid-tending.

    Then, at 3:00, I woke up and did some cooking, fed Iman again, and then set off to pick HF up from work by 4:30.

    It was a busy day. I nearly fell asleep at the wheel numerous times. I thank God for keeping me alive and reasonably in between the dotted lines on the Abu Dhabi/Dubai highway. I thank Saniya for keeping me awake on the phone. Alhamdulillah, it was a great day, because despite having tiny Sehri, little sleep, and much to do, it felt wonderful to be fasting again- thirsty and hungry and light and eager to regain control over my stomach and my willpower and my self-discipline.

    That was Day One, Alhamdulillah,

  • Can’t stop progress!

    Yesterday Iman discovered her right foot.

    Today she discovered she could chew it.

    Ah, they grow up so fast…

  • If HF asks, tell him I was typing in my sleep…

    If HF asks, tell him I was typing in my sleep…

    HF is asleep, Khalid is asleep, Iman is asleep- why then am I awake? Because it’s hard to eat chocolate cereal in your dreams, that’s why.

    So my bowl of chocolate cereal and I are here to share our continuing adventures in dental destiny. On Wednesday, I dutifully submitted to the dentist- a nice man who does horrible things to my mouth, and let him fight it out with my jaw for ownership of my last two wisdom teeth. It wasn’t a fair fight. He had pliers and some sort of ice-pick. My teeth were unarmed. After about twenty minutes of wrangling, the teeth were out and my unhappy gums were packed with cotton.

    That would have ended a painful but mundane day in dental history, were it not for the evil forces of TMJ. TMJ is a long a complicated term that, for me, means that in addition to popping and clicking at embarrassing times, my jaw is also vulnerable to being dislocated and locked open anytime I visit a dentist. So thanks to TMJ, I left the dentist with a misaligned mouth, but thanks to the anethesia, I had no idea until 11pm that night when I realized I couldn’t close my teeth.

    I called the dentist and he offered a simple solution-

    Is your husband home?

    Yes.

    Tell him to place his thumbs on your molars and push your jaw open and down, when it clicks, push it back into place.

    -blink blink-

    Try that and let me know if it works. I’ll be waiting for your call.

    I headed for the bedroom, where HF was sitting in the rocking chair reading while Khalid, presumably falling asleep, was waving his feet from under a pile of pillows.

    (Hey, have you ever wanted to dislocate my jaw? Now’s your chance!)

    HF blinked a few times when I told him the plan. He grinned nervously and said he’d give it a shot. We tried it a few times- HF with both thumbs in my mouth, trying to force my jaw open without hurting me and overall, succeeding in little more than causing my tongue to get dry.

    (Don’t worry, the worst you can do is dislocate my jaw, and that’s what we’re trying to do!)

    It didn’t work. HF is too nice, too gentle, and maybe even too squeamish. By then it was 11:30. I called the dentist back and arrangements were made to meet me back at his clinic. I made it there just after 1 am, and after much pushing and pulling of my jaw, the dentist succeeded in popping it somewhat back into place.

    But not completely back into place- my teeth were set too far to the right, and the ones on the bottom were set exactly in line with the ones on top, when normally they are set just behind. Apparently, my jaw has spasmed, and due possibly to inflammation as well- it’s stuck there. Still- even as I type this, my jaw is set down and to the right. My teeth only align if I manually push things back into place, and that too is painful.

    So what now? Well, first we laugh and shake our head, but not too hard, because it’s all stiff and sore. Then, we wait one more day and see if the swelling goes down. We’re taking anti-inflammatory meds, and if that doesn’t work, the dentist will prescribe a muscle relaxant. Me, I just wish I could chew again.

    By Abez, the end.

  • *hangs head, drags feet*

    *hangs head, drags feet*

    You know that feeling when you’re a kid- when your mom calls you and you don’t want to come, but you know you have to, so you hang your head and drag your feet and shuffle towards her mumbling ‘Okay moooom.’

    HF is on his way to pick me up right now. We’re going to the dentist, where I will have my last two wisdom teeth removed.

    HF told me to be ready in 15 min.

    Okay mooooom.

  • Wouldja like to take a sur-vay?

    AssalamuAlaikum Every Mc Bodies who may still occasionally come to my blog. 🙂 A friend of mine is compiling information on Muslim eating habits in Ramadan for an article, and needs help.

    Can you please fill out this one-page survey?

    JazakAllahuKheiran!

    Up Next: RAMADAN IS COMING!! YAY!

  • The Husbandfiles: Moral Dental Support

    The Husbandfiles: Moral Dental Support

    HF: You’re having your wisdom teeth removed on Wednesday, right?

    Me: Yeah, the last two.

    HF: So now you’ll be as dumb as everyone else, hunh?

    Me: Do you have any wisdom teeth?

    HF: Lots of ’em.

  • Nap time, take two-

    Khalid, who is laying under my desk and pulling on my toes as I type this, is overdue for his nap. He would have been asleep already, had it not been for his iron determination to be awake. Half an hour ago we did the whole nap thing- we had lunch and then went to the bedroom, where I told him to lay down and he started rolling around in bed and protesting.

    Normally he protests for about ten minutes before he winds down and falls asleep, but today things went a little differently.

    3:00- I lay Khalid down in the bed and then take position in the rocking chair. As per tradition, I pick up a book and start reading.

    Khalid whines a bit and rolls around.

    3:15- Khalid goes quiet. I assume he’s asleep and continue reading. It’s Going Solo, by Roald Dahl, and as I get to the part where Dahl describes the incidence of the cook’s wife being carried away by a lion, I look up and realize that I can’t see Khalid. I can, however, see a pile of pillows in Khalid’s bed. Khalid doesn’t have pillows in his bed. In order for him to be hiding under a pile of them, he must first have crawled out of his bed into mine, grabbed all three of them, and then carried them back, all without me noticing.

    Also, pillows don’t normally have feet.

    I lift one of the pillows and see Khalid, grinning excitedly at me. I try not to laugh (which is one of the harder parts of parenting that those books never tell you about) and I take the pillows and put them back on my bed. Khalid protests and starts whining again.

    I sit down on the bed, which is closer than the rocking chair, to prevent further such secretive escapes. I resume reading. The cook’s wife is put down by the lion unharmed. She is wearing a red dress with white dots on it, and now she must wash it because there is lion saliva on it. Roald Dahl watches as the cook and his wife do a joyful dance on the immense brown plain and suddenly Khalid has gone quiet again. I look up from my book and see the top of Khalid’s head and his wide, unsleepy eyes watching me from just over the top of the bed. Then he ducks down and they disappear.

    A few seconds pass. Roald Dahl marvels at the strangeness of the situation- an old lion came out of the jungle, picked the cook’s wife up in its mouth and was carrying her back, gently and unharmed, to the jungle. Dahl is paid five pounds to write his account for the newspaper. Other hunters write to the paper and offer theories on the strange incidence. Khalid’s head comes up slowly again. I attempt to look stern.

    I cave and burst out laughing. Khalid realizes that he’s off the hook, and he jumps into my bed and we have a good laugh a roll-around.

    So that was the end of round one. Round two will begin as son as soon as I finish typing this blog. It’s 4:10 now, and Khalid is starting to rub his eyes and pull at his ears. I’m going to pick him up and put him in bed again. I wonder what happens to Roald Dahl next.

  • Are we a superhero yet?

    I would like to believe that my home is a warm and inviting place, but I would prefer to believe that has nothing to do with my resident population of spiders. Really. Big. Spiders.

    To be fair, there’s only been one so big I remember it in capital letters, but I digress- the Really Big Spider was just the big slow goon in the mafia of creepy, crafty, smaller spiders who are trying to muscle their way on to my turf. And they bite.

    I would like to believe that the four spider bites on my arm are in no way connected to contact with actual live spiders, because I don’t know if I could handle the realization that there were at least four spiders on my arm last night, or maybe one spider with impulse problems and four lapses of self control located between my wrist and my elbow- I don’t know. I don’t want to know. What I do want to know is- when do I get my super powers? I think I may have missed out on something here, because Spiderman only had to get bitten once, and I’m guessing that his one lil radioactive nibble didn’t itch half as much as the four non-nuclear bright red dots on my arm.

    If I’m going to have spiders crawling on me, I might as well have super powers.

    *waits*

    I’m not sure what Peter Parker had been up to when he was bitten, so I’m not sure what sort of radiation I should be trying to bask in. However, I do know that all it takes is some sort of energy field.

    If the spiders need me, I’ll be in the microwave.

  • An Update to end all Updates

    Once upon a time I joined Facebook, but only because Owlie made me. She did so by insisting that I visit her page to see her pictures rather than make her email them to me as attachments.

    So later upon a time, after I had joined and gone through the various stages:

    1. Denial (I don’t need a profile, I’m not really here!)
    2. Acceptance (Ok, I’ll fill in the box that asks for my gender…)
    3. Falling Into It Face-first (WHEE!)

    I am now at a point where I’m finding my old high school friends. Bear in mind that it’s been Ten Whole Years (henceforth referred to as TWY) since I graduated, so when people ask me where I’ve been and what I’ve been up to, I gots alot of explaining to do.

    So here, dear Facebook world, is what I’ve been up to since highschool, in blog form, and in case anyone else asks, just send them the link. Thanks.

    Having graduated from high school with both High Honors and Delusions of Grandeur, I enrolled in the School of Hard Knocks, courses in which have led me through adventures in journalism, English teaching, and now, Graphic Design, PR and Corporate Communications. Basically, I speaka da English, and using my trusty Lappy 486, I maka pretty stuff.

    At some point, I met and proposed to (yes, I proposed) to the funniest, sweetest, most eccentric goofball of a husband-HF, and three years and two criminally adorable children later, I live in the United Arab Emirates.

    Along the way, I have also managed to:

    -Successfully serve my appendix an eviction notice
    -Busticate my knee in a car accident

    Currently I am:

    – Huffing and puffing my way through Shotokan classes with HF
    – Working as a consultant
    – Eating watermelon

    That about covers it for me.

    So, what have you been up to for the last ten years?

  • Hello World

    I am a wonderful little test

  • Trip to the US cancelled, have an interesting list instead.

    Things I have found in the front-loading washing machine:

    • Raisins
    • Bite-sized pieces of kabob
    • Spoons
    • Khalid
  • KHALID SAID HIS FIRST WORD!

    Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah- at the age of two years and two months, my son finally said his first word.

    Socks.

    His first word is socks.

    I’m slightly miffed that he bypassed both of his parents and ended up on footwear, but for now I’m just happy he said something! Woohoo!

    Also, we’re coming to Amerika! This week! We’ll be in Chicago, so who wants to come over and play? 🙂

  • Why my orthopedic surgeon is cool. Also, my pre-busticated knee is on the fritz again

    Me: It hurts when I stand up or sit down, the front of the kneecap

    Doc: I see.

    Me: Also, there’s this squishy bit in here that moves around. What is it?

    Doc: (moving squishy bit around in my knee) That? It’s a bit of rice noodle.

    Me: Wha?

    Doc: Ha ha! Just joking. It’s gristle.

  • The Husbandfiles: He always said he’d woo me like I’d never been wooed before…

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    HF: You know, if I was stranded on a desert island, and had only one person with me, I’d want it to be you…

    Me:… 🙂

    HF: Because I’d want you to suffer too, HARHAR!

  • Toddler Anxiety Issues

    I must have the only two year old in the world who can cry so long and so hard that he gives himself a nosebleed. Or starts hyperventilating. Anyone else have anything similar?

    Update: A few months later, Khalid was diagnosed with autism, and suddenly, things like this made sense. 🙂

  • Notes from the night shift

    Prepping Khalid for bed= pajamas, diaper change, warm milk.

    Prepping me= cup of coffee and two extra-strength aspirin.

    12:40 am, and the bedtime battle is well underway.

  • The Bebefiles: Things Khalid may be up to when it’s too quiet and you haven’t seen him for the last minute or so

    Splashing around in the toilet

    Eating vaseline

    Hammering on the computer chair (with a real hammer)

    Hiding behind the curtains with his father’s phone

    Opening and closing the CD drive on the laptop repeatedly

    Eating laundry soap with a toy spoon (but apparently giving up after just a taste)

    Drinking dishwashing liquid (and then throwing up on the kitchen floor)

  • Ma-Ma?

    Ma-Ma?

    IMG_1638So Khalid still doesn’t talk. At all. He doesn’t even say Mama. I mean, he does say things like akichigaa and gagin-gagin and mamamamamamaaaaaaa, but nothing with meaning and context.

    I’m not worried about his development, just impatient to be able to communicate with him. All of the recommendations about helping ease sibling rivalry and smoothly introducing a new baby to your toddler involve communicating with your child and getting them to help you care for the baby. Multiple mothers, including all you lovely people in my comment box (I apologize for not being able to reply most of the time) recommend the same thing- let your toddler help and the problem will resolve itself.

    I completely agree, but ‘please bring me the powder’ is about as meaningful to Khalid as akichigaa is to me. We’re not speaking the same language, and I know he gets frustrated trying to communicate what he wants. I end up handing him everything on the dining table only to find out he wants something from the window-sill behind it.

    So how do you involve a non-verbal toddler in caring for a newborn? As it is right now, Khalid probably thinks his sister’s name is Gently. He approaches her, raises his hand, and is greeted with “Khalid jaan, gently. Gently… no whacking! Pat her gently, gently!” I wouldn’t be surprised if it was his first word, heh.

    Ah well, Iman is doing well Alhamdulillah, and seems happy and amused at things in general when she’s awake. Alhamdulillah that newborns spend so much time sleeping, it gives me time to lavish some attention on Khalid when I’m not running after him and trying to put the house back together in his wake.

    Gots to go, both kids are asleep and their mother needs a shower.

    Over & Out,
    Abez & Tribe

  • A toddler, a Newborn and a Paradigm Shift

    Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah. We’ve been home a week and Iman is healthy, happy, and adorable in the squashy, pink, surprised-looking way that newborns are so good at. Khalid, on the other hand, is having a rough time, as we seem to have brought home fierce competition for his Momma’s attention.

    When I change Iman’s diaper, it’s with Khalid trying to push me away from the changing station. When I nurse her, her tries to pull her out of my lap, and when she cries, he puts his hands over his ears and starts crying too. They take turns waking up throughout the day and night- Five minutes into Khalid’s nap, Iman woke up. An hour and a half later, Iman went back to sleep. Half an hour after that, Khalid woke up. So we’ve had a rough week, but we’re learning how to cope.

    I am determined not only to cope though, but to succeed. Succeed at what? Ah, now there’s the paradigm shift- a paradigm shift being a radical change of perspective- The standard of a productive, successful day once included a clean house, a freshly-cooked meal, a well maintained toddler and at least two hours of work. But that was the standard for Abez and Khalid. The standard for Abez and Khalid and Iman involves a house, a meal, and two alive children.

    Work is not a possibility.
    Getting dressed is optional.
    Lunch today was peanut butter.

    So, according to the new standards, we’re not doing half bad! Look, we’ve even found a little time to write a blog! (Iman is asleep, Khalid is being fed breakfast) We’ve also found time to dig out our box of pre-maternity wardrobe, try things on, and then be both horrified and amazed- (Horrified that we seem to be so very far away from buttoning anything, amazed that we were able to just a few months back.)

    But I digress- it’s been a bumpy ride, but we’re moving forward Alhamdulillah.

  • Alhamdulillah- The Mystery Bean Arrives!

    Lil Naughty Baby Girl Iman has arrived, Alhamdulillah. 3.7 kilos, 11 days after her due date, and 1 day before she was scheduled for eviction.

    Will update more shortly, have not yet opened my mailbox.

    Zzzz

  • RUN AWAY!!!!

    So I spent another night in the hospital, as the doctors tend to recommend that you do when you’re in early labor. And then we escaped. And then today we went back for our CTG appointment, and the doctors again said, you’re in early labor and strongly recommended we stay. And you know what we said? RUN AWAY!!!! I live ten minutes from the hospital, and if I’m going to languish in the labor twilight zone, I’m going to languish here at home!

    Yes, I am in early labor, no, we have no idea how long this could take. Technically, I’ve been in early labor since the 23rd. I feel immense, and today the consultant who saw me asked the nurse if I was carrying twins. No, no twins, just one very stubborn little baby!

    Khalid spent the weekend with HF’s parents, who have been both delighted and exhausted to have his crazy-pants company. HF has gone to retrieve him now, and when he returns, we will finish watching Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind. HF bought me the entire Miyazaki collection so I have stuff to watch in the hospital. As usual, HF is my hero. 🙂

    They’ll be back soon, so I need to go straighten up while I still can and then get some food ready for Khalid. Keep us in your prayers, and in the mean time, have some Monty Python.

  • Hooray for Baskin Robbins

    And for HF who brought me a whole gallon of Dutch Chocolate to begin with.

    We’re home from two nights in the hospital, but we still seem to be pregnant. *checks enormous stomach* Yep, definitely still pregnant. In what may be a perfectly normal but seriously frustrating experience in childbearing, we’ve been in early labor two days now, nothing overly painful, all systems basically go, but no active labor to push Mystery Bean into making his/her debut.

    The nurses told me to walk, so I walked. And when that didn’t work, I raced HF up the hospital stairwell, and then we walked some more. I’ve spent two nights and two days walking around the hospital, and finally the doctors gave in to my insistence on going home. I figured if I am going to walk and wait, I might as well in the comfort of my own house with a bowl of my own ice cream.

    Today we are Term + 6, which is the medical way of saying this baby should have been out six days ago. If I’m still pregnant by T+8, then I have a scheduled induction waiting for me, which is the medical way of saying that this baby is going to be served an eviction notice!

    It’s been an interesting experience, but I will blog more about it later. There’s a nap with my name on it, and I’m going to go fall into it face-first.

  • InshaAllah

    So apparently I did get to attend the henna and the wedding, and now that we’re done running amok all over the emirates, we may have some good news shortly InshaAllah.

    😉

  • The waiting game

    If I just *pretend* that the baby is due this weekend, maybe I can attend the two weddings and two henna parties I’ve been invited to in the next two days, starting today. Right! Okay! Off we go, to a mehndhi!

    (If anyone needs me, I’ll be the guest that looks like a cannon ball in an abaya!)

  • Post number 600: A note on zombies…

    Yes, this really is my 600th post, and yes, it really is going to be about zombies.

    I used to play video games, and for some odd reason, that involved fighting alot of zombies. I’m not sure why the manufacturers of these games are so caught up in vanquishing zombies- it’s not like the real world has a serious undead infestation and as art imitates life, so must gaming. But, I understand why the zombies and not, say… the commies. Zombies are non-political, non-trademarked enemies that everyone understands and no one can really be offended by. Also, they’re scary.

    Way too scary, for people like me apparently, who have not played any zombie-themed video games for years but still find themselves hosting zombie-dreams at night. Which is why, Khalid, Mystery Bean- you guys are only getting adorable video games with adorable non-dead enemies. And no blood. Or gore. Or eating of peoples’ faces.

    I never thought I would be one of those uptight parents, but I fully expect to have both Khalid and Mystery Bean whining at me in a store about why they can’t buy BloodBath of the Starving Undead in the Castle of Carnage- The Sequel! (Director’s Cut: Now with more gore!) And I’m not sure how to go about convincing them that violent, gory video games will rot their brains, apart from providing my own example.

    (We are not buying you that horrible game!)
    (But Momma, why not?)
    (It’ll give your momma nightmares!)

    I suppose I’ll just have to explain it to them as best as I can and provide non-gory alternatives until they’re old enough to believe me. It seems dramatic and ridiculous, but there are still certain sounds, certain shadows- certain little creaks that stairs make- and all of a sudden I’m Jill Valentine, Leon, or Aya Brea, and I’m alone in the dark with no ammo, none of that magic first-aid spray, and no chance of surviving the onslaught.

    So yeah. No zombies for Khalid and Mystery Bean.

    And speaking of Mystery Bean, today is his/her due date, and no show! What gives! I know the 19th is only halfway over (it’s noon) but come on kid! Get out already! My account at babycenter.com, which has sent me week-by-week email on pregnancy for the last 40 weeks, has already switched over to newsletters for newborns!

    Mystery Bean is late!

  • The Husbandfiles: My Hero 🙂

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    I have nightmares pretty often these days as my sleeping brain tries to make its own explanation up for why we’re in pain. Though the real reason is full-term pregnancy, my brain thinks it’s zombies. Our stomach hurts not because we have indigestion, but because the zombies got us. Our legs hurt not because of poor circulation, but because the zombies are chewing on them. If our arm hurts, it’s not because we have it wedged uncomfortably against the headboard- not unless the zombies did that for us too.

    So I woke up this morning, a lil disoriented and scared and shaken (yep, zombies) and hearing a sound from outside the bedroom, ran out hoping it was HF and not merely zombies using his toothbrush. HF, seeing the look on my face as well as what the zombies probably did to my hair in the middle of the night, immediately understood and did what he always does- he rescued me. 🙂 We had a hug and two chocolate cookies and watched the trailer for Wall-E, by which time the zombies were old news. We woke up Khalid, tickled him until he looked less groggy, and then sent HF on his merry (and InshaAllah safe) way to work.

    I love HF. I can’t say that often enough, really. The other day, when I called him on the phone and demanded something chocolate, he came back with four packs of chocolate cookies and half a gallon of Baskin Robbins.

    Midnight a few days before that, as I was going on my third half-hour of trying to battle Khalid to sleep, HF burst suddenly through the darkened bedroom door (ran back to turn on the lights, and then burst in again) to inform me that he was here to rescue me. Bebeface stopped caterwauling, HF gave me a hug, and then we did my favorite thing in the world- we unpacked boxes and cleaned the house. 🙂 Two hours later, with the house clean and Khalid too exhausted to put forth resistance, we went peacefully to bed.

    Alhamdulillah. JazakAllah. SubhanAllah.

    HF, you are the awesomest.

  • Attention Nature: Khalid bites back!

    I *was* about to put all three of us (Khalid & Mystery Bean and I) down for a much-needed nap, except we experienced a slight detour on the way to the bedroom, where Khalid discovered, and promptly attempted to eat, a live beetle.

    And I, in all the grossness that is being the Momma of a little boy, reached in and pulled the live beetle out of his mouth.

    And Khalid ran away and threw a tantrum in a corner by the bathroom.
    (my snaa-aaa-aaaaack! bwaaaa-haaaaa-haaaa!)

    And the beetle got back on its feet and resumed its wobbly journey across the living room carpet.

    And I went for the vacuum cleaner.

    I’ll feel sorry for the beetle later. Right now I’m grossed out. And sleepy.

    -zonk-

  • Nature: IT’s OUT TO GET ME!

    First of all, a word about the bees. After my last post, I crawled into bed, pulled the covers up to my ears and went to sleep. I woke up about an hour later with HF tucking the blankets around me and and whispering, “There are no bees, shhh, go back to sleep.”

    I drifted off to sleep thinking- my hero! and snoozed happily for another half an hour.

    When I properly woke up, around Asr time, HF and Khalid were both still asleep, so I figured I’d get up and go on a tour of my now bee-free house. In the living room, there were two dead bees on the window sill, and in the kitchen, around six or seven. I was a bit surprised, since when I went to sleep I really, literally had dozens and dozens of bees, and the idea that only a handful had fallen in HF’s anti-bee offensive seemed a little odd, but I was happy to have such a minor clean-up job.

    Now, imagine my surprise when HF woke up and clarified that his statement of “There are no bees,” did not actually mean “There are no longer any bees because I, your brave and wonderful husband, have killed them all. Sirrah.” It actually meant “There aren’t any bees there. Because I can’t find any, my adorably kooky wife. “

    For two days HF teased me about InvisiBees. And then I found one last dead bee in the living room and I saved it for him and showed it to him, but it hasn’t made much of a difference- he thinks it’s the funniest thing ever, and I have to admit- it’s seems ridiculous to have an invasion of bees, call for reinforcements, and then suddenly not have an invasion anymore. Where did they all go? Why did they up and leave? And why did they leave a whole bunch of dead bees behind? Political infighting? Bee gang violence?

    It doesn’t end there. Yesterday, my purse was full of ants. Hundreds of ants. And I wore said purse, and said ants, to the car, and when I put my purse down on the seat, it rained ants. And there were ants in my clothes, and ants in my wallet, and ants other places where one never, ever wants ants (like in one’s chewing gum).

    I gracefully and calmly exited the car (hooray for artistic license), threw my purse on the floor, shook off my clothes and raged at the ants for a while. Then I picked my purse up with the two smallest parts of two of my bravest fingers, and shook it out onto the floor- money, pretzel sticks, gum, phone, wallet… everything crawling with ants whose take on the entire eviction seemed to be “RUN FOR IT!”

    I shook off the few items I considered essential (I had been on my way to pick up HF from work, and was already running late) cash, phone, keys- and took my indignant self and all of my heebie-jeebies back to the car, where we swatted ants off the seats and floor mats for a while before heading off, 20 minutes late.

    Half-way home again, after I had already narrated my misadventures, complete with dramatic reenactment and insistence on a new purse (and a new car, and maybe a new house), the ants that had started out on the floor had made it to the ceiling, and two of them dropped onto HF while one of them plodded admirably along, upside down towards the windshield.

    The good news is, HF believed me.

    The bad news is, we seem to have an ant problem.

    The conciliatory news is, I get a new purse.

    By Abez. The End.

  • An Update from Behind Enemy Lines

    I saw Bee Movie last night, but that doesn’t make me feel any better right now- the kitchen and living room have been invaded by bees.

    A whole. lotta. bees.

    You will notice that every word in the above sentence has been italicized for emphasis. Whole has been emphasized in conjunction with Lotta, to accurately convey the dozens and dozens of big, fat, bees buzzing around my kitchen, crawling on the counters, partying in the trash can and banging their heads against the window that isn’t open. Bees has been italicized to emphasize that in addition to being many, the invaders are also Bees of all things. Ants are tolerable, moths are annoying but harmless, flies are well within manageability, but bees?

    (Why couldn’t I have been invaded by squirrels? At least squirrels are cute, and I’d rather be bitten than stung.)

    I suppose it’s my fault for opening a window on this lovely, sunny, breezy day, but by the same logic, it will be the bees’ own fault for being on the wrong side of that window when HF gets home to rescue me! He’s bringing bug spray! My Hero! Take that, bees!

    Also, the movie stunk.

    -sigh-

    Oh hey, we have internet now! Alhamdulillah, as of this morning, a nice man from Etisalat came and set up the DSL line. Granted, he came at 9:30, and if he had been anyone else I would have turned him away at the door for showing up at such an ungodly hour. Trust me, 9:30 is very, very early when you have:

    -gone to bed at 1 the night before
    -woken up repeatedly throughout the night w/a sick, screamy toddler
    -the flu

    HF, Khalid and I are all out of commission w/the flu, and now, in addition to my lil home being a quarantine unit, it’s also a battlefield. The reinforcements are still many minutes away, and they still have to stop at a store and buy bug spray before they get home, so further hooray for DSL. Now I have something to do while I hide here in the bedroom and wonder if bees know how to crawl under doors.

    On a non-invasive note, Baby 2.0 is doing fine, kung-fu’ing as usual, trying to push my ribs out of the way and trying to defensively wiggle away from Khalid, who thinks my enormous stomach is a great place to climb, drive toy cars on, and try to sleep on. I have officially run out of lap, and am at week 36.

    It’s 1:45 now, and I guess lunch is on hold until the kitchen is reclaimed. HF should get home soon, I think I’m going to lay down and see if I can catch a few min of zzz’s before he does.

    Peace & Chikken Grease
    -Abez & Co.

  • There’s a Ninja Turtle on my grill

    It’s Donatello, actually, and I believe he was a Happy-Meal gift from Bebe’s crazy aunt, Owlie. I noticed that this morning, as I was microwaving Khalid’s cereal, and HF’s matter of fact reply was, “Of course, he’s keeping it safe.”

    Which brings me to an interesting realization- I, Abez, am nearing 28, am the mother of 1.9 children (Mystery Bean is due in abt 3 weeks) and the maintainer of my own lil house, and it is guarded by Ninja Turtles. And populated with a thriving community of boxes. And stocked with things like granola bars and frozen strawberries and four different kinds of cereal. And I have wall to wall carpeting, and one sofa, and no dining table, and no phone and no internet access, but my cabinets are meticulously organized, except for the ones where I have crammed things in and then closed the door real fast so things don’t topple back out.

    I am One. Weird. Adult.

    Also, I am nine months pregnant, Alhamdulilah, and getting to that point in pregnancy where I’m running out of space for things like eating, breathing, and maneuvering through doors. Mystery Bean will be due soon, InshaAllah, and sad but true, that will mean even less blogging. I’m trying to not feel guilty about that, since my primary obligations seem to belong mostly to my lil tribe. 🙂

    Speaking of whom, the natives are getting restless, and are heading my way with a spatula in one hand. Time to save and publish before all is lost in the ambush.

  • Blog in a bottle-

    I tell you, first-born kids have all the luck- Khalid got the Bebefiles and there may be at least a dozen entries devoted to him, but Mystery Bean not only has only the faintest of mentions, but is also frequently bounced up and down on by Khalid, who either has zero idea what’s going on, or every certainty that competition is coming, and is doing his best to squash it early.

    People have asked me whether Khalid seems to be reacting to the great, huge bump in my shirt. Well, he does like to drive his toy cars on it, but that’s about it. Umm, and he likes to pet my stomach too, but this recent development isn’t limited to me- he will reach up his HF’s shirt and feel around there, and up my pants legs too, and any opportunity he can get to touch and poke bare skin he will take, regardless of whose it is.

    We’re still on borrowed internet time, so I must cut and run, will try to update more soon-

    Queen Abez of Boxville

  • Two minute update

    AssalamUAlaikum and hello in fastforward-

    an in net cafe with stick keyboard -chocolate icecream or something apaperntly- and we’re doing good, but the internet may be weeks away. Finally havee running fridge, washing machine and stove, life is good Alhamdulillah and I have so much laundry accumulated that I’ve started hiding it in the packing boxes as I empty them :p Seriously. But at least we have home-cooked food, SubhanAllah, because I had Popeye’s the other day for the first time in my life and am not suer why anyone would eat that voluntarily but ONE MINUTE OF NET TIME LEFT!! GAAAH!

    Peace & Chikken Grease,
    Live from the Gas Station,
    -CRACKERS!

  • T-minus ten hours and counting…

    The movers will be here in ten hours, to box, bubble-wrap, and tape shut our worldly possessions and ship them to the new place which, at the moment, has neither internet nor a fridge :p The fridge is coming on Sunday InshaAllah, the internet is coming when Etisalat says so.

    Incidentally, I own too much stuff again, but that is another blog for another unknown day. Please make dua for us, moving plus being 31 weeks pregnant (the beginning of month 8) as well as the keeper of a tantrumariffic toddler is physically taxing as well simply stressful.

    Catch y’all on the flip side!

    -Abez & Co.

  • Updates all around

    Update number 1: we know the gender of the mystery bean! hahahahahaaaa!! And if you know me well enough to have my phone number or email address, I’ll tell you! But if not, you can wait until the end of March to find out! hahahaha!

    Update number 2: We’re in the process of moving to a place closer to HF’s work, so computer (as well as leisure) time is little and lacking. The good news is, HF will now have half an hour of commute instead of an hour and a half of commute (we’re talking one way here folks), and I’m really looking forward to having him around again. 🙂

    Update number 3: Sleep training is continuing in some form or another, with mixed results, but I haven’t the time to go into detail, cuz this fat tired pregnant blogger needs a nap.

    By Zeba the end.

  • The Bebefiles: A change of tactics

    So we managed to stick to sleep training for ten nights- ten nights of screaming and then collapsing out of exhaustion, and as Khalid screamed and bounced for 2 1/2 hours last night, I had to admit that his sleep time wasn’t improving. Supposedly, letting the kid cry it out is the fastest method- and results take 3-5 days, tops. Ten days in, and Khalid miserable and cranky all day, and HF and I both rapidly losing hope, we have changed our approach.

    I’m not sure what we’ve changed it to though. All I know is that this morning at 6 am, as I was quietly eating cereal in the kitchen to make up for no dinner last night, Waleed brought me Khalid. I was confused. I did a double-take. Then I scooped my poor, miserable, puffy-eyed, pink faced bebe up and put him, not in his crib, but to sleep. And he went to sleep and woke up happy at ten am. Today, Khalid is himself for the first time in such a long time. He’s exploring, he’s giggling, he’s chasing and being chased around the house- compare this to how he’d been lately- stressed out, tired, and miserable unless actively distracted. Today is a vast improvement.

    Have we thrown in the towel? I don’t think so. But I know I cried all over it last night (as well as HF) and used it to wipe my nose a few times. This morning, I took down the curtain I’d put up around Khalid’s crib so he could learn to sleep ‘on his own.’ Tonight, well, I’m not sure what I’m going to do tonight. We have options.

    What I would like to do is remove the absolute terror that Khalid now perceives his crib with before I try to teach him to sleep in it again. I know from experience that this involves taking one of the sides off and pushing it against our bed so that even though he’s sleeping in his crib, he’s got me next to him. Then, after a week or so, I can start putting him in the crib after he’s already fallen asleep. Right now, even taking him in the vicinity of his crib sends him in to a panic, and I’ve tried before to put him in it (asleep) before getting him used to it, and the result is not unlike an instantly awake, very afraid, and desperately clingy 35-pound barnacle.

    That’s what I would like to do, and I think I will. A different option is to put Khalid in his crib at bedtime, and then sit beside it (without making eye-contact, without speaking to him or soothing him in any way) while he fusses it out, still unhappy, but at least slightly reassured because he hasn’t been left alone. I’m sure that may be effective on its own, but following the ten nights of terror, I think simply me being there won’t be enough to help him calm down and sleep. His crib is a source of serious stress for him, and on top of that, he’s developed separation anxiety to the point where he panics if I leave his sight. He thinks he’s going to be left alone again.

    Yes, I feel guilty enough to keel over and die. Yes, someone shoot me now.

    I know he needs to be sleep-trained, and I know that it’ll be hard work no matter what we try. I just pray we’re doing it the right way and we’re not traumatizing the poor barnacle.

    Please remember us in your duas. Tonight is yet another night, let’s see what comes, InshaAllah.

  • The Bebefiles: Stubborness, Thy Name is Khalid

    The Bebefiles: Stubborness, Thy Name is Khalid

    So it seems like a quarterly tradition- ever so often we try to sleep-train Khalid again. My Bebeface, who is now 21 months old, will still insist on being rocked to sleep and then wake every two hours in the night, which is a behavior more appropriate for a newborn than a toddler. Previous attempts at sleep training (from the Ferber method to the Sleepeasy Solution) have all gone bust- instead of Khalid learning to soothe himself to sleep, he cries longer, harder, and sometimes to the point where he throws up.

    The difference between the Ferber method (throw kid in crib, walk away, don’t look back, go eat a carton of icecream) and the Sleepeasy Solution is that w/Ferber, the kid’s on his own. With Sleepeasy, you go back in and check on the kid at regular and increasing intervals. Unless, that is, showing your face to the kid doesn’t calm him so much as it gives him a reason to go up three decibels for another twenty minutes. We’ve tried the Sleepeasy solution twice, and two days before Eid, we went back to Ferber.

    Lo and Behold, Khalid is putting himself to sleep, but not in the way he’s supposed to. Case in point:

    Day One: Khalid cries for two hours and 45 minutes. Both he and his Momma wake up the next morning looking traumatized and ready to call it quits, except his Momma is hackingly sick, six months pregnant and woefully incapable of waking up and rocking him every two hours. So we decide we’re going to stick with it and go for…

    Day Two: Khalid cries for one hour and then passes out. There is much rejoicing. He wakes up at 8:30 in the morning, still looking traumatized and cranky, but there is progress, so we carry forward.

    Day Three: Khalid cries for one minute, but here’s the catch- he stands, bouncing silently in his crib, for two hours before falling asleep standing up and eventually collapsing out of exhaustion. To which his stressed-out, guilt-ridden, and still pretty darn sick Momma goes What the ?!

    They do not say ANYTHING about your kid bouncing for two hours continuously, or finally falling asleep with his head hanging over the edge of the crib, and then slumping down and waking up eight hours later looking miserable. Last night was night six, and he’s done the bounce & collapse two hours later routine every night, except last night, he regressed a bit and cried for an hour and a half first. Where my rule is that I will NOT pick him back up once I’ve put him in his crib for the night, his is that he will NOT voluntarily lay down, no matter what. I have laid in bed watching him sleep standing up, he periodically wakes as he begins to slip, whines a bit, readjusts his standing position and then goes back to sleep.

    HF, who watched him yesterday night as well, crawled into bed after Khalid had collapsed to sleep and whispered to me, “I feel so sad…” I nearly broke out in tears, because up until that point, I had been relying on HF to be my extra source of courage and determination. To know that he felt as miserable about Khalid’s stress as I did was hard to hear, because I was hoping that I felt horrible because I was Khalid’s Momma and a big fat softie and that I was biologically programed to feel like crying myself whenever he went off. To hear that HF, who has no such biological programming, felt badly too meant that Khalid was genuinely pathetic and darn-near tragic, and it wasn’t just me. If Khalid hadn’t already been asleep by that point, I would have thrown in the towel and called it quits for sleep training until he was in his teens.

    Last night, as I said before, Khalid cried for an hour and a half, and I stayed in the room with him until he finally quited down and eventually passed out. It was an incredibly stressful night, we put him in his crib at 8:40 and he finally slept at 11. This morning he woke up at 8:30 as usual. Where is he now? Sitting in my lap and periodically swiping at the keyboard. A few minutes ago, he was making faces at himself in the bedroom mirror. Before that, he was vacuuming the floor for me (as well as the bed and the top of the dresser, good help is so hard to find!). He’s fine. He gets stressed out when he knows that bedtime is coming, but that’s to be expected I guess. Until he realizes that all he has to do is lay the heck down, bedtime is pretty stressful for him too.

    We’re going to keep with it though, because leaving Khalid to figure it out on his own seems to be easier on him than checking up on him. When I checked up on him, he screamed continuously until he passed out. When we let him think he’s by himself (I put a curtain up around his crib and I sit wringing my hands behind it) he quiets down and then just bounces. I don’t know whether he’s bouncing because he’s bored or whether that’s how he’s putting himself to sleep. He’ll learn though InshaAllah. He has to learn. As stubborn as he is, he can’t keep this up forever, and as much as I love my Bebeface, we have another one coming very soon, and I am only one Momma, with one lap and only one rechargeable battery.

    Please make dua, that God, in His Infinite Mercy and Kindness, teach my crazy son how to lay down and go to sleep, and that he give us both health and patience and strength, Insha’Allah.

  • Eid Mubarak!

    AssalamuAlaikum and Eid Mubarak everypeoples. Whateverypeoples still read my blog anyway -koff-. I have laryngitis. And an upper respiratory infection. Interested parties may email for a free sample, and I will attach a sample of my germs. Cuz that’s all I got. And don’t say I never gave ye nuttin..

    😉

    Please remember us in your duas. Still craptastically sick.

  • blah….

    Turns out my flu is a respiratory infection, and I’m still hacking and coughing and shuffling through the day, but now with antibiotics. Khalid has picked up a snotty nose and fever and fantastic levels of crankiness to go along with his not feeling well. Please make dua, we need it!

    Exhaustedly,
    -Abez