Category: Uncategorized

This is the view from our window. The natural beauty here is amazing, SubhanAllah.

So much for updating on time- Now we’re in New Zealand- Auckland to be precise, and Khalid has gone from US jetlag to NZ jetlag, and I am one confused disoriented tired nauseated Momma. It’s a bidness trip, so HF is trying to work as well as take Khalid off my hands when he can so I can sleep. It’s 8pm now, and Khalid has been asleep for six hours already, have no idea when he’s going to wake, but I need to pray and crash. Lest I crash and burn.

Please make dua.

*falls out of chair*

AssalamuAlaikum EveryBodies!

-phew- Ok, so here’s a very quick rundown of what’s happening, which I promise to follow with a more detailed travelogue post soon InshaAllah.

Khalid and I are finally nearly normal- he came back with the flu, and I came back with bronchitis, and spent many hot cold snotty miserable lead-lunged days sleeping it off. I say we’re nearly normal because we’re not quite there yet- Khalid is still on a time zone other than this one, and combine that with my highly unsuccessful attempts to straighten him out, and you’ve got a baby who’s going to sleep every night at nine and waking up at 4 am.

We. Are. So. Tired.

Neither of us is properly rested, and instead of his normal sleep schedule of 12 hours at night and a 3 hour nap in the middle of the day, he’s sleeping seven hours at night and five hours in the middle of the afternoon. The less he sleeps, the lighter he sleeps, waking often, waking cranky, and wanting nothing but Momma’s lap.

So yeah, we are still recovering, please make dua for us, we’re collectively wiped out and desperately need rest. Oh, and Ramadan Kareem!

Down but not out,
-Abez

In an hour and a half, bebeface and I (who have endured a whirlwind vacation that’s included Chicago, ISNA, Indianapolis, Amtrak, DC, and a horrible flu) will hop a taxi to Dulles airport, where we will cram our snotty, exhausted, and congested but happy selves onto an Air France flight back home, InshaAllah.

Then, there will be much rejoicing, as well as resting, and afterwards, there will be blogging.

Laters, Alligators

Khalid and I are heading state-side from the 20th (tomorrow!) until the 6th of September- we’ll be in Chicago most of the time, and DC for the last day or so.

Yay! Road Trip! :p

There are some days when you are so tired, and so sapped of energy, that the only will you can muster is to sigh very deeply. And maybe eat another cookie. Today is one of those days. I’m supposed to be working, but I’m actually reading pages and pages of information on the questions of what’s permissible and what’s not in cheese. Rats, I closed the links.. well, anyone who wants a copy can email me.

And Khalid is emptying the shoe cabinet, one sandal at a time. Here he comes with the high-heels I got married in (and never wore again). Ladies, I tell you, when it comes to buying shoes for your wedding, don’t buy anything unless you can see yourself wearing it again. I have a closet full of shoes I haven’t worn in two years.

Wow, this is a random blog.

*falls out of chair*

*falls asleep*

Owlie is blogging again! Or rather, she will be! As soon as she sees what I’ve done to her blog. :p

Hooray!

The best of some anti-smoking ads featured on Youtube.com. Some are pretty graphic, but anyone who smokes must watch, and anyone who doesn’t smoke should watch anyway.

And last but definitely not least-

It’s 6:25 am, and HF is asleep, and although it’s logical that he be snoozing at this time, I wish he were up. I need someone to sob on. Owlie is gone- en route to the airport right now, en route to big and exciting and prestigious journalism-flavored adventures in the US of A.

It is not my intention to write a blog that will make Owlie sad, though we parted with tears, and it is not my intention to make her feel guilty by saying that I will miss her in a way that aches so bad, so very bad right now. I want you to know, Zarina, that I know you will do fantastically, I know you will rock the ever-lovin socks off of your colleagues and your professors. You will charm a new village, you charismatic dictator, you- and in doing so you will only add to the vast group (take a number, get in line) of the people who adore your wry wisdom and your awesome baking and can see through the armored exterior to the chewy nougat center in the middle.

And I will make you proud. 🙂 I will prosper, I will carry on, and in your absence, I will create my own adventures, and as I sit here on your bed, making a mountain of soggy tissues, I am eying the box of Nutty Buddy bars and already wondering what sort of person eats four, and also, whether you can send me another box. :p There will never be any replacing of you- I checked, your EULA doesn’t cover replacement in the case of loss, but the good news is I don’t need to replace you because you’re not gone. Just like me, you’re still here, but just slightly there.

And there you will have the world as your oyster cracker, and possibilities will lay themselves before you, and you, Pikachu, will evolve in Journalismchu. I believe in you.

You will be fine, but we already know that. You need to know that I will be fine, and when you come back, I will be here, keeping your spot warm.

I love you. I miss you already.

I am proud of you.

Love,
Cowpie

In the last five minutes alone, Khalid has:

• Placed one of my shoes in the bed next to HF (who is taking a nap)
• Helped himself to a seam ripper that had been (or so I thought) safely out of his reach
• Taken HF’s glasses off of the desk (also, presumed to be safely out of reach) dropped them on the floor, and nearly succeeded in standing on them.

Khalid’s previous exploits have included:

• Infiltrating the bathroom and splashing about in the toilet up to his elbows
• Removing the cover from the drain in the kitchen floor and staring down the dark hole
• Sorting the dirty laundry from the basket, one article at a time
• Hitting redial and making international phone calls
• Emptying HF’s sock drawer of socks

At the moment, Khalid is:

• Sitting on the floor banging a green ball and an orange ring together
• Heading my way with the orange ring
• Dropping the ring on the floor
• picking the ring back up
• Dropping it again
• (he likes the sound)

Right!

So I’m very behind and very overwhelmed by my current workload, and in times like this, it’s good to make a to-do list, and if one posts the to-do list on their blog, then maybe it counts as an update, yes?

To-Do (in order of descending urgency)

• July eZine Draft 1

• PRB Marketing Campaign Draft 2
• Confirmation Instructions HTML
• CBC entry form
• Invoice & Outcome statement pub file
• Website Correction/Review

Ok, now it doesn’t look like all that much. Off to work we go!

Chateau de Chateau- Castle of Castles, has been the name for my parent’s home ever since I got married two years ago. It’s been the place where I come back to be a daughter again, to laugh with my sister and get hugs from my parents and wake up late in the afternoon to find two different cakes in the refrigerator, both of which make an excellent breakfast.

Within a few weeks, the Chateau will be moving. Owlie is flying away to a super-cool science journalism fellowship where she will spend the next ten months evolving into an uber-journalist. I’m very proud of her, and very excited, and to say that I’ll miss her is a drastic understatement.

Owlie and I, though we passed through a ‘mortal enemy’ stage somewhere during adolescence, are close enough to be considered two heads on the same set of shoulders. And although me getting married and moving off to husbandland has put some distance between us, it just means the shoulders have gotten a little bigger. I’ve kind of been avoiding the issue- not thinking too hard about it, trying not to bring it up, but within a week or so, Owlie will be gone and I will be oceans away from the sister that I have 24 years of inside jokes saved up with. (Tartar Sauce: The fish that doesn’t swim)

It’s only fair I guess, Owlie had to deal with Abez withdrawal when I got married, and now I have to deal with Owlie withdrawal for a while. It’s not permanent though, InshaAllah she’ll be back soon. And I’m going to fly down to the states to visit too.

And now Daddy will be heading state-side too. Lil Brudder, our great huge youngest sibling, is in need of some Dadderly guidance to get through college, and so Daddy is heading down for a few months. Momma has been in the states for a few months now, and you would think years of living like a nomad would desensitize me, but I miss my Momma. I miss Lil Brudder. And now I will miss Owlie and Daddy.

Alhamdulillah, I have HF and Bebeface here, and Hemmie has been drafted to be my stand-in sister, and Mona has volunteered too now that’s she’s back from India, which gives you the warm fuzzy feeling of being loved and knowing that you’re not alone, but you can never replace your family. You can add on to it, but you can never replace it.

And the Chateau is being packed up and rented out, so my castle in the sky with cake in the fridge will have someone else living in it. Let’s hope they bake. I wonder if they’ll let me come over on Thursdays.

Sigh.

Once upon a time, approximately yesterday, a young woman in a pink track suit began her first day at work at a beauty salon. It was all going well until just around lunch time, a customer came in for a hair cut. The customer said hello, and she had brought along a friend and asked her for a little trim. The lady nodded, sat the customer down, and broke out the scissors.

After a few minutes of snipping, the customer resembled what happens to barbie dolls when bad little girls play with scissors. Or maybe weed-whackers.

And the customer called Hemmie (who was out walking Bebeface) and the customer called HF, and the customer called Daddy, and the customer has to admit she even cried, but she couldn’t help it, it was just that bad. (She had just come in for a trim, not to have her head chopped in to a sideways mullet)

And after a bit of discussion two things were concluded:

1. The pink track suit lady, although nice, was not actually a trained beautician of any sort, and lied to get the job.
2. The salon would pay for the customer to get her hair fixed somewhere else.

And then the customer went home, hopped into a car and sat through an hour of Dubai traffic to wait an hour and a half for a turn in a very busy, very nice salon, and then told her sob story to the old beautician (whose name was Hermie) who looked through her glasses (which were hung on a string around her neck) at the customer and said, “Oh my God, what was she doing…?”

And there was much snippage, and much concentration, and much more snippage to even out the damage, and Hermie finally brushed and blow-dried the customer off and pronounced it a success, at least what was left of it anyway.

Sigh.

Ok, so there were some high points in this misadventure. Hemmie not only provided free babysitting, but also much needed emotional support throughout the ordeal. And HF left his office work to magically appear with cake and hugs. And Daddy did the drive to Dubai, the two hour wait with Khalid, and then the drive back.

By Zeba The End.

But Khalid is toddling my way with a tin of shoe polish in one hand.

It would seem he has journeyed far and beyond the mirror, and sought the great Shoe Cupboard, from which he has won said Shoe Polish, and brings it to me, his Queen Momma, as a token of his love.

Yesterday, he brought me a packet of soup mix.

Khalid is, MashaAllah, walking. And exploring. And helping himself to things like shoe polish and soup mix, and today I found the cordless phone in the cabinet of tupperware that Khalid had, apparently, been making calls from.

SubhanAllah, I thought Khalid (who is trying to climb up the side of the chair I’m sitting in) was a handful BEFORE. He’s been walking, technically, for about a week now, but only now is he confident enough in his abilities to go on great Quests- like Up the Hall With an Apple In His Hand, and To the Bathroom to Look Down the Toilet.

The very prospect of trying to baby-proof this house is enough to make me dizzy- how do you baby-proof a toilet? Ok, we can install those latches that keep the kitchen cabinets closed- but how do I keep him from trying to get into the garbage can? At the moment, I keep the garbage can under a chair and let little bits (like potato peels and food packaging) pile up in a bowl on the counter until I’m ready to retrieve the garbage can from its sanctuary and dump it all in one go.

Hmm, Khalid is in the shoe cupboard again.

(also, it’s 3 am)

But how can I cordon off the washing machine without hampering my ability to do laundry?

(get it? hamper? laundry? HA!)

I digress. SubhanAllah, it’s hard to explain the pride and wonder of watching Khalid walk- his little baby feet going pat pat pat on the floor and his little hands reaching for the next hand-hold. Now that he has the freedom to chose his own direction, you can see how his mind works. He walks himself over to the window, pats around in the fabric until he finds a way in, and then plays peekaboo with me from behind the curtains. He’s playing peekaboo with me! He has the forethought to

1. Think of peekaboo

(He just walked past me holding his toothbrush)

2. Think of what is required to play
3. Locate curtains
4. Walk towards curtains
5. Find a way inside of curtains
6. Initiate peekaboo

Oh, time to go. Khalid is rubbing his lil eyes and trying to climb into my lap. He may be ready to go back to bed now.

G’nite!

It’s my knee! Yay!

I am such a geek, and I am such a gross one too, that I am going to post the DVD of my knee arthroscopy on my blog. Yep, I am, and I will, once I can get HF to do it for me. Cuz he’s my tech support hero! *heart*

The surgery went well Alhamdulillah, just a few zaps here and a few zaps there to fix damage at the back of my kneecap as well as fuse my miniscus (squishy important bit inside of my knee) back to where it was supposed to be. It was, according to my awesome orthopedic surgeon, “mobile,” which doesn’t surprise me, because in this day and age, what isn’t wireless?

I thought about asking my surgeon to do a few add-ons while he had me under the knife- God knows I need a third arm to wrangle babyface into his diapers these days (he too is mobile) and maybe a built-in mp3 player so my knee could play audio books. Oh and of course, a laser of my own. That way I could have the stealithiest, deadliest knee in the entire world! Haha!

-ahem-

Alhamdulillah, I am feeling much better of late. My knee, which was as flexible as a piece of wood for the first few post-surgical days, is now loosening up. I can bend it about 60%, and am not limping quite so obviously. Which is nice, because it’s a funny thing- when you limp, people stare. And if my Doc had installed that knee laser then I wouldn’t mind, but he didn’t, so I’m glad to be hobbling a little more smoothly.

My stitches come out the day after tomorrow InshaAllah, and I’m really excited about walking, sitting, praying without pain. One day, I too will be mobile. InshaAllah. 🙂

Next up: Arthroscopy video InshaAllah
Followed by: Hijab Questions, finally!

A week, I need another week to wrap a few projects up, and then I can sit down and properly blog. But in the time, how about some blogletts?

A brief update: Bebeface is taking his first wobbly steps on his own, and his fantastic new mobility means dire things for my paper lamp, the crystal in the living room, and edible-looking dustbunnies everywhere.

SubhanAllah: I visited the chateau (my parents’ apt)a few days ago, and was playing idly in the living room when I heard the sound of the azhan coming through the balcony doors. It sounded strangely familiar. It sounded like my father.

It was my father, MashaAllah, calling the azhan from the masjid up the street.

Freelancing: Has moved in to an interesting new direction, where previous jobs involved graphic design, or editing, or creating content, this new job combines all three, and I get to use an awesome program called Articulate, which apparently only ubergeeks like HF and I find cool and exciting. Articulate is a software for turning Powerpoint presentations into flash-based presentations, with interesting interactive options. Right now I’m designing courses for an online academy, as well as their hand-outs, a few logos here and there- it’s enjoyable work, and it pays well Alhamdulillah.

On the down side, I have to get everything done while Bebeface snoozes, and lately, he hasn’t been doing very much of it. His sleeping schedule has taken an odd new twist, now he wants to sleep 8 hours a night instead of the 12 before, so we’re trying to adjust his nap times and waking hours accordingly.

Things are going well, Alhamdulillah, and I’ve been trying to keep my Fridays as work-free days. Yesterday HF and I went out to Ibn Battuta Mall, wandered around the shops, munched on Chinese, Mexican, AND Shawarma in one evening, and got to meet up with some friends from Abu Dhabi for a lovely time out.

Update: Bring on the lasers! A doc’s visit this evening has revealed that I have torn the miniscus (sp?) in my knee, which is apparently an important little blob of cartilage shaped like a black bow tie (that’s what the doc said) and I’m scheduled for LASER SURGERY (zap!) this 28th, InshaAllah. Please make dua everything goes well and I recover fast, bebeface is reaching new and death-defying levels of mischief with the newfound mobility, and in order to keep up I’ve got to move pretty fast.

Peace & Handi Grease!
-Abez

It is fitting that this ultra-brief recap of Chai’s layover in the UAE be typed when I am sleepy- Chai had no less than two naps in the same afternoon, and consumed no less than a thousand jellybeans and defeated us in Scrabble by no less than a million points.

And we shopped, but we forgot to eat ice cream, and we stuffed ourselves silly at Fuddrucker’s- a place I had never been to and am uncertain of how to spell. We had burgers. They were Good. I did not have enough room to sigh by the time I was done trying to accommodate 1/3 pound of burger (it was the smallest size, really!) in my stomach, part of my spleen, and two-thirds of my left lung.

Ok that’s sort of gross, but the burger was really good, and that’s a compliment coming from me- my response to eating American food out is never overly enthusiastic. I’ll have a nice time, but I’ll decide that I can make the same thing at home for nothing (using only a small aubergine).

I digress. Chai is as crazily wonderful as usual, and there was much rejoicing, and much sleep deprivation as her flight arrived at 5:50 am and then departed less than 24 hours later at 2:45 am.

She’s flown away again, that crazy international bird, and we look forward to a whirlwind jellybean festival again soon, InshaAllah.

And speaking of jellybeans, my son is finally asleep. It’s past 2 am now. His Momma is tired, and his Momma is mentally arrrgh about the prospect of another day of busy-ness tomorrow. I’m working on basically the biggest, coolest freelance project I’ve had to date, the coolest part being that it pays in US dollars- possibly with three zeros on the end, w00t! But it’s ALOT of hard work, and I spend my waking hours taking care of Khalid and Khalid’s sleeping hours (as well as some of my own) taking care of work. Had Khalid been a good bebesaurus and gone to sleep at his normal 11 instead of tonight’s 2, then I could have gotten two hours of work in before slinking in to bed next to HF, who’s been snoozing since the jealously reasonable hour of midnight. Alas.

SubhanAllah, life is busy, sleep is precious, and the bed is calling my name.

Know what I mean, jellybean?

Oh wait, that’s my son…

Khalid had his first hair cut yesterday, and in a process that resembled a temper-tantrum with a beard-trimmer, he cried, raged, and fussed his way to a snappier, more grown-up ‘do. Short on the sides, longer on top, his crazy silly over-the-ear curls have been replaced with neat number-one sideburns. SubhanAllah, he’s looking more like a little boy than a little baby anymore, and he looks dashing, but I also miss his cute widdle curls. *pout*

Khalid’s sleep schedule has reverted to nocturnal madness again for the past few days, and he went to bed just half an hour ago (it’s 1:36 am right now). And he’s in my spot, and he’s taking up half the dang bed like a star-fish in blue pajamas, hmmph.

🙂

Other miscellania- My appointment with the ortho confirmed damaged ligaments on the inside of my right knee, and I have an MRI scheduled to determine whether things can be patched up with physiotherapy or whether I’ll need laser surgery. Once upon a time, in the pursuit of all things neato, I would have eagerly hoped for something like ‘LASER SURGERY!!!’ mostly because it sounds dramatic, and partially because it involves lasers. Now, Abez the Momma is hoping for boring old physiotherapy, because if my knee is put out of commission by surgery, then caring for Bebeface is going to be a serious challenge, and if I over-do things, I might further damage my poor busticated knee rather than let it heal.

SubhanAllah for your health, and the blessing of just being able to walk without pain. I’m looking forward to that again InshaAllah. Please remember me in your duas!

This guy- Ali, he does video blogs, and if you miss these, you’re missing the funniest thing to hit the Muslim media, possibly ever.

Props to Ali, you guys gotta see this.

It’s a little odd for me, praying in public places, because I stand up for qiyaam and ruku, but I need a chair for sujjood. The ligaments in my right knee have been painfully troublesome ever since the accident in October, and if I pray sitting on the ground, my knee hurts so bad I have a hard time walking. I’ve been to a variety of orthopedic surgeons, each of which have prescribed me progressively bigger and bigger knee braces- the most recent one being a ‘hinged knee brace’ with enough padding, gears and velcro to make me look like a cross between a football player and a cyborg. It went from my calf to half-way up my thigh in all its immobilizational glory, and after trying it on over my pants (because there was no way it could fit inside) and feeling no better and no more immobilized than the previous brace, I decided to pass.

So I have another date with another Ortho, who will hopefully prescribe me something other than yet another brace, but in the mean time, half of my prayer is in a chair. And I know it must seem odd, a perfectly healthy-looking, Alhamdulillah, young, non-limping, non-pregnant woman walks into a masjid and pulls up a chair. The chairs are usually reserved for those who are old or extremely pregnant, and me being neither, sometimes people stare.

Sometimes, they turn around and stare alot. Last week, a woman sitting on the ground near me, who had finished her prayer, kept trying to look up into my face as if to ask, “What’s your excuse?” Needless to say, that really makes concentrating on prayer difficult. Sometimes I wonder if I should have gotten the Cyborg Football Player From Outer Space leg brace just to make things obvious. Or maybe I should be paying more attention to my prayer. Heh

We interrupt this lack of updating to welcome baby H, the long-awaited conclusion to Mona’s Baby Story blog. If you haven’t been reading it, you’ve missed out on a sweet and funny account of Mona’s pregnancy, and very soon, H’s birth.

I’ve not spoken to Mona yet (as she was slightly unavailable) but did speak to her husband who sounded breathless with happiness and called his new daughter a “perfect little doll.” HF, who also spoke to Mona’s husband, asked me, “Was I that bad?”

I thought back to the first hazy hour after Khalid was born, and I remembered seeing HF hold Khalid for the first time; carefully in both of his hands and staring at him with watery eyes and a tender smile on his face. Even now, when Khalid is asleep and his cherubic pink cheeks are looking especially perfect and SubhanAllah beautiful, I again see that look on HF’s face as he touches Khalid’s cheek and whispers, “Mera beta…” (My son…)

Mona and her husband ZMan are in for quite an experience, they are going to fall in love with a tiny baby whose every coo and wiggle will become the axis upon which their world turns. They will be bursting with the urge to share how beautiful her every finger toe eyelash movement is, and they will refer to their novelty-sized human as perfect, amazing, gorgeous.

They will call her their little doll.

Such is parenthood.

Yes HF, you are that bad. We both are. And I’m sure people without children must get sick of hearing about the overwhelming splendor of Khalid’s little hands or the fantastic accuracy of his peeing abilities, but it is a blessing from Allah that he causes us to fall so head-over heels in love with our children. It makes the sleep deprivation, 24/7/365 work, and loss of social life seem like the tiniest little sacrifice.

Mona, ZMan, welcome to the club. Little Doll, welcome to the world. 🙂

This post is dedicated to the smiling musical snail, who ambushed me while I was trying to tiptoe away from Khalid as he napped- it leapt out in front of me (pretty quickly for a snail I might add) so that I struck it with my toe, triggering the flashing lights and the Row Row Row Your Boat that woke Khalid up.

Grrraaaah

Alhadulillah though, I think Khalid’s sleep schedule is ironing out. If I wake him up at 10, I can get him to sleep by 11pm. He still wakes up 3-4 times a night, but SubhanAllah, at least he’s sleeping!

Gtg, have freelance work to finish, five posters, one proposal, and one overdue invoice.

Peace and Musical Snail Grease!

We’re playing the sleep deprivation game again. Today I woke Khalid up at 10 am, rather early considering his bedtimes for the last week and a half have been around Fajr. And I feel all wobbly and tired, but gosh darnit we are not staying nocturnal!

-zonk-

I need a new layout! *pout*

I made Baji a new layout, and I made Ushi a new layout, and if anyone else wants a new layout, I will make you one for a random cash amount if I ever set my paypal up… but who will make me a new layout?

This one’s not bad, it’s just not… me.

It’s 3 am, and I will write a real update later. Really. I promise.

*zonk* -falls out of chair-

Blog: A work in progress.

Bebe: Anti-sleep as usual, but also outputting cuteness at such intense levels as to nearly counter my sleep deprivation.

Life: Alhamdulillah, Good. 🙂

Work: Yes! I actually have enough projects coming my way that I can choose which ones I want to do; SubhanAllah, what a luxury!

HF: MIA: Spending more time in traffic for work than at home, I miss HF. 🙁

That’s all folks! Real update coming soon to a blog near you.

Well, actually, she didn’t, but that’s ok. Momma equipped me with resourcefulness as well as coping skills, so the fact that Khalid is wide awake and drumming his heels against his high chair doesn’t phase me much. Because I’m eating icecream. Five minutes ago though, it was getting to me quite alot, as I was well into hour number two of trying to put Khalid to sleep.

A note on bebeface- he bites, he kicks, he rages, and worst of all- he pinches.

Last night we went to bed at 4 am, and today had a very, very long day. Khalid was grouchy and had multiple small naps to fuel his angry little engine. I’ve been nauseated with exhaustion as well as insanely busy. And we drove to Abu Dhabi and back, too, which from where we live is nearly a 3 hour road trip. So I’m tired. Bebeface is tired. I don’t know about his logical processes, but mine are bordering on irrational. Well, they were until I had icecream. I was ready to put Khalid on the carpeted floor and walk away when I remembered that HF, who can sleep through alot, but not a full-on Khalid tantrum- has to wake up in three hours and go to work. So Khalid and I are here in the kitchen, he’s waving a rice-cracker around. I’m eating icecream. We both seem happy for the break.

His sleep schedule is nuts as usual. I’m on break from trying anything new. I’m just trying to catch whatever ZZZ’s I can, in whatever increments Khalid will let me. Speaking of whom, he is out of cracker and needs refill…

So things have been a little frustrating lately, and I find myself joining Khalid for his afternoon nap- lying in bed with him to feed him every 40 minutes as well as get some sleep myself.

ah, now he’s rubbing cracker crumbs into his eyebrows, which generally means he’s tired. time to go try again.

Well, last night was a mixture of both failure and success- Khalid cried for over an hour, and when I went to check on him (as I had been doing every fifteen minutes or so) I found him lying on the floor again- hands cold, feet cold, face cold, shuddering and whimpering. So I threw in the towel, wrapped him up and nursed him to sleep.

Then I emailed HF (who is on a business trip, for those of you who asked in last entry’s comments) and told him I was giving up and I feel miserable. Then I went to bed. And Khalid slept for 7 hours. Again, I woke up before he did, and was so surprised at the time- 6:30 am, that I had to go check on him. My sleepy brain was terrified and sure that he was dead. I know that sounds horrible and morbid, but I was on the verge of crying when I knelt down to see if he was still breathing. Which, Alhamdulillah, he still was, and I think my sleeping brain is nuts.

I don’t know what I’m doing tonight. These past four nights, Khalid has slept for long and longer stretches, Alhamdulillah, but I’ve only managed to stick the crying out twice. Twice I’ve caved, twice I’ve stayed firm. One of the times I caved he only slept for two hours, the second time (last night) he slept for seven. I’m not sure what it is about crying it out that makes him sleep better- is it the exhaustion of bawling for an hour? If so, then how come on night two, when I let him bawl for an hour before rescuing him, he only slept for two hours? And then on night three, he only cried for 45 minutes but he slept for five hours.

I’m not sure what to make of things, and tonight will be night five, InshaAllah. Tonight may also be back at home, where I can put Khalid in his crib and not have to worry about him ending up on the floor. He does wiggle about and get his feet stuck in the bars, but that’s pretty minor. I think if I put some rolled blankets on the side it’ll minimize his wiggling and protect him from getting stuck as well InshaAllah.

HF will be back tomorrow InshaAllah, and that’s such a relief for me. Him being on a business trip is always lonely, but this time has been especially hard w/the tension of the nightly crying game. It’s amazing how love takes two perfectly sane, perfectly independent people and then fuses them into one entity that spends time apart yearning for the other half. Next time HF goes on a business trip, Bebeface and I are crawling into his suitcase.

I’m confused.

JazakAllah to everyone for the encouragement. Last night’s missing post was due to technical probs, and a guy from Etisalat had to come over today to fix a wire inside the wall so now we’re up and running again.

Yesterday, before putting Khalid down for his nightly crying session, I set out to build the ultimate baby-contaning fortress so that he couldn’t wiggle out on to the floor again. I’ve ended up with a mattress on the floor, wedged against the side of my mom’s waterbed (I’m staying at the chateau while HF is on a business trip) and bordered on three sides with bolsters which are in turn, reinforced with three chairs.

And yet, even with all that work, Khalid ended up on the floor again last night. I went to check on him after ten min and found him wiggled into a corner of the room. I put him back on the bed and walked out, and I was surprised at how me coming in and soothing him a bit didn’t make him go ballistic again. I thought seeing me would give him typhoon-powered second winds that would prolong the cry-it-to-sleep process, but I think it may actually have made things better.

Either that or Khalid’s learning, but last night only took 45 minutes, Alhamdulillah. It also wasn’t as stressful for me, because, I must shamefully admit- I found a distraction. I have rediscovered XCOM- UFO Defense. I used to be quite a game junkie- I would stay up all night playing things like Command and Conquer, Roller Coaster Tycoon, Civilization, Ages of Empires… Strategy games mostly. And I would play so long my eyeballs would burn because I would forget to blink.

I wasn’t that bad last night, but 45 minutes passed quickly and before I even realized, Khalid had fallen asleep. I’m pretty sure he slept for a long ole time. I’m not sure how long because this time I didn’t wake up repeatedly to see why he hadn’t woken up yet. Alhamdulillah.

Yesterday he missed his afternoon nap though, so I’m wondering if maybe that contributed to him passing out earlier. Today, his afternoon nap got moved down to maghrib- he woke up around 6:20- about half an hour ago. (There’s construction going on across the street and the bang bang bang makes getting Khalid to nap very difficult) So let’s see what happens tonight InshaAllah.

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.

I am reading
Methods of Learning and Evidential Deduction between Sunnites and Heterodixtsts
(Which is far more interesting than the title would lead you to believe)

I am listening to
Blink
(Which is a fantastic book, even in audio format.)

I am looking at
My hovercraft is full of eels.
(Because HF found it and HF rules)

I am taking
Bromelain-POS
(To reduce swelling in the ligament in my knee that hasn’t healed since the accident)

I am eating
Weetabix
(Low-sugar, low-taste, low-thought breakfast option of champions)

I am wearing
Blue Jeans
(because they were clean)

So, what are you up to today? Blurkers, I’m asking you too!

Or at the very least, werkin.

There are four more days until HF returns, and I’ve found that the best way to make time go faster is to attach it to a deadline. See, if I focus on HF’s return alone for the 29th, then time drags its feet and twiddles it thumbs and dawdles all over the dang place. However, if I, say… take a copywriting job on ridiculously short notice that must be completed the 28th, then suddenly time picks its feet up and starts hurdle-jumping over the little lines that divide days in my monthly planner. Because time is annoying like that.

So I’ve picked up the job for the >>Large Hoity-Toity Food Conference Name Here<< that right now involves rewriting their brochures, then their posters, and then their banners, etc. Alhamdulillah for the work. Now if only I could get Bebeface to agree with the schedule. See, if I could get him to change his own diaper, then I could finish this paragraph and be done with the page. However, according to the Babycenter.com calendar of developmental milestones, Khalid is a long way off from that, so far off, in fact, that it's not even mentioned on the Year One page. Maybe it's on Year Two? Developmental milestones are annoying like that. Off we go, Bebeface Beckons.

Me: Waleed, – (mumble mumble mumble) –

HF: What? I can’t hear what you said so I’m just going to make something up. No Abez, I don‘t believe you can talk to dolphins.

Me: Oh boy…

😀

And apparently it enjoys playing with Bebeface’s toys

We interrupt this Ramadan introspection with a late-breaking Husbandfile.

Me: We need to do something about the front gate, there’s no way to see behind it when somone rings the bell. I could be opening the door for anyone. We need to put one of those little peep-hole thingies in.

HF: No, all we need is some electrical wiring and a switch.

Me: Oh? (For a security camera? she wonders)

HF: We could run the wire under the gate and plug one end into a socket and leave one end on the ground outside.

Me: Ok.

HF: And when someone rings the bell, you go outside and turn the power on.

Me: Then what?

HF: Then when they get electrocuted you identify them by the sound of their screaming.

Hey hey! I’m here! And I’m donut powered! Props to Owlie and blueberry cake donuts!

I’m feeling much better than I have in a long ole while- the move was chaotically busy as well as physically taxing. Bebeface of course realized that we were moving, so he decided to work harder- at being demanding. I have never tried to move while also minding a bebe. It’s Difficult. I capitalized that D on purpose.

And then the day before yesterday I gave myself minor food poisoning. I call it Chicken Fingers. It’s what happens when you cut and prepare chicken and the germs get on your fingers and somehow your fingers transfer the germs to your stomach, which then goes into a state of violent political upheaval and nationwide strike to protest the incursion of foreign elements.

I was in bed all day except for when I was in the bathroom. I woke up the next morning feeling miserable and desperate and worse, so I reached into my bedside table drawer, found a blister pack of amoxicillin left over from my wisdom tooth removal and popped one in my mouth. Yes, all of my doctor friends will scold me for dosing myself with antibiotics, and HF pulled my ear and glared at me, and yes, amoxicillin is typically for ENT and uncomplicated skin infections, but it’s also sometimes used to treat stomach ulcers caused by the baceria H. Pylori, so I figured that its presence in my politically unstable stomach couldn’t go completely unnoticed. Then I went back to sleep for another six hours.

And woke up feeling like a newer, less toxic man. And today I moved some boxes around, finished up a design project, found out I have another one lined up (Alhamdulillah!) and met Owlie for donuts at the City Center. And now I have thawts! As well as the ability to keep food down! SubhanAllah, health is such a blessing!

Bebeface is six months old now, and I don’t know where the time went. Honestly. One day he’s this little pink blob, the next he’s a big, chubby, heavy, cooing, impossibly cute bundle of giggles and spitbubbles and cramming of slobbery fingers into my mouth. His mouth too, but he’s realized that I have a mouth and it’s a great place to hold on. He calls for attention and then revels in it, he bounces himself u and down in laps, and even bestows slobbery bebe-kisses on me. Only one other person has been honored with a bebe-kiss, and that’s Lil Grey. Khalid’s version of a kiss is to smile and then grab you by the face with both hands, and then press his mouth into your cheek. And it makes him exceedingly happy. It’s not a ‘Hi mom, lemme suck on your cheek,’ it’s definitely a kiss, and it’s definitely reserved for when he’s happy and content.

And then when he’s not happy there’s the ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma of ‘momma, help!’ or the bbbbbb of the self-defense raspberry. A good indicator of whether Khalid’s nose is being cleaned is whether he’s blowing raspberries- when I poke a q-tip up there he frowns and goes BBBBBBB with such force that if the q-tip were in his mouth it would have been shot across the room.

And then there’s the singing- Khalid sings. He does opera, mostly. He fills the new halls with aaaaaahs and oooohs and waaa waaa waaaas that he enjoys immensely. He experiments with volume, he smiles, and out of his gummy, wet mouth comes an ear-shattering EEEEEEE that might be B-minor, or more likely, EEEEE-major. hehe. My son could shatter glass.

Also, he could probably eat whole chickens. Well, he would if he knew what they were. MashaAllah, Khalid is in the 95th percentile for his height and weight, which means that’s he’s bigger than 95 percent of other kids his age. Which, for me, means an aching back, but muscle definition on my arms comparable to when I used to lift weights, and for Khalid, it means comments from guests like, “Whoa, Olympic sized!” and Hbiddy‘s hysterical “Oh my God, that baby is huge!”

(Also, “What an adorable one year old!”)

You know, it’s interesting seeing how people who haven’t been around babies react to Bebeface. I’ve heard questions that immediately mark the questioner as complete baby-amateur, like “Wow, he’s 3/4th Pakistani and 1/4th white, so what does he call you?”

(Well, he’s four months old, so he mostly just calls me waaaanh.)

“Cute kid, so what language does he speak?”

(He’s a baby, he speaks all languages and they all sound like crying.)

And then there are the exciting babysitting tactics from people who have never babysat before. A group of family friends (we shall call them ‘The Four A’s) consisting of three very cool dudes and one very cool chick were left to their own devices with Khalid for all of ten minutes. I returned to find the baby strangely quiet. The dudes were sticking small balls of tape onto Khalid’s hands, feet and clothing. Khalid thought the crinkly sounds were fantastic. I give that new game a nine out of ten, and it loses one point only for not taping Khalid’s arms and legs to each other.

So yeah, Bebeface rocks, but I currently stink. I am a Ramadan nothing this year. But I’ll blog about that next time. It’s 11:50 right now and Bebeface has just gone to sleep. I’m going to run and do grown-up things like wash my face and maybe reply to my email.

Peace & Chikken Grease! And Ramadan Kareem!