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  • 16 Things You Never Wanted to Know, but too bad. So There.

    1. I have a hard time filling out these ‘Random Things About Me’ lists. Even now I’m very self conscious about what I type here. Half of the time I worry about being shamelessly self-aggrandizing, the other half I worry that being normal may be seen as a deliberate attempt to be ‘lookit me, I’m so righteously humble.’ Apparently,

    2. I over analyze. Or perhaps, I’m guilty of exposing myself by the lens through which I fear being seen.

    3. I’m worried about being seen as arrogant or fake. One then wonders, is that because I am either

    4. Secretly very arrogant or

    5. Secretly very fake? I hope that I am neither, but I recognize that my personality harbors elements of both. Compare this to being told that:

    6. I channel pre-school teacher. Someone I love told me that once, and I was hurt by that. I wasn’t sure why, I just knew that was an incorrect analysis of what I was, and realizing the incongruence between my inside (Abez Soup) and my outside (Preschool Teacher?) made me feel incredibly artificial.

    7. I hate pretending.

    8. I’m wondering where I’m going with this, and whether I’m exposing way too much of myself instead of just filling out sixteen silly things like

    9. I once met Morgan Freeman and

    10. I own silver sneakers.

    Pretending is a kid in camo pants. Being is a soldier in camo. My preschool teacher exterior is not the candy coating, it’s the work of years of nafs-beating, lip-biting, hard-earned restraint. 11. I am not pretending to be nicer than I am, I am being nicer than I want to be, given that I am

    12. Impatient

    13. Self-Righteous and

    14. Naturally inclined to vengeance. My façade is not to keep the light of prying eyes out, it’s to keep the darkness restrained within.

    I think I’ve lost direction on this. Also, this may be way more than anyone has ever wanted to know about me. (So, did I tell you about my sneakers yet?) I think this meme and the preschool teacher comment just happen to come at the same time, and when I sat down to fill out that one silly list, I came up with this silly one instead.

    What’s the moral of this story? You might not want to dismiss “nice people” you meet as being one-dimensionally Good, any more than you should be absolutely certain that patch of leaves isn’t a commando.

    15. I talk too much.

    16. I rearrange the furniture every time HF goes on a bidness trip. Where’s your sofa now, HA!

  • Time again, for another 2 am post.

    HF is en route to Australia for a bidness trip, and we, The Circus, are left to our own devices for this week. Apparently our devices involve rolling around the floor sucking on building blocks. Well, those are Iman’s devices anyway. She’s the reason I’m up cooking instead of down snoring- I woke up at 12:46 to giggling and pulling of the strings on my hoodie, which, in addition to fist-sucking and foot-waving, is Iman’s way of letting me know she’s fully charged and ready to party.

    So here we are, it’s a party.

    (Wave your feet in the air like you just don’t care?)

    Khalid began ABA therapy last week at the autism center in Dubai, Alhamdulillah, and it’s amazing to see him already picking up the things he’s refusing to learn there. :p Khalid will resist instructions to clap his hands until we’ve used up every tissue in the box and he’s blue in the face from crying, but he will go home at the end of the day and furtively clap his hands in a corner. The therapists have told us that they can see he is intelligent, but he has compliance issues. In other words, he will refuse to do something solely because you asked him to. That makes sense, after all, the motto Khalid seems to live by is ‘You and What Army?’

    Alhamdulillah, he has made progress though, because he’s starting to realize that no matter how hard he fights, he won’t be released from that crazy place where he’s made to stack blocks against his will. Poor baby.

    Iman is learning things too. Just this week, she’s started a precurser to crawling- the commando-wiggle. I’m sure it has a real name, it’s that thing you do under barb-wire on your elbows while pinned down by enemy fire. Whatever it’s called, she used it just now to wiggle under the desk and start pulling my pant leg. Two days ago, she used it to get to my feet and diligently suck my toe, thereby entering the record books for ‘Most Adorable Distraction During Prayer By A Baby Ever.’

    Well, Iman is rubbing her eyes and wriggling unhappily, so I think maybe the party is over. Let me whisk her off to bed. Khalid and I have to hit the road at 9:30 am to get to his therapy on time.

    Peace & Tarka Grease!
    -The Circus

  • Word.

    My crazy ridiculous non-verbal son (that would be Khalid) finally has an ID necklace, and because I have failed to located a medical-alert vendor in this country, he’s wearing dog tags. And because the chain we hang them on has to be sturdy enough to survive his annoyed attempts to remove it, he’s wearing some seriously chunky-looking bling.

    Ah, my lil gangsta…

    So Khalid’s tags have his name, his nationality, AUTISTIC written in capital letters, and both HF’s and my phone numbers engraved on them. I must say, he actually looks really cool. I’ll see if I can post a pic.

  • Ask me why I’m throwing my tupperware away.

    Poisonous plastic

    By Kim O’Hare

    A move by the Canadian government in late April has caught the attention of health conscious people around the world. Canada announced its intention to ban the import, sale and advertising of baby bottles with the controversial chemical bisphenol A (BPA). That could be just the tip of the iceberg, since the chemical is widely used in many food containers ranging from plastic drink bottles to food storage containers.

    UAEasy.com pictureThe proposal marks the beginning of a mandatory 60-day consultation period. The announcement comes after a lengthy review of the chemical under the government’s Chemicals Management Plan. Recent research has shown that bisphenol A is an estrogenic hormone disrupter that causes reproductive damage and may lead to prostate and breast cancer in adulthood. Babies are particularly vulnerable, since most traditional plastic baby bottles leach bisphenol A into the milk they drink.

    “Although our science tells us that exposure levels to newborns and infants are below the level that cause effects, we believe that the current safety margin needs to be higher. We have concluded that it is better to be safe than sorry,” said a government release.

    While the proposed ban does not include sale, import and advertising of water bottles and other food containers, major retailers across the country were pulling plastic drink containers containing BPA off store shelves within hours of the announcement. Retailers say demand for baby products with the controversial chemical come to an abrupt halt.

    Depending on whom you talk to, BPA is either perfectly safe or a dangerous health risk. The plastics industry says it is harmless, but a growing number of scientists are concluding, from some animal tests, that exposure to BPA in the womb raises the risk of certain cancers, hampers fertility and could contribute to childhood behavioural problems such as hyperactivity.

    According to its critics, BPA mimics naturally occurring estrogen, a hormone that is part of the endocrine system, the body’s finely tuned messaging service. “These hormones control the development of the brain, the reproductive system and many other systems in the developing foetus,” says Frederick vom Saal, Ph.D., a developmental biologist at the University of Missouri. Endocrine-disrupting chemicals can duplicate, block or exaggerate hormonal responses. “The most harm is to the unborn or newborn child,” vom Saal says.

    BPA is not some new kid on the chemical block. It was first discovered in the 19th century and concerns about health risks were first raised in the 1930’s. It was thrust into the spotlight by a laboratory mishap in August 1998. An American geneticist noticed chromosomal errors in the mouse cells she was studying had shot up – from one or two percent to 40 percent. She traced the effect to polycarbonate cages and water bottles that had been washed with a harsh detergent. When her team replaced all the caging materials with non-polycarbonate plastics, the cell division returned to normal.

    UAEasy.com pictureConcern over bisphenol is likely to spread due to its wide use. If you consume canned soups, beans and soft drinks (organic or not) you may be swallowing residues of BPA that can leak out of the tin linings into your food. Nearly all tin can liners contain BPA, says the Can Manufacturers Institute.

    Part of the problem lies in the chemical’s tenacious behaviour. BPA has been found to leach from bottles into babies’ milk or formula; it migrates from tin liners into foods and soda and from epoxy resin-lined vats into wine; and it is found in the mouths of people who’ve recently had their teeth sealed. Ninety-five percent of Americans were found to have the chemical in their urine in a 2004 biomonitoring study by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC).

    If you own polycarbonate bottles, including those hard plastic refillable bottles that have become so popular in recent years, Check the bottom for a number #7 inside the recycling symbol. If you have a bottle like that, wash it by hand, away from the extreme heat and harsh cleansers of a dishwasher, to avoid degrading the plastic and increasing leaching of BPA.

    Look for cracks or cloudiness on your reusable clear plastic bottles. Use glass baby bottles or plastic bag inserts, which are made of polyethylene, or switch to polypropylene bottles that are labelled #5 and come in colours or are milky rather than clear. Choose soups, milk and soy milk packaged in cardboard “brick” cartons, by Tetra Pak and SIG Combibloc, which are made of safer layers of aluminium and polyethylene (#2) and also recyclable.

    Eat fresh foods in season and save the canned foods for convenience or emergencies. The exception is some canned fruit such as that found in smaller fruit-cocktail cans, which do not require a liner, according to the Can Manufacturers Institute. Some wines have been found to contain up to six times the BPA of canned foods. While most wines probably don’t, it’s another good reason to drink in moderation.

    There are seven classes of plastics used worldwide in packaging applications. Type 7 is the catch-all “other” class, and some type 7 plastics, such as polycarbonate (sometimes identified with the letters “PC” near the recycling symbol) and epoxy resins, are made from bisphenol A monomer. When such plastics are exposed to hot liquids, bisphenol A leaches out 55 times faster than it does under normal conditions,

    Types 2, 4, and 5 are believed to not leach chemicals in any significant amount. Type 1 and Type 6 have unreacted phthalates and styrene, respectively, which could leach under certain conditions, but these resins do not use bisphenol A during polymerization and package forming.

    ***

    CANADA ACTS — First nation to ban BPA
    Government protecting citizens from harmful chemicals

    Anthony Kovats
    Monday October 27, 2008
    The act is groundbreaking and once again places Canada at the forefront of progressive thinking.
    Just days after the last ballot was cast in the 40th federal election, the Tory minority government has jumped into the international spotlight by being the first nation banning the use of bisphenol A (BPA), the controversial plastic used in popular water and baby bottles and as a liner in food tins.

    The announcement, made over the Oct 17 weekend, has been on the government agenda for the better part of a year and is now a reality — BPA is on Canada’s toxic substances list.
    “With our chemical management plan that we’ve put in place, this is one of 16 chemicals or substances we have tried to reduce or eliminate,” said Wetaskiwin MP Blaine Calkins.
    “Canada is taking a leadership role when it comes to eliminating these products from our environment, especially in situations where it can harmful to our young children.”
    BPA is a chemical used in the manufacturing of a diverse range of plastic consumer products ranging from beverage containers, dental sealants and even car interiors.
    There is yet to be any definitive agreement among scientists on how much BPA exposure is safe for humans, but the consensus is that BPA does pose a health risk.

    Federal Health Minister Tony Clement announced six months ago that Canada would become the first country to label BPA a dangerous substance and ban its use in baby bottles.
    The health minister now has the option to ban the importation, sale and advertising of polycarbonate baby bottles containing BPA.

    The levels of bisphenol A that most Canadian adults are exposed to are not considered harmful, but Canadian and international environmentalists have said studies support the need for a complete ban on the use of BPA in consumer products.

    However, it is still too early to determine how the government will implement this measure or how this will affect industry.

    “Most Canadians understand that we are what we eat and we are a product of our environment and this is a way to improve the health and safety of all Canadians,” Calkins said.

    In Great Britain, researchers discovered in a study of approximately 1,500 people, that those diagnosed with heart disease or diabetes had higher concentrations of BPA in their urine.
    And other studies have found that BPA leached out of the linings of cans heated to temperatures similar to those used during sterilization processes.

    It has also been recently discovered that BPA interferes with brain processes involved in learning and understanding and may cause infertility and obesity in mice.
    Canada’s decision to declare BPA a toxic substance is being seen as proactive, but Calkins added it is what Canadians should expect from government.

    Cognizant of the potential effects this can have on the public all the way to landfill management; Calkins believes this is just another example of the country’s proactive measures when dealing with the overall health of the nation. We are able to take this chemical out of the environment.”

  • Recipe: Cream of 3am Soup

    • One suddenly awake, insanely cheerful baby
    • Two small onions, finely chopped
    • 4 cloves garlic, crushed or minced
    • One baby-bouncer
    • One rubber Spatula
    • 1/3 cup butter
    • 3-4 cups chicken stock (or water & 2 chicken cubes)
    • Frozen mixed veggies
    • 2 cups finely chopped chicken breast
    • 4 cups milk

    Combine baby and baby-bouncer, set aside. In a medium soup pot, saute onion and garlic until onions are golden brown.

    Entertain baby with rubber spatula and periodic tickling. Add chicken breast to sauteed onions and cook over medium heat with:

    • 1tsp sage
    • 1tsp dried dill
    • 1/2 tsp black pepper
    • 1 tsp salt

    When the chicken is cooked, add chicken stock and frozen mixed veggies. Allow to boil for 15-20 min because frozen mixed veggies can be tough little suckers. Sing to baby, ward off drowsiness, mix 1/2 cup flour in 1 cup cold water. Dissolve flour well (else, suffer from lumpy soup) and add to pot. When the flour thickens, take the baby out of the bouncer (because she’s getting kind of cranky now) and add 3 cups milk to the mixture. Bring to boil and allow soup to thicken. (5 min, max).

    Dance around kitchen with baby in arms, add salt to taste.

  • T’was the night before Wednesday and all through the house…

    It’s 2:12 in the ay-em, and Iman is finally asleep. Me, I think I’m pulled back together now. 🙂 For a while I was feeling like a Jenga tower when you’ve pulled too many of the bits out of the bottom and tried stacking them on top, but I’m feeling better.

    Also, I think Iman deserves a post. She’s been shuffled to the sidelines by her Prima Donna brother on the blog, which is fitting, since that’s what tends to happen in real life too, but that’s a post for tomorrow maybe. Right now, I just want to crawl into bed behind HF and fall happily asleep.

    🙂

  • You guys…

    If I’m not responding to my comments it’s because I feel… embarrassed.

    I am not brave, I am not strong, I am not amazing.

    I alternate between insane optimism and resigned dread.

    I am not the Super-Mom of a Special-Needs Child, I am the “So, how do we cope today?” type.

    I am pushing forward because the only way out is through.

    Still. It’s warm and fuzzy to feel believed in though.

    🙂

  • The Autism Post, Take One

    I’ve tried to sit down and write about this several times, but I keep hitting a wall. I’ve only spoken about it to one or two friends. HF has informed the general rest of them, and me, I don’t want to talk about it. Not because I’m embarrassed, but because I’m emotionally raw. I can touch on it briefly, clinically, lightly, and be ok. But emotionally, I’m avoiding the topic in a way you want to avoid standing beneath a dam suspiciously crisscrossed with duct-tape.

    So we’ll be brief, clinical, light.

    Autism is a brain development disorder that Khalid has. His in-depth assessment begins on Sunday, Insha’Allah. It will take several sessions with the clinical psychologist. After that, we will begin the necessary therapies to help him learn as much as he can and bridge the verbal, social, and physical development gap between him and “normal” children.

    (There’s a lot of duct tape on the dam. A few post-it notes too. Some sad-looking safety pins…)

    Well, at least now we know what’s wrong- why nothing I’ve ever tried to teach Khalid has worked, why everyone and their mother seemed to be waltzing through motherhood while I stumbled, blundered, and tripped my way over “such basic things” as sleeping, talking, shape-sorting, social interaction, potty-training… Grim satisfaction can be had in knowing that hey, when all those things they said should work failed, at least it was for a reason other than my own maternal incompetence.

    (It’s because you spoil him)
    (It’s because you’re babying him)
    (It’s because you’re not being consistent)
    (It’s a matter of will-power)
    (It’s
    because you nursed him too long)
    (It’s
    because you always picked him up when he cried)
    (It’s
    because you are working when you should be paying attention to him)
    (It’s
    basically you)

    __

    Take Two: Well, that thread was going down the negative tubes fast, so I closed the draft and left it alone for the last week. Fast-Forward to today, Wednesday, and Khalid’s assessment is done and we’re waiting for the detailed report upon which the therapy outline will be based.

    Khalid is, as the clinical psychologist said, “definitely autistic,” which dashed my slim hopes of him somehow, someway, not really being autistic. At the same time, I felt relieved to be confirming the problem, because now we’re one step closer to the solution, InshaAllah.

    🙂

    There, I typed a smiley face, and I actually mean it. 🙂

    The Autism therapy center we’ve picked is a bright, colorful, toy-crammed, series of rooms in Dubai where Khalid and I will be spending a few hours a day for therapy. I don’t know how many hours yet, but the average is 20 a week. I’m looking forward to it, and can’t wait to start seeing progress- I feel nervous and happy and excited at the prospect of Khalid talking, or signing, or finally communicating with us in some way.

    What I’m not looking forward to though, is the daily drive from Abu Dhabi down to Dubai, which has already started to play havoc with my knee. My busticated knee is also my driving knee, so I’m scheduled to visit the orthopedic surgeon again (who is by now, a family friend) on the 19th. I think I’m supposed to get Hyalgan injected into my knee again. It’s nature’s WD-40, whee! It’s also kept in a small refrigerator somewhere in the doc’s office, and when he shoots it, cold, into my knee, it’s the weirdest, inside-out kind of feeling.

    Hmm, what else is up. I had a custard apple for the first time in my life today. I understand the ‘custard’ part, since it does have a sweet and vanilla-y flavor. The ‘apple’ part is still off though. In Thailand, the name for the custard apple is the same word for ‘grenade,’ and that would make slightly more sense, if grenades were creamy instead of explosive.

    And in the continuing spirit of randomness, I met a nice employee of a -Large Bookstore Name Here- yesterday whose name was Sugar Rey. I wonder if he thinks women are always hitting on him. (Hey there, Sugar…*heart*)

  • By Zeba, The End.

    Khalid has been diagnosed with autism. I can’t even begin to explain how this feels. We’re still in planning/coping/assessing mode. I just quit my job. Regularly, I cry myself to sleep. I can’t write about this right now. I’m too busy trying to figure it out.

  • When you get old, bits start falling off

    I remember quite clearly the point at which I realized that teeth got worse when you got older. I was eight or nine, and we were still living in our apartment on Elmdale. I had been playing in the bedroom and I’m not sure whether I had come back from the dentist that day or whether it had been a few days before that, but I do know that I had not enjoyed it. I decided then and there, that when I was a grown-up I wasn’t going to tolerate any of this drilling business. I was going to have all my teeth removed in one go and either

    a) wear dentures like Grandma did, or
    b) have new fake teeth screwed into my jaw.

    I’m not sure where I got the idea of fake teeth, but I did know that fake teeth didn’t get cavities and therefore couldn’t be subjected to a drilling.

    Then, as time progressed, other things starting going down hill- I got sick, I got chubby, I passed through the ugly adolescent years and came out on the other side of awkward young adulthood. I got migraines, acne, and a little down the road, my appendix removed. Then I moved into independent adulthood and got stress-induced gastritis, stretch marks, more migraine, and my knee torn up in a car accident. (If you’re looking for me in Dubai, I’m the one with the headache, the limp, and the antacid in my purse. Also, two kids.)

    Through all this, I’ve carried with me a nagging, niggling discontent about the fragile nature of the human body. (I’m supposed to go at least fifty years with this thing, I thought, and it’s falling apart now?) I managed to keep myself out of the realm of ingratitude by reminding myself that God never gave us warranties, but that was a just a bandaid, not a cure to the discontent.

    The good news is, I haven’t started visibly aging yet, so I can’t complain about crow’s feet. The better news is, I’ve had an epiphany, and I think I’ll be ok when the crow’s finally do that rolling hoppity-skip into our world.

    Are you ready for it? The Epiphany? It’s sort of obvious, and I know alot of people will wonder what took me so long and how I managed to not realize this ages ago, but still- it was an epiphany to me, so here it goes:

    Sons of Adam inveigh against [the vicissitudes of] Time, and I am Time, in My hand is the night and the day.

    This is Hadith Qudsi (a hadith where the Prophet, peace be upon him, said that Allah said “…”) that basically takes my malcontent, crumples it into a little ball, and then drop-kicks it across the room. I’m not allowed to complain that my teeth are sagging and my bones are groaning and my bits are falling off because these are the vicissitudes of Time. They aren’t proof of shoddy construction or lack of manufacturer warranty. They’re not a flaw in the system, they are the system at work.

    The ‘ravages of time’ do their part in this world, which would be unfair, if this world was it. Alhamdulillah, it’s not. This is the battle ground, the gauntlet, the litmus test of faith and fortitude, and as such, we do the best we have with what we’ve got. And what we’ve got is designed to fall apart, because that’s part of the test.

    I read this Hadith years ago, and it was filed away without being fully synthesized. Back then, the “Vicissitudes of Time” seemed to be more like the rise and fall of civilizations maybe, or the loss of pristine beauty on earth due to man’s presence, or the crushing erasure of life through natural disasters- and it’s not that these too, don’t fit into the description. It’s just that my limited understanding came to the conclusion that things that tested your faith had to make mountains crumble or ecosystems perish, not just your teeth fall out.

    So yeah. In my tiny soul, in my petty universe, once upon a time, life wasn’t fair because I got migraines and ulcers and had to pray sitting down because my knee was irrevocably damaged.

    But yeah, I’ve had my epiphany. I understand now, Alhamdulillah, that my health is just one of the cards I’ve been dealt by a Just and All-Knowing dealer. It’s part of the game. When we all get up and leave the table, we’ll be on the same terms- there will be no more sickness, no more trials, no more tests to pass. Man will stand alone with nothing but his deeds, his own heart, and his own soul as proof of how well he played the game. Regardless of the cards he was dealt.

    InshaAllah.

  • W00t! W00t! W00t!!!

    The Owl has landed, repeat, the Owl has landed!

    WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

  • 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…

    Photobucket
    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!)