Good to Be Back

It's been a long time since the last post here! My husband and I went for Hajj alhamdulillah and we left the girls with our families. We're now recovering from the exhaustion, the long sequence of plane rides, bus rides, and walking from place to place, and the inevitable Hajjitis--an assortment of super-resistant viral bugs and infections (part of the Hajj package) that have since spread to our kids. There is also wistfulness-once you have experienced being the guest of the Most Merciful, living with no obligations and no appointments except with Him, nothing to fill your hours but prostration, praise, and circling His House, I think you will always ache to return to those few dreamlike days.

Our next big life transition is due with Allah's permission in mid-March. I have plenty of time until then to act pregnant, sore, and hungry after sucking it up and subsisting on apples, processed cheese, and bread for several days at a time. Meanwhile, I have so much to write about, including the sequel to the I Am Flying post for friends awaiting a secret formula to a clean, organized home (more or less). As for Hajj reflections, I think those will come slowly, unworldly memories surfacing now and then. The hajj experience is too enormous to be captured in a few words, a half-hour conversation, or a single essay.

I hope all dear friends and their families are in the best state of health, faith, and happiness. I tried to make dua for many of you by name, and all of you in spirit.

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I'm FLYing

My life is transformed. I dare not breathe too much lest it prove to be just one of my ups, a phase, or some weird hormonal surge. But I’ve been going steady for three weeks, so I can allow some of my exhilaration to escape.

My house is CLEAN! I am getting ORGANIZED! I have a ROUTINE! Alhamdulillah!

Housework has always been this horrible, dreaded noose around my neck, the bane of my marriage and motherhood. It is a mindset--something in my mind feels humiliated and frustrated to have a job description of such menial, boring, and never-ending tasks. My house has been so dirty at times that I won’t even attempt to describe it out of embarrassment. Let’s just say if you dropped by for an unexpected visit, I might have put a plastic bag over your head before walked in. The guilt, depression, and listlessness that a messy, out-of-control home can create puts a damper on everything, including the quality of time you spend with your kids.

On Friday, when I reach the 28 day mark, I will share this journey with you. I am not exaggerating one bit the impact that this process has had on my home atmosphere, mothering abilities, moods, family, and personal peace of mind.

I called a friend (who is my role model in cleanliness, among many other things) about two weeks into the program to gush my excitement at having a house that is staying clean and getting cleaner by the day. I confided I was worried that maybe I had an overactive thyroid that was cleaning my house instead of me.

I hope my friends who are disorganized, lazy, sloppy perfectionists like me can get some hope out of my experience. A well-oiled, consistently and comfortably clean household (but not spotless) can be ours by following a program that dismantles perfectionist and internal negative attitudes towards housework and helps you build small habits and routines over the course of several weeks. It’s no big effort—between 20 minutes to 90 minutes a day is all it takes.

And I will stop here because I am now sounding like an advertisement.

I pray to Allah that He helps me to maintain my gains, continues to provide my family with a clean, warm, comfortable home, and grants me the sincerity to make all of my actions and habits for His sake. All thanks is to Him.

How to Get Your Kid to Stop Nagging You for Sweets

Moona and Buru know there is a bowl filled with Skittles and Smarties on top of the refrigerator, leftover candy from yesterday in case our neighbors' children came to our door. Today, there is incessant nagging, searching, trying out different stools and chairs to see if they are high enough, and racing to the kitchen, falling over each other, every time they hear the crinkle of a wrapper (and a mom secretly getting her sugar fix).

I need to get these dye-filled, chemically spiked, artificially flavored sugar cubes out of our house somehow. In the meantime, I gave Moona an illuminating lesson on what candy will do to her teeth and her gums if she eats too much of it. She learns well through experience and demonstration, and often becomes a more fervent and disciplined believer than I after a revelation.

"Come, Moona, let's look at what too much candy does to little kid's teeth."

We went on google and searched for images of decaying teeth. Ewwww, I could barely look, and squinted through one eye. Moona was transfixed.

"More, Umee, I want to see more."

So we looked at a few more pictures and talked about how we should only eat a little bit of sugar, and always brush our teeth very well. Moona jumped off my lap and ran to the bathroom. I heard the faucet turn on, and then rigorous brushing.

She came back and asked, "Is there any black on my teeth?"

"No, very white."

"Umee, make sure Buru doesn't eat any candy. You too. No candy for you too."

Score for Healthy, Crunchy Momma-side. Hopefully, Moona's policing will help keep the Junk-Food, Indulgent, Craving side of me in check.

Good Ol' Fashioned Tea Party

There is a lot to be said for simple, old-fashioned play and games. I try, as best as I can, to resist the overwhelming tide (see my post on climbing trees). So many children today are overstimulated in one sense and understimulated in another. A trip to the toy store is like walking through a blaring video arcade. Do you know there is an aisle in Target for virtual pets? Brrrr, shiver.

Anyway, about our tea party. I boiled some peppermint tea and waited for it to cool, trying in the meantime to teach a three-year-old and one-year-old in pajamas how to set the table for a tea party. A tea party is totally Moona's piece of cake; I could tell because the whole time she had this strange, dreamy, kind-of-dopey smile on her lips. Buru, on the other hand, saw it as an opportunity to make a mess and eat sugar with a spoon.

They sipped and stirred, poured and served each other, and I wisely held my tongue when the tea overflowed onto the tablecloth and the sugar spilled on the carpet. The peace lasted maybe seven minutes. Unfortunately, a catfight over the sugar bowl escalated and half of the dishes were swept off the table in a good, ol' fashioned temper tamprum, so all the guests had to go to their rooms to cool down.

But I will definitely be inviting them again soon.