Vocabulary Lessons and Lack of Self-Control

In preparation for "back-to-school," I took the three boys to our family practitioner for full physical exams. We made it as far as the vital signs room before the giggling began.

Nurse:  Any surgeries?

     Me:  Testicular varicosele removed earlier this year.

Nurse:  Varico-who?

    Me:  Varicosele. V-a-r-i-c-o-s-e-l-e.

Nurse:  And that's like a varicose vein?

     Me:  Yes, in the testicle.

**Begin giggling behind me that builds to hog snorting and then blatant guffawing.**

To her credit, the nurse was Mexican-American with a very heavy accent and most of the practice services the Hispanic community here, so most of the time she speaks in Spanish.  But she seemed embarrassed enough and rushed through the rest of the height, weight, blood pressure and temperature readings to hurry the out-of-control pubescent lunatics into the exam room and out of her hair.

They were all just fine. The end.

Lumpy Brownish Milk Ain't Half-Bad in Coffee

Shuffling into the kitchen at 6:30 in the morning, I tend to do things in a rather rote way:  Grab coffee mug, pour coffee (that is ONLY made because I set it up to go off by itself the night before...GOD bless the inventor of THAT TRULY MOST AWESOME INVENTION EVER!) and then grab the gallon of milk out of the fridge and pour it into the mug, then drink delicious, caffeinated goodness that is my ante meridiem nectar.

Yesterday, I noted to myself that this jug is already at the halfway point and that maybe I need to pick up another gallon before the end of my day. And as I thought this, I began pour the milk into my coffee and it fell into my mug like white stew. "What, WHA????"

me:  "Oh, crap!"

Ismail:  "What?"

me:  "I can't believe this! I just bought this milk yesterday and now I have to return it to the grocery store because it's bad."

Ismail:  "It's not bad."

me:  "Son, it's pouring out in chunks . My coffee looks like it has quark floating in it. OH, THE HUMANITY!"

Ismail (audibly annoyed - remember I hadn't had coffee yet and could barely see past the mug) : "MOMMY! The milk is NOT bad."

me:  "THEN PLEASE EXPLAIN WHY IT IS BROWNISH AND LUMPY????"

Ismail:  "Because Randa squeezed an entire bottle of chocolate syrup into it and then  poked marshmallows through the opening and shook it up."

me:  "Cool. Rocky Road coffee."

Just A Question

Is there something genetically linked in male  DNA that rears its head in puberty that causes boys to drip water all over the bathroom with no ability to dry it up?

Does someone pull them aside in middle school and whisper to them, "While you will still use every clean towel in the closet after your shower and leave them wadded up throughout the house, from now on you will also be required to step onto the bare floor NEXT to the bathmat and  shake violently like a wet dog to ensure that there is more water on the walls, floor, mirror, counter, and ceiling than ever hit the bath tub during your 98 minute shower while the rest of the family was  hopping outside the door in dire need of a  pee."

Thankfully I noticed it BEFORE I slipped and broke my neck. That is all.

6 Days and a Wake Up

Things are rolling along. Managed to sell off the last of the big ticket items and people are coming by and picking up their purchases....at the oddest of hours. BUT....who cares? As long as I have money in hand and they take the stuff with them when they go.

My glasses broke in half (at the bridge of the nose) yesterday and it's hard to deal with life peering through Scotch tape and bent frames. I got an exam last night and ordered my new glasses. Only 24 hours more of headaches and then I'll be fashionably...dorky...again. Okay, so they're not the awesome frames I wanted but I had an 12 yr old and 13 yr old with me who were more interested in trying glasses on themselves than to help me find a pair that doesn't make me look like I'm a new recruit on her first day at boot camp when issued a set of BCG's. (That's Birth Control Goggles, for you civilian folk.)

I've got most of my to-do list, to-done. Just a few more items to tick off before we leave this apartment and spend our last 3 days in Egypt with my husband's brother and family. I'm so excited. A friend mentioned that this would be a bittersweet move, and truthfully it is. On the other hand, I'm READY for a new chapter and this is the right move for us. If it weren't, then things wouldn't be just falling into place the way they are. (Thanks, God.)

Our internet service should be disconnected any second now so I will have to post once we arrive in the US and I come out of the jet-lag coma. Thanks for following our story. I should have mega-stories about the travels. ;)

PANIC

I was having coffee this morning and checking the notifications on my Facebook, when I noticed a status update from a girlfriend who is also moving to Texas soon. She posted that she has only 11 days and a wake-up before she hits the road.  At first I thought, "How exciting for them! They're about to start the next chapter of their lives in a week and a half and we're not too far behind."

Then all of a sudden, about the time that first caffeine boost kicks in, I realized that her timetable is only 4 days ahead of mine.  HOLY ANXIETY ATTACKS, BATMAN! I couldn't think. I got that "someone-just-hit-me-in-the-stomach-with-a-metropolitan-yellow-pages" feeling and my breathing got quick and shallow and my palms got clammy. My chest tightened and I ran to the bathroom.

I have so much to do. My two youngest start final exams this Saturday and Sunday and won't complete them until next Thursday.  I have 2 suitcases and a ton of shopping to do. I still have paintings on the wall and books on the shelves to go through. I have a master bedroom set, a queen-sized mattress, a set of bunk beds, and a wardrobe to sell and 15 days ain't a lot of time to get rid of big-ticket items. I have to meet the landlord next Friday to get back my deposit and I have to have the gas and light bills paid up before then. Still need to cancel the phone and internet service and arrange for the people who bought all of the furniture and appliances to pick up their crap before the 28th of the month. THEN I get to move all these (still not packed up) suitcases and kids over to my brother-in-law's house where we can get on their nerves for a final 3 days before riding down to the airport in Cairo to start our trip home.

Crap. I need to confirm the ride to the airport one final time, too.  I'll get right on that after I dig out my English to Arabic dictionary and find out how to say Xanax in Arabic.

Guess What I Got For Mother's Day

NO! I didn't get a razor as a Mother's Day gift.

I did, however, manage to get a shower in semi-hot water with enough time to actually mow BOTH of my legs. HOW did I do this, you may inquire?  It was simple.

I showered before all four of the kids got up. I made sure that the 2 younger ones, who were up before I was had used the toilet before I went in. THEN I made a mad dash for the bathroom and locked the door.

I also made it perfectly clear that I would NOT answer questions through the door about why so-and-so got to play outside before studying yesterday or about where such-and-such is located.

It was pure tepid heaven.

Of course, I had to retire this razor since it had been about 8 or 9 months since I'd shaved.  Oh, well. Also, I no longer have flies trailing me because I washed my hair AND conditioned it. It's going to be a good day.

Happy (U.S. and Australia) Mother's Day to all the Moms, Stepmoms, Grandmoms, Aunts, others who provide for kids.

Parental Win #987

*All names of the innocent ridiculed in this blog post have been left up to your imagination so as not to humiliate anyone by my exploiting their situations for my comedic pleasure.*

Child walks up next to me about an hour ago and grabs his t-shirt and pulls away from his belly and let's go and then all of a sudden begins to cry.

I look over and find he's lifted his t-shirt up exposing a skinny red welt on his belly. I ask, "What happened?"
And he points down to a skinny piece of elastic hanging out of the waistband of his training pants. He had apparently inadvertently grabbed the elastic while pulling his shirt and it snapped back into his skin when he let it go.

"Are you okaaya-HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

"You always laugh when I get hurt!"

"That's not true! I only laugh when you get hurt doing something very weird."

MOTY 2013.....not a snowball's chance in Hell.

Conversations with My Kids - Study!

"Mom! I want a turn on the computer."

     "You had a turn. Leave me alone."

"I want another turn."

     "Uhm, did that whole 'You're grounded from your second turn' thing slip your mind?"

"But I'm BORED!"

     "Do I LOOK like Julie from the Love Boat?"

"What's a love boat?"

     "Never mind."

"But I'm still BORED!"

     "You're still grounded from your second turn today. Go study."

"I don't want to study. Today is Friday. I don't study on Friday."
 
     "You don't really study any other day of the week either."

"Mommy!!!!! Come on. I want my turn back. I don't have anything else to do."

     "Read a book. Draw some pictures. Watch TV. Go to sleep."

"Boring, boring, boring. I'm going to get a job at the cyber cafe."

     "No, you're not."

"Why not?"

     "It smells like smoke in there because the owner is always smoking and won't even turn on the fan."

"So what? If I work there it will be on Friday and Saturday when I don't have school and I will work when he is upstairs eating dinner."

     "I'm considering banning you from going there again. Besides, you can't get a job a month before final
exams and we're moving next month. You need to focus on your studies."

"But I can't work in the States unless I'm 16 and that's another 4 years away! That's a third of my LIFE!"

     "See? You totally own fractions! Go work on geometry."

"You NEVER let me do anything fun."



     

Shiner

Me:  Son, you keep teasing your sister and one of these days she's going to tag you right in the eye.

     He:  Pffft! I don't think so. She knows better.

Me:  Mm-hmmmmm. Keep it up. I'm telling you, she's going to pop you one and make you cry.

     He:  Yeah, right. 

**********Several weeks later, during a power outage when nerves were high after sitting in

the dark for well over an hour*************

He:  Shut up, Randa!

     She:  Ismail, stop it. Don't say 'shut up.'

He:  You're not the boss of me. I said, 'Shut up,' so 'SHUT UP!'

     She:  Ismail! Stop yelling!

He:  Yeah, heifer! SHUT UP!

     She: No, Ismail! SHUT UP.

***SMAK!  HIGH-PITCHED SCREAMING AND WAILING!*****

Me:  Aiman, give me the flash light! Son, what happened?

     He:   She  punched me in the eye! I'm going to kill her!

Me:  Let me look at it. Hmmmm. Remember a few weeks ago when I told you to let her be or she'd pop you?
 
    He:  Yeah?

Me:  Well, consider that eye dotted! 

I Want to Buy a...

Random conversations between me and my kids regarding high-ticket items they want to  purchase:

Aiman: Mom, I think I want to buy a volcano.

     Me: Save your money.

**

Aiman: Mom, I love monster trucks. I think I want one when I learn to drive.

     Me: Save your money.

**

Samiya: Those boots are the coolest. I really need those.

     Me: Save your money.

**

Ismail: I can't decide whether I want to buy a low-rider or a  pick up truck...but I think I'm leaning toward the low-rider.

     Me: Save your money.

**
Anyone detecting a pattern here?

Apples and Their Distance From Trees

"I want my turn on the computer! I want my turn on the computer!"

     "What? Are you 6? Obviously I'M taking a turn on the computer. Just wait."

"I can't wait. It's my turn. It's my turn. Come on! It's my day off!!!!"

     "So when exactly is MY day off? Hmmmm?"

"You have 5 days off a week while we're all at school."

     "You seriously think that?"

"Well, yeah. You get to use the computer all day, every day while we're at school."

     "Who the hell do you think takes you there, takes you home, buys the food, cooks the food, cleans the house, etc?"

"Well, you do. But come on, Mom. It's my weekend. Now let me have my turn before one of the boys steals it from me."

     "I swore I'd never wish this on you like my mother wished it on me. But:  I HOPE YOU HAVE FIVE KIDS JUST LIKE YOU!"

Mid-terms, Classics, and Falling Concrete

Where do I begin?

I have been intermittent at best with posting since the new year began.  I've been incredibly busy.  My two youngest are in the middle of mid-year exams at school and it's been a nightmare for me running one up in the morning to school and hanging out for an hour and a half for him to get out and then running him home, grabbing the girl and running her up to the same school (it's a junior high for girls in the afternoons and an elementary for both sexes in the mornings.) At any rate, our house is a half hour walk from the school and who the hell wants to walk all the way home and have to turn around and walk all the way back just a few minutes later.

So, yeah, waiting really blows. It's exhausting. Probably more exhausting than housecleaning, rug-scrubbing, or jogging (HA! Like I even remember how to do that thanks to the embarrassment that is post-pregnancies incontinence.) I'm making the best of it by sitting in the outdoor cafe catching up on my reading though. I'm nearly done with Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens.  I started reading it a couple of chapters before bed last week and in the last two days I've devoured more than twenty chapters waiting for the kids. I truly love to read the classics.

So, we had a pretty freaky scary incident today. About ten minutes after Samiya and I had passed by the front of our building and come inside, we heard a thunderous boom and I asked, "What the hell was that?"
We heard people on the street making a commotion and ran out to the balcony where we saw that the
vertical wall that edges the roof of our building had crashed down to the street below where we had just been and where our doorman's granddaughters and our neighbor's daughter had been playing. It came fairly close and the neighbor's daughter, age 8, came tearing into the doorman's apartment with her hair covered in dust.  The doorman's sons raced upstairs to the fourth floor to warn the man in that apartment to stay off of his balconies as the  wall hit his balcony ledge on its way down and may have weakened the cement. Thankfully, no one was hurt.

The doorman sent his sons back up to the roof with sledgehammers to knock the rest of the damaged wall down before it fell on its own while the youngest of them stayed downstairs to prevent cars and foot traffic from entering our street.

We only have a few more days of exams left and then Thursday night, God willing, we will attend an engagement party for my husband's niece. Maybe I'll remember to buy batteries for my camera and I can post some photos.  More when I can stop to catch my breath.

Emotional Leg Warmers

When my husband travels overseas for months at a time for work, I go through a roller-coaster of emotions. I usually start out numb for a few days and then I'm fine. But after a few weeks, I start to get depressed. And I usually feel it coming on ahead of time. It will manifest itself at first in anxiety attacks, complete with tightened chest muscles, short breath, and red, itchy blotches across my chest and up my neck. Then, as I force myself to maintain composure and control, for the sake of my kids, I start to internalize the stress and I begin to cry over stupid things like So You Think You Can Dance choreography and realizing we're out of milk when I've already poured myself coffee. I oversleep a lot during this phase and my kids end up missing a few days of school. Also, I will sometimes realize that it has been a few days since I've showered. Usually, my oldest daughter will walk up and sniff my hair and say, "Eww. Hair stinks. Gonna  puke."

Way to all of a sudden get verbal there, Kid.

Anyway, so yesterday I recognized where I was in my cyclical depression and as I tried to pull off my leg warmers, I realized something else. It's not 1984 and I don't own leg warmers! So I decided, "That's enough of that!" and grabbed a razor and hit the shower.

It's amazing how much better I feel. I got up in time to take my kids to school today. (They didn't actually attend though because the power is out and won't be back until next week.) And I have lamb chops marinating in the fridge and just sent one of the boys out to buy me a head of lettuce. I took my younger daughter to buy the yarn she needs for home economics. I'm only two loads away from catching up the laundry. So, things are looking up. And if it would just rain, I'd be a smiling, happy person again. (I love the rain.) 

And maybe, just maybe, I'll make fresh buttermilk biscuits with cheese and fried eggs for the kids for supper tonight before they go to bed. And we'll read aloud on my bed like we used to do when they were younger and I won't miss my husband and my son so much and I'll be able to sleep without waking up all groggy and blue again....for a while. But it's a cycle that I go through every couple of months while he's gone and I recognize that it's just a part of me. 

Today Is 123-Friday!

In honor of my 123rd post on Squarer Pegs, Rounder Holes, I thought I'd mix it up a little bit and just write about all of the little blurb-y type things as they pop into my head. How is that different from my usual postings? Well, ordinarily I would have to scrunch up my eyebrows a bit and squint my eyes and focus really hard to stay relative-ish to the one subject. And what is the relevance of the 123rd posting? I like simplicity, counting, and while the number 123 is NOT a prime number, it does consist of the first 3 prime digits and so I like that. I like math. And I do hate round numbers so much, unless it's a string of zeros on the left of a decimal point as it relates to a check made payable to me.

Justin Bieber-  Really?! I mean, yeah, I come from the generation that brought us the likes of Milli Vanilli, Nu Shooz, and Tiffany.....but they didn't walk into glass walls and doors and then threaten to walk off of an interview set. Dude! Your following will ALWAYS be 12 year old girls. Game over.

American Football- I don't follow it anymore. Living in Egypt has sort of ruined sports for me since I don't give a crap about Al-Ahly soccer team OR Zumalek soccer team. I've heard people talking about NFL teams that weren't even in existence when I left the US back in 2001. So if your refs are on strike or suck now....I'd like to be concerned, but just can't be bothered. My apologies.

I attended high school (first 3 years) in Stuttgart, Germany and right now as I type this there is an all-year alumni/faculty reunion going on IN STUTTGART in conjunction with the Stuttgarter/Canstaadt festival and some of my friends are there now, reliving memories in our old school, football field, and stomping grounds and I am SOOO jealous that I couldn't be there with them. Hope you guys all have a great time. Go Stallions! Class of 1986 RULES!

Mosquitoes- I frickin' hate them. Especially those little tiny beige almost invisible ones that you can't ever kill until after they've drained at least 2 pints of blood from your fingertips, ears, toes, and legs! And then when you finally do, they explode with YOUR blood splattering all over the walls, curtains, and your skin where you've smacked 'em.

Why do we always run out of garbage bags when there is old food in the back of the fridge that needs to be thrown out? And then you leave it in the fridge because this inevitably happens at night and if you leave it on the counter as a reminder to throw it out, your whole kitchen stinks. But then you forget that it's in the fridge and needs to be thrown out and you don't find it again until you're ...that's right!....out of garbage bags again. Oh. And as long as I'm on the refrigerator  path, could you please...someone, anyone?....tell me what is the friggin' direct correlation between every member of my family and the top shelf of the refrigerator??? I use the top shelf for tall or "careful this is spillable" things or large things that won't fit on any other shelves. My kids (and sometimes my husband) will place the following things on the top shelf:  1 egg, a tiny dessert dish with 1/2 Tablespoon of fava beans, anything that requires use of the crisper drawer (because the crisper drawer is where they apparently hide things that they don't want to share with each other,) and the empty milk container. *sigh*

Word of Advice:  Never accidentally drop the f-bomb in front of your autistic teenager, because while MOST of her verbal skills are learned from movies and tv and books, the shit you DON'T want her to say in front of her grandmother to reinforce your shitty parenting skills, is EXACTLY what will enter (full time) into her vocabulary. *Score one more on my parental WIN card.*

Pinterest is AWESOME/DEVIL- I've now managed to complete 10 items from all the thousands of pinned items on my boards. Hey. That's not so bad considering we don't have craft stores or American conveniences here like chocolate chips, instant-ANYTHING (except coffee) or cool stuff like double-sided sticky tape or stencils. The entire DIY-concept is new to Egypt.

In a conversation on Facebook with my sister, MJ, last week, I decided that my list of favorite words included:  diphthong, bracket, penultimate, frivolous, superfluous, and sublime. My list, of course, is not limited to these. She prefers crapulence, kerfuffle, hornswaggle and canoodle.

I love my family...I want to build a garden-butterfly sanctuary in my backyard one day. Can someone tell me why leg hair after 40 is less frequently in need of shaving but some single damn chin WIRE because it's too coarse to be hair continues to pop out ever week or so no matter how often you pull the f***er out?! Will health insurance cover operations that shave bunions off your feet using lasers so it can be done outpatient? And why can't Rush Limbaugh just frickin' overdose already or spontaneously explode into little tiny piles of Rush-lets that only spew minute bits of bullshit at a time and are all polarized so that they can never be in the same place at the same time like tiny magnets? I think the movie "Idiocracy" should be run as a public service announcement to get intelligent people to do their civic duty and repopulate the planet with more intelligent life and stop waiting so damn long to have kids. You're NEVER going to be better "financially prepared" for kids. They will just suck MORE money out of you if you have more of it. Poor people know this. Just have them.

And I'll leave you with one last irrelevant thought:  Kids who are wearing their very last pair of hole-free jeans three weeks before payday will ALWAYS be able to find a tree to climb and "slide out" of it hooking the ass of their pants on that single spot of tree trunk that ISN'T smooth and rip a hole in the back. Murphy's Law? Yes. Me and Murph go way back.

The Flip Side to the Bully Problem

I read a blog about bullying today.

I cried.

I felt the pain and frustration and anguish and nausea of the bullied 

kid's mom.

I felt what she felt because I've been there before with my kids.

But I also felt it from a different perspective.

See, I'm the mother of a "bully."

When I use the quotation marks I'm not at all attempting to say that the word 

bully is a misnomer;

not even in my son's case.

However, it is a label that I don't like attached to him. 

He's so much more than that. 

He's bright.

He's funny...and not only at your kid's expense.

He's also frustrated.

And he's embarrassed.

And he's ashamed.

He has a learning disability that we've only recently been able to figure out.

Does this excuse him punching his sister in the shoulder

because he didn't like how she told him "What's it to you?"

NO!

Does it excuse him constantly aggravating his younger brother by 

farting on his head and stepping on his pillow or throwing his used

tissues at him?

OF COURSE NOT!

Does it make him any less responsible for his actions when he 

chooses to beat up his older brother or challenge his

"manhood" by calling him hateful names?

CERTAINLY, IT DOESN'T.

See, I'm well aware that this kid is my test in patience....one I fear I may be failing

MISERABLY.

I have tried talking to him,

yelling at him,

taking away his privileges when he bullies,

rewarding him when he doesn't.

It's not working.

I ask him why he hits and pushes and teases and hurts  others.

His answer is always the same:

"I don't know."

I am frustrated, too. I want to puke, too. I cry, too.

But not because my kid is being bullied...

because my kid is bullying yours.

And I get the nasty glares,

and the hateful retorts, 

and the threats from angry siblings, cousins, neighbors, teachers and parents.

I'm not ignoring it.

You're right it IS unacceptable behavior.

However, I do live in a country where psychological counseling is 

questionable at best.

So seeing a shrink is not an option.

I'm doing my best to try to find exactly what 

is making him behave this way 

so that we can work together

to fix it.

And it's hard...REALLY, hard.

And I can only apologize to those parents of bullied kids

on behalf of those of us who have kids who bully

and are aware of the behavior 

and are trying to change it.

I'm sorry.

But I'd like to ask a favor of you.

For just one moment, please step back from the emotion

of your situation and it won't be easy...

but before immediately asking that hateful 

and hurtful question:

HOW DO THESE PARENTS ALLOW THEIR KIDS TO BULLY OTHERS?

Think...

We don't "allow it."

I know MY kid has never come up and said to me,

"Mom, if so-and-so gets on my nerves today, is it okay if I throw his

backpack out of the 3rd floor window?"

Most of the time, we're not aware of the bullying. 

Once I was notified, I began immediately to work with my son

in an attempt to identify the reasons behind the behavior AND to put an 

end to it.

It's not going to happen overnight.

Let's be realistic. 

All of our kids are works in progress.

I'm not saying at all that I'm sitting back and hoping that he'll outgrow 

this stage like he did the nail-biting thing.

But I'm also groping around in 

the dark.

All of these cool websites who offer "help to stop bullying" are

seemingly coming at it from a "how not to be a victim of bullying."

This is not helpful to those of us who are on the 

other side of the bullying spectrum.

I have found a couple of sites that at least touch upon it

without the immediate 

"Go seek mental professional help" option.

You can find assistance here:

http://www.stopbullying.gov/respond/support-kids-involved/index.html

or here:

http://suite101.com/article/bullying-how-to-make-it-stop-a139442

Anyway, I just wanted to say that 

the bullying problem is just as frustrating from the other

side of it only in a very different

perhaps more guilt-ridden way. 

If we, as parents, work together to teach our kids

to work through their frustrations in a healthy way and how to 

stand up to bullies by talking to parents or teachers or

some other adult who can help,

then maybe we can succeed at stopping 

bullying.

Feel free to place helpful suggestions in the comments section. 

I really am tired of banging my head against a wall

to come up with new ways of

trying to work through this with him.

Thanks. 

Gainful Employment *OR* 1 Down 4 to Go

Yesterday afternoon, while I was sweating my ass off in the kitchen making dinner and washing up the dishes that the kids had stacked up to just under the spigot so that I had to lift it up in order to unwedge the large pot from between it and every dish I own under it, my mobile phone rang. (Okay, it didn't actually ring. It played some bizarre ass Portuguese song called 'O Sol' that I don't understand because, even though I speak  5 languages, Portuguese is not one of them.) I squeezed the excess water (2/3 of which was probably just sweat) from my t-shirt and answered the phone. It was my husband's cousin.

She called to offer my son, Ismail, a job. She's working at a bakery now and in need of someone to work with her selling bread, breadsticks, cookies, muffins, zweiback toast and this awesome, flaky Egyptian pastry thing called FATEER. Anyway, she had heard me talking about how he was on my last nerve and in need of a job to keep him busy and to help him to learn responsibility. I could hear Ismail and his older brother starting to argue, so I told her I'd stop over at her  place after I fed them.

Fast forward through the next 3 hours of my typical, only-boring-because-of -the-repetition-and-not-because-my-kids-don't-try-to-kill-each-other kind of day and I sent Samiya (nearly 13) to her French lesson at the lecture center, Randa (16) was taking a nap, Mohamed (17) was at the cyber-cafe and Ismail (14) and Aiman (11) were just chilling out watching television. I quickly got dressed and ran over to Abir's house. She looked completely knackered. Poor thing.

She'd been at work from 7am until 2pm. She stopped to buy food on her way home and ran home to cook, fed the boys (ages 5, 6, 9 and 10) and then hustled the three oldest out the door to the lecture center (where my daughter goes.) The water had been shut off in their building all day long and she couldn't do the dishes or wash the mountain of clothes that 4 young boys will go through playing soccer in the dirt all day while she was at work. I could totally feel her pain.

So, she started talking to me about the job and explained that because he is strong, he would help her to lift the trays in and out of the ovens. Also, she knows that he is trustworthy. She knows he's ornery as hell but that he doesn't steal and that he has a good work ethic. I was honored that she offered him the position before her own siblings. Anyway, I texted his father and let him know what was going on. He said, COOL. So the boy began work this morning at 7 a.m.

He was up and dressed by 6:45 and out the door to meet Abir just seconds after I insisted he wait until I unlock the door. (We can't have an Ismail-shaped  hole in the door, now can we?) I went back to bed. HE got the job not me.

I called him around 12:30 to see how he was doing. He really liked it. He asked if he could stay until 3 if they needed him and I said yes. He came through the door at 2:30pm, happy as a clam with his daily pay in his pocket.

He had his dinner and we started his English lesson. About 30 minutes into it, I could see his eyelids fighting to stay open. I told him to take a shower and hit the sack. In all the excitement about starting work, he couldn't fall asleep until nearly 3 in the morning. He was out like a light by 6pm.

I am so happy. That old phrase "busy hands are happy hands" could not be more appropriate. When he doesn't have something to occupy his time, he gets creative...usually in a very ornery sort of way. I just can't wait until Saturday. Samiya and Aiman will be heading back to school then and I may have peace in my household again by October. WOOHOO. Can't wait.

Forcing the Hand

I've been busy this past week. I completely blew off my blog with the exception of the post about my step-brother's car accident last week because it was the only way I could deal with my emotions about the whole thing. I was busy editing Nuala Reilly's latest book release, Spring Daisies.  Well, I finally finished that last night. And since I've been focusing primarily on that and NOT playing around on Facebook or too terribly much on Pinterest or here, I decided that I should get on here and get in some goof-off time. I deserve it.
Also, since Mohamed and Ismail are both finishing their 3 day sentence of no t.v. and no computer privileges due to their last 3:30a.m. fight and disrespect Mom session.....I figured, Samiya and Aiman had been online for far too long anyway and took my place at the keyboard. Here's how it went about 15 minutes later, with Aiman:

"Mom, I want to go play at the cyber-cafe."

    "No."

"Awwwwwwwww! Why not?"

    "Because it's dark outside and your sister is at her French lessons and your brothers are both grounded and you're not allowed to go by yourself."

"You NEVER let me do anything!"

He stomped off and then came back 3 minutes later, plopping down on the foot stool that has become a permanent fixture next to the computer desk.

"How come you won't let me buy membership to Monkey Quest? You HAVE a credit card in your purse. I saw it!"

    "It's not a credit card. It's a debit card."

"So why can't I use it? HUH?"

    "Because it's expired and it's a debit card for a bank I don't have an account with anymore."

"Well, why can't I get a credit card so that I can buy Monkey Quest membership and get access to all the cool levels, HUH?"

    "Because you are 11 and you owe me $37,628.34 for everything I've spent on you so far. Now beat it. And if I hear the words "credit card" or "Monkey Quest membership" in the same sentence from you again I will block the Monkey Quest site from our computer and you won't be allowed to play it again until you're 19."

"You are ALWAYS telling me NO!"

He stomped off again and I was able to write a comment on my friend's photo. It consisted of LOL. Then he came back and started pounding on the arm of my chair.

    "What do you want, Aiman?"

"Can I go up on the roof of the bread factory tomorrow?"

    "NO."

"WHY not? Ismail gets to."

   "First of all, Ismail doesn't "get to." He is going to talk to the woman who owns it and get permission from her to go on the roof of the bread factory so that he can collect up all of the trash and crap that our lovely neighbors have chucked out of their windows and off of their balconies and we can possibly cut down on the mosquito population and keep the bread factory roof from leaking once it starts raining next month. Until he has permission he doesn't "get to" do anything."

"So? Why can't I help him?"

     "Because you're 11. And you trip over air while walking through the living room sometimes. I don't want you clowning around up there and end up falling off and breaking your neck. I really can't afford spinal surgeries right now. I really want to buy a house."

"He's ONLY 2 years older than me!"

    "He's 2 and a half years older than you. And I don't want you up there."

"WHY are you such a jerk to me?"

     "Just remember I'm the "jerk" who can take away your computer privileges for a week due to your sassy mouth."

"I NEVER get to hear YES from you!"

He stomped off again and I got to read a one-liner status update on Facebook before he stomped back over and started slapping his sister's yo-yo around the legs of my chair.

     "Stop it."

"I don't want to. I'm trying to make it wrap around the leg and then unwrap on its own."

     "If you break it, then you will replace it with your own money."

"I don't have any  money."

    "Then I'll let your sister pound 3.50 EP out of your hide to pay the debt. I'm sure she won't mind."

"You are really mean to me."

    "I must not like you very much. Is that what you want to hear?"

"No!  Can I go outside to play?"

    "No."

"WHY NOT?!"

     "It's dark outside and you have to be in the house by sunset, per your father's rules. Don't like it? Raise your kids however you like when you grow up and get married."

"I will! And I won't always tell them NO like you do to me, either."

     "We'll see, won't we?"

(Now crying real tears.) "Why do you always tell me NO for EVERYTHING??!"

      "Why do you always ask me for permission to do things you already know you're not allowed to do?"

"What do you mean?"

      "Well, had you asked me, 'Mom, may  I wash the dishes for you?' or 'May I watch t.v.?' or 'Is it okay if I grow a fu manchu mustache?' I would have said 'YES! YES! and YES!"

"I can't wait until I'm 18."


   

Yukon on My Mind

steamy....
   sweaty.....
       sultry...but not in a sexy, New Orleans late September kind of way....

stinky....
   funky....
      damp...that's the dirty laundry piled up on the floor in front of my washer...

empty....
   dusty......
      dry....that's the  inside of my roll-on deodorant bottle




this is the summer from Hell.  I have showered more times per day than an automatic car wash runs when giving away free washes with every tank of gas purchased.  my permanent hair dye washed out after two weeks due to frequent washing. i look at pictures of Alaska, polar bears, popsicles, ice cubes and toboggans just to cool off. the kids broke one of the fans. i offered to exchange the guilty party for a new fan but the guy thought i was joking and held out his hand for the 110 pounds that a new fan will cost me. my hilarious youngest son cut out the picture of the fan from the box and gave it to me. he said this fan will still provide air even in a power outage. who knew that a finger poke to the forehead could make someone cry?

i look at the 10-day forecast and it's as though the guy just made photo copies of the same forecast back in late May and then took a 3-month vacation. 0% chance of rain, 0% chance of rain,  0% chance of rain.

maybe we should move out of Africa and into Alaska.


    

Coffee IS My Xanax

As I've mentioned, I'm fasting. Today is the 10th day of Ramadan. And so far, it's been fairly easy. We thought that it was going to be a bear with it beginning in the middle of July this year. But all in all, it's been fine. I guess that with the heatwave hitting in June, we've grown accustomed to not sleeping until around 4 or 5 in the morning because it's too hot. And then we get up around noon. I had someone remark to me that we aren't "really fasting" if we sleep all day...but we aren't "sleeping all day."  We're actually sleeping less. And
we aren't "eating all night." We eat at sunset (around 7 pm) and then again around 2:30 am so that we have something in our bellies before we sleep. The really hard part for the kids is water. And so as soon as the call to prayer at sunset goes off, they start walking around the house with a 1.5 liter water bottle in their hands and drink and refill and drink refill.

For me, the hard part as usual is the coffee. I am admittedly a coffee addict. And before anyone starts with the whole "you could start drinking decaf and eliminate caffeine completely" ideas or offering of 12-step programs (is there one for caffeine addiction?) I LIKE MY DRUG OF CHOICE. You have no  idea what it's like. I'm raising five kids in a foreign country with my husband working overseas and I am doing this stone-cold sober and without the assistance of SSRI's. Look. When I got pregnant with the first one 17+ years ago, I stopped smoking. I stopped drinking. (This made becoming a Muslim easy later.)  I cut back on coffee to only 2 cups a day while pregnant and 3 cups a day while nursing. (Damn. That kind of explains the ADD issues, doesn't it? Oh well.)
So, here's the truth that I tell my kids:  I drink coffee for YOUR protection! I do. It's true. I don't think that they ever believed that until today. I usually serve several types of juice at breakfast before I hand out plates. They get their choice of carob juice, tamarind juice, mango juice or Tang. Then they can switch it up and have another type. Whatever. The important thing is that they get that blood sugar up after fasting all day and juice is the quickest way to do that. Then we eat. While I'm serving plates, I'm usually making a cup of coffee at the same time. I drink coffee WITH my breakfast. Only tonight, the milk was disgustingly chunky.....so I dumped the cup down the sink after a swig. And then....OMG, is it possible?.....I forgot to make another cup.
I finished eating and then a little while later announced that I was going to nap for about an hour. I awoke three hours later with a throbbing headache from hell and feeling panicky and sick. I didn't even get off the bed. I handed my purse to the youngest and told him to go buy me a liter of milk ASAP. The oldest came in to check on me and I told him to go make me a cup of coffee. I'm on my third cup now and no longer resemble the pulsating swollen bruise on Tom's head after Jerry smacks him with a hammer.
So, you may ask, am I ready to give up my last addiction? NEVER!
But I am ready to make sure that we have fresh milk in the house before sunset!
(By the way, all of the above images are courtesy of user uploads to Photobucket.com and are not my own personal property.)

Respect for Elders

So, yesterday was another scorcher and I opted to send two of my kids down to the corner store to pick up a bunch of stuff we were missing. They spent about 35 Pounds buying me groceries and complained that the owner was really crabby.  I blew it off and went about making breakfast (it's Ramadan and we're fasting until sunset) when I realized that I forgot to have the kids buy salt. I sent Ismail back down to the corner store to get me a bag of salt. He came home really angry but not raging (which is good for a 13 yr old boy who is learning to control his emotions.) He said that the dude gave him a bag of salt and he paid and then asked for a plastic sack to put it in. The owner of the store yelled at him, "It comes in a bag!" Ismail thought he was just clowning with him and said, "No, really. I want a bag."  The owner yelled at him again and got in his face this time, "I TOLD YOU IT COMES IN A BAG!"  So Ismail handed the salt back to him and said, "Then I don't want anything from you. I would like my money back." So the guy jerks the salt out of his hand and stuffs the money into it and says, "That's even better. Now get out!" (And here's where I got pissed.) He shoved him toward the door.

Ismail went to his biggest competitor across the street and bought the salt there. When he came home he told me that he was so mad and he wanted to hit him but he didn't. And he insisted that I go downstairs immediately and tell him what's what. I told him I'd do it later but that I needed to make fitar (breakfast) first and that I would handle it later that night or the next day. Ismail wanted to come along and I told him I didn't think it was a good idea. He was livid. He swore he'd never buy anything from that big jerk ever again. I told him that we're not going to call names because it's haram (forbidden) and this is a guy who is in his late 50's or early 60's. We need to calm down. I got him busy making juice and talking about other things and so it went. I didn't go talk to the man last night. I waited until today.

I decided to take Ismail with me. As we were walking, we passed the masjid on our street where many people were praying the Taraweeh prayers (extra prayers said each night during Ramadan) and we noticed that the store owner was praying from a seated position near the door. He usually stands and bows and kneels with the younger men in the masjid. We kept walking and I told Ismail that maybe it would be best if we just go to the store and talk to the owner's brother who also works there. That way he can act as an intermediary and present the issue to his brother with our concerns voiced but without the older man feeling as though he is being attacked. But his brother was not there. His son was. I spoke calmly and explained to the young man what had happened and he apologized for his father. I explained that I understand that the weather is so very hot and that the temperature inside the store is hotter than in the street. This combined with fasting can make for short tempers. However, as sassy and rotten as my kids are to me and each other at home, I know without a doubt that they do not get sassy and rude with elders. I have been complimented on this fact many times, even by the store owner. And if my son was out of line in any way, I will address the issue with him. But under no circumstances was the owner right in shoving him or touching him in any way.

The young man kissed Ismail on his forehead and apologized for his father's behavior. "Tont (Aunt), I am so sorry. But my father is under great stress right now. You see, he took my uncle and niece and grandmother to a cousin's wedding on the first of this month. I stayed here and ran the store overnight. They were in an accident on the way home and my father rolled the car 3 times. I left straight from here to the hospital and he didn't even know that my grandmother, Allah bestow her His mercy, didn't make it. I had to tell him when I arrived. My father has permanent damage to his spine and has broken ribs. My uncle broke his shoulder and my niece was cut across her lip and chin. My father went straight back to work and refuses to take any time off and if I suggest it, he yells at me or slaps me. But what can I do? He is my father. But if you would just forgive him. He is very angry and hurt and his nerves are not the same. And all that I can do is ask that Allah forgive him and give me patience to wait until my father is able to deal with this grief. You know that I love Ismail like my little brother and all of your children are always very respectful in this store. I'm so sorry."

I told him that I understand and said "May Allah bless him with patience" and then bought a few cookies and things that we really didn't need but as a gesture that we understand and are not taking our business elsewhere.  When we left the store, I asked Ismail if he understood what all was happening in the store owner's world.  He said, "Wow. He has had a lot to deal with in just a few weeks. I wonder if he has cried yet." I told him probably not or he wouldn't be so angry and grouchy. We talked about PTSD and grief and rage and how sometimes people blame themselves for things that were destined to happen. I asked Ismail if he was upset that I didn't go in yelling and screaming and that I bought from them. He said no. And that he understood that the best way to handle the situation was as I had done because it showed respect for everyone involved.

Thank God. I am doing something right.