For a Proper Prayer, Lock the Kids Up

Don't worry, I'm just kidding. Could I be the only one who has not had a proper prayer, full of reverence and connection to God, since the birth of my first daughter?

Obviously we all know kids are distracting. When it was just my now two year old, I would try to pray while she napped, or sat with someone else. But now she is napping less, and often wants to be around me, interacting and playing. So my prayer has become hurried, and I usually do not have time for extra prayers, or anything beyond the basic requirements. Even though she has developed an interest in praying with us, it's not so easy to concentrate with her standing next to me, reciting her makeshift Arabic supplications.

But that's not my only problem now.  Since her sister came into our lives 7 months ago, prayer has become more of an exercise. One moment, I am stretching my arm as far as possible to snatch something out of her mouth that should not be eaten.  Another moment, I am kicking out a leg to block her from a pile of wires to the left of me or trying to uncurl her hands from a swatch of her sister's hair. All while trying to maintain my position in prayer.

Last night, our evening prayer was an absolute circus. While the two year loves to model us, don a scarf and lay her prayer mat down next to us, her sister has her own plans. Those plans include trying to eat the prayer mat, going after our heads in prostration, and generally chasing her down as her sister as she tried to get away from her.  My husband and I were on the verge of laughter the entire prayer, and broke out laughing as soon as it was over.

It made for a fun evening, but now I wonder, did we miss out on that prayer?

Please share your advice be on how to pray with kids around.  I look forward to hearing it.

Mothers and Ramadan

So I tried to partake in Ramadan a few days ago. The hubby went to pray the first half of the night pray at the masjid, and then came home to stay with the sleeping kids while I went to the masjid.

It was not so successful. Rather than feeling a spiritual rush for being in a masjid packed with people praying, I had to fight hard to keep myself awake during the prayer. At first it was hard to keep my mind from wandering with a million different thoughts. So I closed my eyes, and instead I felt as if I would fall asleep standing in that moment. So I open my eyes. Mind wanders again. Close my eyes. I feel a sudden urge to lay down in the middle of the row I was praying in.

There have been a few articles out recently regarding mothers and ramadan, reassuring us that we would be rewarded as much, although we may be missing out on fasting or extra prayers. Thank you, but your words were unneccesary. In fact, it almost felt as if I was being patronized, with male authors telling us how much reward there is in motherhood.

No kidding! Motherhood is hard and rewarding? Tell me more I about something I have been going through for over two years.  Allah will reward us for raising our children? Was there even any doubt of His generosity and mercy, especially towards mothers, the stewards of the Ummah?

And I know a lot of men say with their words how hard motherhood is and how grateful they are to mothers. Well, words do not mean enough. In fact mothers have something kin to a 30 hour workday, while a husband may come home from an 8 hour workday. So stop sympathizing with your words alone, and help out. Pick up a load of laundry, cook a meal, or change a diaper. By the way, this is not a criticism to my own husband, he has been wonderful, despite being in law school. But there's always room for improvement ;)

And one more important fact. When you do that load of laundry, or change a smelly diaper, do it without being asked. Without me dropping a fairly obvious hint. Or even a subtle one, though subtlety has never been my strong point.  Without any mention of it. That will bump you up from 1 point to 100 points for the same act.

How far does a mother's love go?

Lately I have been plagued with a thought that scares me: what If I don't like my kids as they get older?

I love and adore them right now, and the icing on the cake is the added cuteness of their age, Iman being six months, Noor being 2 years old. I realize now that this is the age I LOVE. I cannot imagine a day without their endless (and in Iman's case, toothless) smiles and unconditional love. The tears at the drop of a hat, followed by incessant laughter and giggles. Most of all what I enjoy is their interaction with each other, watching them in complete adoration of one another. I am not looking forward to the day they fight over each other's clothes.

Recently at a gathering, certain friends were saying how they were glad to be done with diapers, baby food, and strollers. But I LOVE this stuff. I revel in it. I cannot imagine a time when it all becomes obsolete. I still have not even thrown away Noor's old pacifiers, not that I am reusing them or anything. I won't part with these teeny, tiny baby blankets, even though Iman rolls around so much they are useless. And I can't stop buying baby clothes. Even though there is literally nowhere to put any more clothes.

My dear friend M.Y. told me her husband always wants more children because he loves the infant age so much.  I never understood that. Until now.

So mothers with older children, I ask you, does a mother's love ever run out? Or does it morph and continue to grow with your child?

The other side

I should have known that my feelings would change in a second.
I wish I was working in television right now, covering the Olympic Games. *sigh*

Just as I thought to myself last week about how happy I was with my current occupation, as a stay at home mom to two girls. And then *poof*; just like that I am wondering about the other side.

Allah knows best.

Ramadan 2012

This is my fourth year of not fasting during the month of Ramadan.  Year 1- pregnant. Year 2-nursing. Year 3-pregnant. Year 4- nursing. My poor husband has been eating suhoor alone for years, waking up alone in the middle of the night to have this early meal and get ready for his day of fasting. It's hard enough getting up, I imagine it's much harder getting up alone.

I am scared of what it will be like for me when I do start fasting again. But for now I am trying my best to come up with ways to absorb the blessings of this month.

I don't have too many ideas, so I welcome your ideas. For now I am sharing daily goals with a friend who recently moved to Europe.

Today's goal was not to get cross with the kids. ALL day. It was not easy, in fact, I failed. I will try again tomorrow, along with the next day's goal: put away my cell phone from 6 pm until kids are asleep.  I hope to not just to accomplish these two things on this one day, but hopefully long term.

I am also trying to keep up with my extra night prayers.  I miss the years before the kids, going to the mosque every night, praying amidst the crowds, but mentally focused on the Quran in my hands, imagining myself in the masjid in Medina.  It was a different time. I miss thinking about prayer during prayer, and not worrying about which one of the babies may wake up, crying or hungry, or worse, wake the other one up. Being able to sleep in without a toddler jumping on my bed was an added luxury at the time.

Over the past few years, I have felt the hole left in my faith by not fasting. I felt deficient, but too tired to do anything about. I tried to read a lot of Quran, but my eyes would close a few minutes into it.

This year I am trying not to focus on fasting(rather not fasting), but instead revel in worshipping Allah through my children. I know it's not the same, but I know it's accepted just the same. Allah will reward whatever I can muster up the strength to do at the end of the day, as long as I make my intention solely to please Him.

Inshalah.

Who would have thunk it

Ironing tiny little ruffles, on tiny little blouses is a BIG pain in the butt. Ironically I only iron my own clothes on special occasions, such as weddings and Eid.

The grass is always greener on the other side

I have several circles of friends, and all kinds of friends, and the one thing that predominates my conversations everywhere I go is our happiness as mothers.

Sometimes, we sit and vent; we have to in order to feel sane and know that what we are going through will not kill us. There are things in our lives we love and hate, and things we hate but can't live without.

And then there is motherhood.  From the outside, one side always seems to have it better.  The mommies who are stay at home, like myself, often wonder if we are missing out on the outside world. Why do the moms who work seem to have more fun with their kids on weekends and when they come home? What is their secret? Why aren't they fighting with their two year old like I am?

And then the mommies who work are sitting at their job missing their kids, sometimes in tears. They come home in time to put them to sleep. They may miss the first time the baby sat up, the baby's first steps. "Is it worth it?" they wonder day in and out.

I always thought working part time would be a happy medium, but I find the mothers who do so are also not content.

So there it is. In case you were wondering, no one is 100% pleased with their situation. You think you can always do more, spend more time, feel more fulfilled. But that may never happen. So it's time to go back to the old adage that YOU control YOUR happiness. So be happy with that two hours a day, even if you are rolling around on the sofa having a tickle fight. The dishes can wait (or start using paper plates, sorry if I am not being an environmentalist).

Stop comparing yourself to the single woman at work who's been on the job for 15 years and be proud of what you have accomplished. If you want to do more, then go for it and be proactive.

And if you miss your kids, go home to them. You can't have it both ways moms. I pray that Allah gives us the means to be able to choose what makes us happy.

So whatever you select, be happy with it now AND later; do not turn it into something you regret a few years down the line.  Have faith that Allah put you where you are for a reason, and that's what you are supposed to be doing, at least at this point in your life.

As for myself, after two years of complaining, I am 98% content in being a stay at home mom to two beautiful, amazing challenging girls. The 2% is for those days they drive me nuts :)

Announcement: blog title change

I have been desiring to start blogging again for a while now. The real reason I have not been blogging is not because my hands are full (which they are, with two kids), but because I felt I had nothing to blog about. So here I am, my first blog in several months. I may have nothing great to say, but
at least I can use my blog as a way to get my thoughts written out and organized, for whatever purpose.

I have also changed the title from "A Fly on the Wall" to the new title, so I can focus on my adventures in motherhood.  I have no right to call myself a superhero, but I thought it fit into the title so I went with it.

So stay tuned. Also I welcome your guests posts, so send them over.

Sameera

She's Here!

Alhamdulilah my second daughter has entered this world, healthy and beautiful beyond the scope of my own limited duas. It's incredible to know that my own mother loves me so much to make these incredible duas for me. How else could I blessed in so many ways?



It's been quite the week. On Sunday, we thought perhaps I was in labor, feeling what I thought was contractions, so we went to the hospital to get checked out. It turns out I was not, but from the moment we got into the labor triage room, I felt annoyed, especially because the biggest football game was on in a few hours, and I really wanted my husband to be able to watch it at home, especially if we did not really have to be at the hospital. (I know, how selfless of me; actually I did not want to fight with him during labor for ignoring me)


After being okay'ed by my doctor to leave, they decided only moments later to keep me for a few more hours and put me on an IV because the baby's heartbeat was high. Stupid, stupid coke zero. Why did I drink you on the way to the hospital? After arguing with the nurse and the doctor I gave in, mostly because Moustafa convinced me to go with it, since we were there already. I lay on the bed another two hours until they finally allowed us to go home. I was praying for this the whole time, but really did not expect it to happen, as I know how hospitals like to control the situation, and in almost every situation, the patient is kept and induced (and I was a mere 24 hours overdue).  Luckily Moustafa was able to catch most of the game at home, but heartbroken when his team lost.


The next day, I moved up my doctors appointment because I wanted an update on what was going on with this baby and to make sure my doctor knew about the false alarm.  While I was there, she did something known as stripping of the membranes (I will leave you to google that).  I read that it works for some, but usually makes little difference.  It did however cause me to cramp and spot, which was expected.


So the day went on, I continued to have cramping and spotting. Around 8 pm, I asked my sister to come to Target with me; I just had to have hand soap refill before this baby came. Funny how trivial things can weigh you down like it's the end of the world. As we were walking through Target, I was in so much pain at times, I wanted to lay on the floor. Darn cramping, I thought.


So we didn't stay long. Came home and the "cramping" got progressively worse and more painful until 9:30 when I called my doctor.  I don't expect her to remember every detail about every patient, so I didn't blame her when she said I didn't sound like I was in labor on the phone or in crazy pain. I am just not that kind of person (until later). So she said hang out at home another hour or so, see how it goes. I decided to take a bath, hoping to ease the pain, forgetting that my pseudo ob/gyn (Dr. Mona) told me that warm baths can also help relax and body and bring on labor. By the time I got out at 10:30 the pain had only gotten worse. This whole time, Moustafa is as doubtful as I am that this was worth a hospital trip.  But by now I was red and sweaty from the pain I was in. Pretty soon, I begged to go to the hospital.


We got to the hospital and the guard at the labor triage room showed us to the waiting room, to wait for a nurse. As I am waiting, I can barely breath, in excruciating pain and pacing and panting.


Finally a nurse grabbed me coming out of the bathroom. This whole time I am going to the bathroom every 15 seconds, thinking I had to.  She started to take me to an evaluation room, thought the better of it, and took me straight to a labor and delivery room.  After some yelling, at the nurses, at my husband, at anything in front of me, I demanded the in house doctor. My doctor had been informed at this point, but I could not wait any longer..

The on call doctor delivered me at 1:06 am. No waiting. No medicine. No epidural. Somehow, the nurse managed to get an IV in me.

Aside from my sister, we spoke to no one as we left for the hospital.  The next time they heard from us the baby was already here. My mother thought it was a joke, as she did not even know we left for the hospital.  Welcome Iman Badreldin. 7 pounds, 11 ounces. 20.5 inches tall.

We're home now, just a few days later, in the same week. Still in disbelief.

The final countdown

Somehow, by the mercy of Allah nearly ten months have passed, and I am possibly days, or less than two weeks from my due date. I am anxious to know more about and meet my second child.

The past few months have been uneventful, and for once I am grateful for that, Alhamdulilah. Of course barring the birth of my beautiful nephew, Hamza, not much else has happened.

Except that every morning I wake up with a different toddler. Every morning, Noor, who is nearing two years old, does/says/learns something new. And while I bask in the beauty of her rapid growth, I feel sadness underneath and miss the Noor from the day before. She is growing up entirely too fast. Should I listen to my sisters, and record every cute thing she says and does? If I do will I miss out what is happening in front of me? Forget wielding a camera, even if I blink I know I've fallen behind.

I fear I have already missed too much.

What happened to my resolution to read?

Remember way back when I said I would do more reading, and briefly review the books I read for you, my lone blog audience member?

The last book I read was The Hunger Games, and it was fantastic. How fantastic? Well you can go back and read the review. What happened then? It took a few more days to get my hands on the two sequels to The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and The Mockingjay and each one I read in a day. I should also mention that my husband was also unable to put these books down.

And that is the last I read. In fact, since then other books I had ordered through the library, The Immortal Life ofmHenrietta Lachs and Clockwork Angel, came in. But I have no desire to read them. Suzanne Collins, your books have ruined reading for me. Ok just kidding. But it will take me some time. I just renewed Henrietta Lachs for the third time, partly because I hope to still read it, and partly because I am too lazy to go to the library and return it.