Our journey to mastering Arabic has been one that has had many ups and downs, trials and errors, mostly on my part, of course.
The little Arabic I gained from five years of it in high school, I'm embarassed to say, is truly little. I can understand maybe like 20% of what is recited of the Quran, and what is exchanged between Arabs in their extremely 'speedy' conversations.
Gateway to Arabic by Dr. Imran Hamza Alawiye is what I use now to teach the kids Arabic.
The Arabic CD I use, I bought when they were toddlers. We still use it now and Alhamdulillah i think it is really beneficial in enriching their vocabulary. We also have
Alif Ba Ta Yaseen which I also like.
We are in book two for the 'Gateway to Arabic' for S and N, but still book one for H, since he hasn't yet mastered the art of connecting the Arabic letters. S's writing is very good and neat, even from a few years back Masyaallah, as can be seen from her writing of Surah Al-Aadiyat in the previous post. We struggled with her scrawly writing in English, but for some reason, her Arabic handwriting seems to be very well arranged. Whatever it is, Alhamdulillah.
The first step to teaching Arabic, in my opinion is attaining vocabulary. This is also how we learn any other languages. Book one teaches individual letters, and how to connect them. Whether a letter is Al Qamariah(The moon letters) or As-shamsiah (the sun letters) is also taught in Book One.
Book Two moves on to gender, which I think is a somewhat difficult aspect of Arabic, especially when it comes to nouns that are feminine depending on what they are. Body parts for example are feminine in Arabic regardless of having a ta marbuta or not. Earth in Arabic is feminine even though it doesn't have a ta marbuta. These, I don't teach the kids yet, as it might confuse them at this point.
However, we did go in to the muannas (feminine) and muzakkar(masculine) words. the way of differentiation that they know is whether the word has a ta marbuta or not. That's the general rule. So far, they are handling it well Alhamdulillah.
Nest step is to introduce the word Haaza (this is (masculine)) and haazihi(this is (feminine)). This is when things start to get a litte bit more complicated. However, it's good practice and comparatively easy. After they have gotten the hang of stringing together 'this is' and a noun, adjectives are introduced.
So now, instead of just constructing a sentence, "This is a house," they have to construct the sentence, "This is a big house."
Introducing the adjectives were quite a feat for me, for I had to figure out a way for them to remember the words. So we had a little charade. I'd never do this in public. They got a kick out of my silly actions depicting 'big', 'small', 'light','heavy','tall', and 'short'. Even I got a kick of it, thinking, I hope no one videotapes me.
I also began to write the arabic words for items in their room on index cards and taping them onto the items. However, that soon failed as the labels fell off and I gave up.
For a while we abandoned Arabic because I was too tired. Every now and then we would visit it again. ALl the while I realized consistency is the key. Alhamdulillah they didn't forget what they learned, not yet anyway and I was able to resume our lessons.
At one time, N even said to me while we were unpacking the groceries in the kitchen, "This is 3eenaab(grapes)."
N seems to have a natural skill for acquiring language. She's the only one who didn't have difficulty saying 'R'. She doesn't speak a lot, but when she does, she does it perfectly, ALhamdulillah. So naturally, she picks up Arabic quicker than S and H, or even me.
Now, I would say a sentence in Arabic, and they have to write it down in Arabic. So far, it seems to be working well. When they master this stage insyaallah, we'll move on to the next, which is using conjunctions.
Pretty soon, I'll be out of their league and would have to sit in class WITH them under a more qualified teacher. Insyaallah. O Allah, please make it easy for us to learn the language of the Quran so we can understand it better. Ameen.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Thursday, March 30, 2006
No Summer School, Ummi!
(one of many methods of memorizing Surah Al-Aadiyat for S)"I don't want to go to summer school," said S, frowning.
"You've been stuck with me the rest of the year. You NEED to go to summer school. I NEED you to go to summer school," I replied.
Summer is my only reprieve, my superficial vacation, my fake salvation, my tie to sanity.
"It's too babyish!" N protested.
I totally feel her. Last year we had sent them to the summer program at the masjid. S and N were way above kids their age in reciting, memorisation and writing Arabic. S qualified inclusion in a group of teenage girls, but she apparently refused to be with the big girls, according to her teacher. It wasn't until later on that I found that out, when she complained about being bored.
Understandably, S won 'best student' at the end of the program. This was last year.
The year before, there was a different program at the masjid. N was too young then, so S attended the program without her sister. The program was handled by a different set of people. Each student was given a book containing Juz 'Amma. S had to memorize one surah every day. Since she had already memorized the short surahs, they assigned her the longer ones.
I balked at her homework. How was she supposed to memorize Surah Al-Aadiyat in one day? I wrote a note to the teacher, asking for shorter portions for memorization because S ended up crying trying to do her 'homework'. For the record, I almost ended up crying too.
It was a tough yet rewarding summer program for S. It was challenging enough for her.
The year before, I enrolled S and N (who wasn't too young for that particular program) in a summer program run by the local Islamic school. For the whole six weeks, they memorized Surah As-Shams. Hubby scoffed at the comparison of that summer and the next (the tough one).
I wonder what program is going to be available this coming summer. Whatever it is, the point is to throw the kids into the midst of other kids their own age. I don't particularly approve the language and mannerism of the other kids, as I've had the opportunity of listening to them converse. However, I can't shelter the kids forever. With the nurturing at home, it will be a practice ground for them before they go into the world at full force. This year, I hope H will be old enough to enroll. Otherwise, I'll be stuck at home with his never ending chatter.
The World of Pop Ups
It was almost Eid Al Adha, in the year 2003. Frantically, I sought for a project to do to make the Eid more meaningful for the kids. Back home in Malaysia, one would feel the air bristling with the anticipation of Eid, but here in the United States, despite preparations for the upcoming Eid, I still felt obligated to make more of Eid for the kids' sake.
An idea 'popped up' (no pun intended) in my head. I have been browsing through the book 'Tell Me About Hajj' so much so that the image of the Arabian Peninsula lingered in my mind. Why not make a pop up map of the Arabian Peninsula? I thought to myself. I had never made a pop up of anything before, so this was obviously my first attempt.
I observed models of pop up books, and after a while, I began to believe I had mastered the art of creating pop ups. Using the poster board we had lying around unused, I began planning, sketching, drawing, assessing, experimenting, and came up with a pop up map of the Arabian Peninsula.Being a perfectionist, I stubbornly hogged the coloring and outlining of the pop ups on the map, letting the kids work only on the zigurat and the pyramid. Suffice it to say, they left me to my own 'project' after a while. Sure, I was satisfied with the result, but I had failed to employ full involvement of the kids.
So I plunged into another pop up project: the visual aid for the retelling of Hajr and Ismail.
This time I let them do most of the coloring, though I couldn't resist commenting on the lack of 'blending' and evenness of the desert's color. After a while, they began to resent the arduous task of coloring my desert and pleaded to be let go. I coaxed them to continue and they finally finished it. Child labor? Hmm...Then came show time. I had arranged for the kids to do a 'show and tell' to the Malaysian uncles and aunties during Eid. We are one of the two families in the Malaysian community here, so I had to make sure our Eid celebration was kid-geared. It was not easy. Alhamdulillah, the Malaysian girls were obliging.
I had always enjoyed our international Muslim community in Ames, Iowa and Athens, Georgia. Here, since we are one of the only families, the task of cooking fell upon us, so every Eid, we had to attend the Malay functions almost full time. That, however changed after some depression and stress on my part. I didn't feel it was right to attend the Malay functions to the exclusions of other Muslims. We have always attended the International functions and it just felt wrong to stick to our own kind. Furthermore, I had these invitations from my Muslim sisters which resulted in time conflicts, especially with regard to whipping up potluck pleasers. We feel the obligation to the Malaysians, but I also badly wanted to hang out with my other Muslim sisters. By and by, alhamdulillah, this conflict seems to have been resolved by making the Malaysians understand (I hope).
We still have these pop ups securely tucked between the computer desk and the wall. Every now and then, when learning seerah, I would pull the map out as a visual aid. As for the Safa Marwa pop up, we seldom use it anymore. Maybe it's time I test their memory of the story of Hajr and Ismail.
Lest you think I'm a selfish mom who insists on hogging the coloring, I have outgrown my perfectionism by learning to 'let go'. Now, the kids do their own pop ups. Every now and then I would peek at what they're doing, and fight the battle within myself to jump in and grab the crayons from their hands. It wasn't easy, and it still isn't, but as I reach my thirties, I hope I'll 'get over it'.
Blegh
"Ummi can we have this for breakfast?"
N came bounding to my room with a box of Coco Wheat in her hands. I was fighting the urge to go back to sleep. It was to my victory. So I went downstairs and cooked it on the stove.
"Go and take a shower while waiting for it to cool. You won't be able to eat it right away anyway," I told them as I spooned the cooked cereal into the bowls.
Instead of taking a walk in the woods, it makes more sense to go and take a shower while the 'porridge' cools.
They took quick showers and in a few minutes, H was back downstairs, ready to dig in.
We ate in silence.
"You can put some honey in it if you want," I said to H, who immediately did just that.
Then S came downstairs and I told her the same thing.
I ate mine, all the while thinking how bland it was, but I kept my mouth shut.
H proceeded to add more honey, but I said,
"Just stir it."
As is lately the case, he started to put forth his logic.
"But it'll be gone."
After some back and forth explanation and arguments over whether the sweetness will com through or not, I let him add a teeny bit more honey to his cereal.
I had to admit it aloud now.
"It tastes rather..."
I grappled for the word, which seemed to escape my morning brain. They looked at me.
"Bitter?" offered S.
"No." I shook my head. A frown formed on my face at trying to will the word to my mouth.
"Salty?"
"Blegh?" offered H in a non chalant manner, putting a spoonful of cereal in his mouth.
I guffawed. S laughed.
"Remind me to write about it," I said.
That they did. All I heard this morning was, "Ummi, blegh."
N came bounding to my room with a box of Coco Wheat in her hands. I was fighting the urge to go back to sleep. It was to my victory. So I went downstairs and cooked it on the stove.
"Go and take a shower while waiting for it to cool. You won't be able to eat it right away anyway," I told them as I spooned the cooked cereal into the bowls.
Instead of taking a walk in the woods, it makes more sense to go and take a shower while the 'porridge' cools.
They took quick showers and in a few minutes, H was back downstairs, ready to dig in.
We ate in silence.
"You can put some honey in it if you want," I said to H, who immediately did just that.
Then S came downstairs and I told her the same thing.
I ate mine, all the while thinking how bland it was, but I kept my mouth shut.
H proceeded to add more honey, but I said,
"Just stir it."
As is lately the case, he started to put forth his logic.
"But it'll be gone."
After some back and forth explanation and arguments over whether the sweetness will com through or not, I let him add a teeny bit more honey to his cereal.
I had to admit it aloud now.
"It tastes rather..."
I grappled for the word, which seemed to escape my morning brain. They looked at me.
"Bitter?" offered S.
"No." I shook my head. A frown formed on my face at trying to will the word to my mouth.
"Salty?"
"Blegh?" offered H in a non chalant manner, putting a spoonful of cereal in his mouth.
I guffawed. S laughed.
"Remind me to write about it," I said.
That they did. All I heard this morning was, "Ummi, blegh."
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Innovations
S has this expression on her face that just drives me mad. She's intelligent but she doesn't like to do more than she could. She reads like a teenager, but she doesn't like to discuss the reading. I don't sense any exuberance on her part.
She can write well, but she doesn't like to.
"I don't like to think a lot," she says, much to my exasperation.
Okay, maybe I shouldn't press her if she doesn't like it.
Animals. She likes animals. We call her our 'animal expert'. When you have a question about an animal, go and ask S.
History. We have a problem with history.
"I don't like it," she said once, a long time ago.
Then we went on a field trip with OHVA to a museum, and when we got back home she said,
"I like it a little bit now."
Ok, so maybe not enough hands on activities.
She loves arts and crafts. I love creating too. So why not dabble in it a little bit more? Time constraints is my biggest problem. As it is, I'm drained everyday teaching one kid at a time, one after the other.
I'm seriously thinking of ditching OHVA and doing it on my own. Sure, I have all those paperwork and research to do, but I guess I can start doing those now. Seems like we're going to be in Columbus for a little bit longer, now that we don't know when hubby's going to be done.
I stumbled across 'lapbooks' on Orlando Mama's blog. Delighted, I speed surfed through more websites that depict photos of actual lapbooks. Immediately, I applied it to our lessons.
Comically, I had went into the bathroom mulling over the problem of S's lack of exuberance. When I came out, I was all ready to employ the lapbook. Talk about 'conducive'.
I actually enjoyed myself watching them do the activities. Today, I woke up groggy and sleepy from lack of sleep. I told them that I was tired and might need a nap.
Then we started to work on Machu Picchu for S's history and we did the entries for the lapbook. I got so caught up in it that S said,
"I thought you were tired."
Me too. Nothing beats enjoying what you do I guess.
No wonder I went through my undergraduate years with a long face like S's. I guess now we know where she got it from, huh?
She can write well, but she doesn't like to.
"I don't like to think a lot," she says, much to my exasperation.
Okay, maybe I shouldn't press her if she doesn't like it.
Animals. She likes animals. We call her our 'animal expert'. When you have a question about an animal, go and ask S.
History. We have a problem with history.
"I don't like it," she said once, a long time ago.
Then we went on a field trip with OHVA to a museum, and when we got back home she said,
"I like it a little bit now."
Ok, so maybe not enough hands on activities.
She loves arts and crafts. I love creating too. So why not dabble in it a little bit more? Time constraints is my biggest problem. As it is, I'm drained everyday teaching one kid at a time, one after the other.
I'm seriously thinking of ditching OHVA and doing it on my own. Sure, I have all those paperwork and research to do, but I guess I can start doing those now. Seems like we're going to be in Columbus for a little bit longer, now that we don't know when hubby's going to be done.
I stumbled across 'lapbooks' on Orlando Mama's blog. Delighted, I speed surfed through more websites that depict photos of actual lapbooks. Immediately, I applied it to our lessons.
Comically, I had went into the bathroom mulling over the problem of S's lack of exuberance. When I came out, I was all ready to employ the lapbook. Talk about 'conducive'.
I actually enjoyed myself watching them do the activities. Today, I woke up groggy and sleepy from lack of sleep. I told them that I was tired and might need a nap.
Then we started to work on Machu Picchu for S's history and we did the entries for the lapbook. I got so caught up in it that S said,
"I thought you were tired."
Me too. Nothing beats enjoying what you do I guess.
No wonder I went through my undergraduate years with a long face like S's. I guess now we know where she got it from, huh?
Linking
Assalamualaikum,
I have added new links. I hope those that I have added don't mind being added. I can understand if you don't want to be linked for I have one blog I do not want to be linked anywhere, for privacy reasons. So if you do mind, feel free to tell me so. I totally understand. :)
I have added new links. I hope those that I have added don't mind being added. I can understand if you don't want to be linked for I have one blog I do not want to be linked anywhere, for privacy reasons. So if you do mind, feel free to tell me so. I totally understand. :)
Monday, March 27, 2006
Four, Just Four?
Elsa tagged me with this, much to my shock. No, I didn't actually expect it, Elsa. *grin*
Here goes, I guess:
Four jobs I have in my life:
only FOUR???!! *wide grin*
1. Kindergarten teacher
2. First grade teacher
3. Third grade teacher
4. Islamic teacher
Four Movies I can watch over and over:
1. Sound of Music (much to my husband's annoyance)
2. Annie
3. Heidi
4. Secret Garden (don't remember exactly which one, with which actors, but I just love the story)
Four TV shows I love to watch: (this is not a good 'four' for me, I'd rather have 'Four Books I love to read')
1. ER (the only one I don't want to miss, the others I can let go)
2. Anne of Green Gables (it's so beautiful!)
3. Little House on the Prairie (no cable but acquired through library DVDs)
4. Little Women(when they had it that is)
Four places I've lived in:
1. Ames, Iowa
Among all the places I've lived in in the United States, this is still the one I love the most. The crime rate is low, the masjid people are nice, and the grocery shopping doesn't eat up a lot of gas. To get from one end of the town to the other, it takes about ten or more minutes. I love the size of the town, though it would be rather dull for most single students. I love ISU too. My Alma matter.
2. Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
I've always lived in Kuala Lumpur. Even when we moved, we were still in Kuala Lumpur. I can't imagine living anywhere else but now, I can't think of the traffic jams and crowd without wincing.
3. Labu, Negeri Sembilan (boarding school)
I lived here five years. Surrounded by rubber and palm trees, it was some memorable five years. I consider myself somewhat on familiar terms with Seremban.
4. Athens, Georgia
We moved to Athens after living four years in Ames. It was a totally different place than Ames. I didn't like the place much but I LOVE the people. It's a small, tightly-knit Muslim community. I took my first Wilton Cake Decorating class there. I finished up here in Columbus. Started homeschooling here too under the guidance of sister Anisah. It was a very fortunate incident that I met here. It seemed as if we were destined to meet as I was mulling over Valentine activities my preschooler had to go through that day. Subhanallah, as we sat there in the library after picking up S from school, we met her and her children, five of them, homeschooled. Maybe Allah placed us in Athens just so I can learn about homeschooling.
Four places I've been on vacation to: (my favourites)
1. Oahu, Hawaii (honeymoon after 9 years of marriage, no kids)
Hubby was submitting an abstract for a conference in Honolulu. he told me that if I help him with the paper he might take me with him. Of course I jumped at the idea but reality check told me I couldn't possible go. Who would I leave the kids with? We couldn't possibly bring them either because the funding for the conference is less than $700, and summer is peak season for Hawaii. Somehow, someway a sister offered to babysit them for the length of time we were going to be in Hawaii. I left the kids with her with a heavy heart, not because I didn't trust her, but because I've never been apart from the kids since I gave birth to them. Suffice it to say, it was a wonderful 'honeymoon' albeit some problems getting hubby to pack on time. I almost didn't go out of stubbornness.
2. Ashville, Tennessee (first camping trip with the kids)
I'm not the camping type, but I went when invited by a friend for the kids' sake. Our camping site was nestled in a valley somewhere between Tennessee and North Carolina, in the Appalachian Mountain range. It was such a refreshing summer vacation for us, with waterfalls, bone-chilling mountain water in the streams we splashed in.
3. Cedar Points, Sandusky (first amusement park with the kids)
I entered the kids in the summer reading sweepstakes sponsored by a local TV station. We had to send in a card for every 5 books read. Of course, it goes without saying(if you know how much S reads) that we were bound to send in lots of those sweepstakes card on her behalf. She won third place, which was just the prize we were longing for: four tickets to Cedar Points! We paid only $10 for H because he wasn't tall enough. I'm so lucky I wasn't pregnant that year. We did a lot that summer.
4. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (first tag along on hubby's conference, along with kids)
Another one of hubby's conferences. We ALL tagged along this time because it was affordable since we were able to drive there. It was a long hazardous drive because it was winter. We blew one tire in Virginia while it was snowing, at night, with no cell phone. Alhamdulillah we got back home safe and sound biiznillah.
Four Places I'd rather Be in:
1. Jannah (ahhh...was just reading a description of Hell, black fire etc...nauzubillah)
2. Madeenah (they say we can still feel the hospitality of the Ansar and the aura of Sunnah)
I'd love to actually live here. Syeikh Yaser Birjas said especially in Ramadan, you feel the sunnah so deep around you. Everyone who goes to Hajj has expressed a longing to go back to Madinah. My mother said Madinah is nice and cleaner than Makkah. In the Quran Allah talks about the Ansar's hospitality, Subhanallah.
3. Makkah (the Holy Sanctuary, of course though maybe the people are less nice than in Madeenah?)
A true melting pot here I guess, with regards to the people. I can still remember Maqam Ibrahim during the umrah I tagged along on when I was ten. I can't forget how big the footprint was.
4. Oahu, Hawaii (it was a memorable honeymoon, what can I say?)
I didn't get to climb up Diamond Head, but witnessing a shahadah there was worth way more than looking at Honolulu from the top of Diamond Head. This deserves an entry of its own, but I ain't got time, yet.
Four of my Favorite food:
1. Malaysian food- Nasi lemak (Coconut rice with spicy gravy)
I love to have this for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
2. Indonesian food- Nasi Padang (can still remember those 'restaurants' in Sumatra)
I love the way they stack the plates of dishes to form a pyramid. On our frequent trips back to Sumatra, my father never fails to take us to Nasi Padang stalls.
3. Indonesian food- Bakso (meatball soup with noodles)
You go to Jakarta and this is what you MUST eat. Otherwise, you're missing out BIG time. I love it when they make the meatballs really big. An Indonesian friend gave me a recipe but I've never been able to mimic the likeness of those Bakso in Jakarta. In Malaysia, my father always takes us to Ajo's stall in Kampung Baru for his Bakso and Gado-gado.
4. Indonesian food- Gado-gado (salad drizzled with spicy peanut sauce)
I just LOVE this. My grandmother has instilled in me a love for vegetables when i was growing up. She always told me that if I eat my greens I would look youthful for a long time. I don't know if it was vanity or if I was just being nagged at constantly, but I ate my greens, even the ones I didn't like like tapioca leaves and pucuk paku. But, the way they were prepared made them somewhat edible to me. Now, I can't eat if there're no greens on my plate. I wonder if I can do the same to my kids?
If asked to list more, I'd list Malaysian and Indonesian food still. I have a stubborn Malay tongue.
Four Websites I visit daily:
1. Columbus Dawah Forum
2. AlMaghrib Forum
3. Hotmail
4. Yahoogroups
Four Victims to Do this tag:
1. Anggerik Merah
2. Nisa (if you drop by Nisa, you're IT! *grin*)
3. Kamalia
4. Eiseai
Here goes, I guess:
Four jobs I have in my life:
only FOUR???!! *wide grin*
1. Kindergarten teacher
2. First grade teacher
3. Third grade teacher
4. Islamic teacher
Four Movies I can watch over and over:
1. Sound of Music (much to my husband's annoyance)
2. Annie
3. Heidi
4. Secret Garden (don't remember exactly which one, with which actors, but I just love the story)
Four TV shows I love to watch: (this is not a good 'four' for me, I'd rather have 'Four Books I love to read')
1. ER (the only one I don't want to miss, the others I can let go)
2. Anne of Green Gables (it's so beautiful!)
3. Little House on the Prairie (no cable but acquired through library DVDs)
4. Little Women(when they had it that is)
Four places I've lived in:
1. Ames, Iowa
Among all the places I've lived in in the United States, this is still the one I love the most. The crime rate is low, the masjid people are nice, and the grocery shopping doesn't eat up a lot of gas. To get from one end of the town to the other, it takes about ten or more minutes. I love the size of the town, though it would be rather dull for most single students. I love ISU too. My Alma matter.
2. Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
I've always lived in Kuala Lumpur. Even when we moved, we were still in Kuala Lumpur. I can't imagine living anywhere else but now, I can't think of the traffic jams and crowd without wincing.
3. Labu, Negeri Sembilan (boarding school)
I lived here five years. Surrounded by rubber and palm trees, it was some memorable five years. I consider myself somewhat on familiar terms with Seremban.
4. Athens, Georgia
We moved to Athens after living four years in Ames. It was a totally different place than Ames. I didn't like the place much but I LOVE the people. It's a small, tightly-knit Muslim community. I took my first Wilton Cake Decorating class there. I finished up here in Columbus. Started homeschooling here too under the guidance of sister Anisah. It was a very fortunate incident that I met here. It seemed as if we were destined to meet as I was mulling over Valentine activities my preschooler had to go through that day. Subhanallah, as we sat there in the library after picking up S from school, we met her and her children, five of them, homeschooled. Maybe Allah placed us in Athens just so I can learn about homeschooling.
Four places I've been on vacation to: (my favourites)
1. Oahu, Hawaii (honeymoon after 9 years of marriage, no kids)
Hubby was submitting an abstract for a conference in Honolulu. he told me that if I help him with the paper he might take me with him. Of course I jumped at the idea but reality check told me I couldn't possible go. Who would I leave the kids with? We couldn't possibly bring them either because the funding for the conference is less than $700, and summer is peak season for Hawaii. Somehow, someway a sister offered to babysit them for the length of time we were going to be in Hawaii. I left the kids with her with a heavy heart, not because I didn't trust her, but because I've never been apart from the kids since I gave birth to them. Suffice it to say, it was a wonderful 'honeymoon' albeit some problems getting hubby to pack on time. I almost didn't go out of stubbornness.
2. Ashville, Tennessee (first camping trip with the kids)
I'm not the camping type, but I went when invited by a friend for the kids' sake. Our camping site was nestled in a valley somewhere between Tennessee and North Carolina, in the Appalachian Mountain range. It was such a refreshing summer vacation for us, with waterfalls, bone-chilling mountain water in the streams we splashed in.
3. Cedar Points, Sandusky (first amusement park with the kids)
I entered the kids in the summer reading sweepstakes sponsored by a local TV station. We had to send in a card for every 5 books read. Of course, it goes without saying(if you know how much S reads) that we were bound to send in lots of those sweepstakes card on her behalf. She won third place, which was just the prize we were longing for: four tickets to Cedar Points! We paid only $10 for H because he wasn't tall enough. I'm so lucky I wasn't pregnant that year. We did a lot that summer.
4. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (first tag along on hubby's conference, along with kids)
Another one of hubby's conferences. We ALL tagged along this time because it was affordable since we were able to drive there. It was a long hazardous drive because it was winter. We blew one tire in Virginia while it was snowing, at night, with no cell phone. Alhamdulillah we got back home safe and sound biiznillah.
Four Places I'd rather Be in:
1. Jannah (ahhh...was just reading a description of Hell, black fire etc...nauzubillah)
2. Madeenah (they say we can still feel the hospitality of the Ansar and the aura of Sunnah)
I'd love to actually live here. Syeikh Yaser Birjas said especially in Ramadan, you feel the sunnah so deep around you. Everyone who goes to Hajj has expressed a longing to go back to Madinah. My mother said Madinah is nice and cleaner than Makkah. In the Quran Allah talks about the Ansar's hospitality, Subhanallah.
3. Makkah (the Holy Sanctuary, of course though maybe the people are less nice than in Madeenah?)
A true melting pot here I guess, with regards to the people. I can still remember Maqam Ibrahim during the umrah I tagged along on when I was ten. I can't forget how big the footprint was.
4. Oahu, Hawaii (it was a memorable honeymoon, what can I say?)
I didn't get to climb up Diamond Head, but witnessing a shahadah there was worth way more than looking at Honolulu from the top of Diamond Head. This deserves an entry of its own, but I ain't got time, yet.
Four of my Favorite food:
1. Malaysian food- Nasi lemak (Coconut rice with spicy gravy)
I love to have this for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
2. Indonesian food- Nasi Padang (can still remember those 'restaurants' in Sumatra)
I love the way they stack the plates of dishes to form a pyramid. On our frequent trips back to Sumatra, my father never fails to take us to Nasi Padang stalls.
3. Indonesian food- Bakso (meatball soup with noodles)
You go to Jakarta and this is what you MUST eat. Otherwise, you're missing out BIG time. I love it when they make the meatballs really big. An Indonesian friend gave me a recipe but I've never been able to mimic the likeness of those Bakso in Jakarta. In Malaysia, my father always takes us to Ajo's stall in Kampung Baru for his Bakso and Gado-gado.
4. Indonesian food- Gado-gado (salad drizzled with spicy peanut sauce)
I just LOVE this. My grandmother has instilled in me a love for vegetables when i was growing up. She always told me that if I eat my greens I would look youthful for a long time. I don't know if it was vanity or if I was just being nagged at constantly, but I ate my greens, even the ones I didn't like like tapioca leaves and pucuk paku. But, the way they were prepared made them somewhat edible to me. Now, I can't eat if there're no greens on my plate. I wonder if I can do the same to my kids?
If asked to list more, I'd list Malaysian and Indonesian food still. I have a stubborn Malay tongue.
Four Websites I visit daily:
1. Columbus Dawah Forum
2. AlMaghrib Forum
3. Hotmail
4. Yahoogroups
Four Victims to Do this tag:
1. Anggerik Merah
2. Nisa (if you drop by Nisa, you're IT! *grin*)
3. Kamalia
4. Eiseai
Dam Display
By NDAM
The Arch dam is my favorite dam because it’s big. It’s good because it won’t flood. They get to control the water. It can make a lake. The good thing is, they get to swim. They can get to design their own dams. They get to skate if it’s winter.
It will flood on the other side. Making the dam is dangerous because it might be so hot and the water might already spray out. If somebody lives on the other side they might get flooded. The water might get so high that it will go over it and splatter.
The Arch dam is my favorite dam because it’s big. It’s good because it won’t flood. They get to control the water. It can make a lake. The good thing is, they get to swim. They can get to design their own dams. They get to skate if it’s winter.
It will flood on the other side. Making the dam is dangerous because it might be so hot and the water might already spray out. If somebody lives on the other side they might get flooded. The water might get so high that it will go over it and splatter.
This is Shakamaka town.
By H (dictated)
This is Shack-a-Macka Town.
By S
Friday, March 24, 2006
Prescription For Getting Along
"If they don't quarrel or fight, you need to get them a prescription," was the answer I received.
I had asked a sister if her children get along with each other now that they're older.
I grew up practically an only child. My half brothers were too young for me to fight with, though at times I think I actually stoked the fire because I needed the fight. So when it comes to my own children, I'm always at a loss of how to handle their bickerings with each other.
First of all, it just drives me crazy when they quarrel, especially when H repeatedly stomps all the way up the stairs and down. To make it worse, his tongue couldn't stop wagging. As he stomps, he lets out a string of complaints at which ever sister he is fuming at.
N seldom gets angry, but when she does, everybody should watch out! She stomps up the stairs too. As for S, she doesn't really do anything physical, well, not generally, but she mutters her dissatisfaction which at times, unfortunately do not escape my sharp ears. It's a wonder the stairs are still intact with all the rigorous stomping. You would think elephants live in our house the way the stairs get a beating every time someone gets all furious.
It was with great amusement and interest that I read an article in the February 2006 issue of Family Fun Magazine at the doctor's office while waiting for the nurse to call me for my ultrasound.
'Sibling Revelry!' is the title of the article and it lists 10 'family-tested' ways to help siblings get along. It was written by Leslie Garisto Pfaff and iluustrated by Lisa Perrett.
Below are my understanding of the article, paraphrased and reworded.
1. Have kids depend on each other.
This one insyaallah I already have in the works with my kids. Ever since they were young, they have been depending on each other. I think it probably fosters a lot of love between them as can be seen when they're asleep. S and N have never slept apart all this time and even now, they still sleep like they do when they were both toddlers, arms around each other to the point of sweating as if they were in 90F heat.
When H fell off his bike on the tar parking lot, I happened to be looking out the window from their room. To my ultimate surprise, I saw S jump off her bike to aid her little brother. She has always been sisterly towards N and H. When N was sick and throwing up, she would make her a card, sit beside her, stroke her forehead and even steady the bowl I had set up by N's side in case she started throwing up in her sleep.
Whenever H or N needed help, I always sent them off to S, so they already are relying on each other, Alhamdulillah.
2. Good names.
When they start calling each other names, we should step in and have them think of five good names or qualities for each other. I've read this somewhere else before and actually tried it with the kids, but just received more smart mouths. However, I'm not giving up yet. Maybe my angle was wrong. I need to try again.
So far, the names I've been hearing them call each other are 'original'. Alhamdulillah they don't cuss or curse. Makes me shiver with fright at the prospect of them learning all the cuss words at school.
3. Nice.
Posing the question, "What did you do that was nice today?" would make the kids think of the nice things they did. It would probably even make them consciously put an effort to do nice things in the future. I haven't tried this yet, but I think I will.
4. The calendar
This idea of listing down kind acts in their calendar is one that I have tried before but always fail to follow devoutly. With all the hustle and bustle, we didn't even have the time to look up the calendar to find out what nice things we should be doing today. Either I'm so disorganized or common sense rules. Sigh.
5. Baking together
Bakingis my forte, and throughout the years I have included the kids in my baking activities, though maybe not as much as I should. They now know that they shouldn't fight when baking because I would then immediately chuck them out of the kitchen. That's how much they want to bake. So I guess this works in getting them to learn to take turns.
6. Special Plate
Give a child a special plate to eat from every time s/he does something good for her/his sibling. I've never done this before, but since we all eat off of one big plate, I don't know how to incorporate this. Maybe I can do this for their snacks or special meals, though when I do a quick reality check, this just raises up a red flag for me. Just more things to do.
7. Writing
Have each child write something good about her/his sibling. I haven't tried this either but maybe it's time I do.
8. Pseudo Camping
Let them decide TOGETHER what they want to do together. For example they can decide what movie to watch together. They're already doing this, of course with some disagreements but in the end, they do end up doing something together.
9. The Jar
Putting a quarter in a jar when we catch them getting along. I've done this with marbles but I found out I couldn't really keep up with all their 'good behavior'.
We'll see.
10. Write it down
Instead of verbalising their disagreements and dissatisfaction with each other, it's encouraged that they write it down. This way it will make them think and in the process, cool them down. There's something very compelling in this one. S already uses it. However, I think I would have a problem with H, at least right now.
People always say to me, "Your children are so well behaved," or "Your kids are so obedient," which always manages to send me into silent shock every time. The first time I received those was from my neighbor whom the kids always talk to. She has offered the kids snacks like cookies many times, but the kids always manage to politely refure and insist that they need to have me check the ingredients. As for the well behaved part, I'm not so sure, but I guess at times you need outsider insight to make you appreciate what you have.
I had asked a sister if her children get along with each other now that they're older.
I grew up practically an only child. My half brothers were too young for me to fight with, though at times I think I actually stoked the fire because I needed the fight. So when it comes to my own children, I'm always at a loss of how to handle their bickerings with each other.
First of all, it just drives me crazy when they quarrel, especially when H repeatedly stomps all the way up the stairs and down. To make it worse, his tongue couldn't stop wagging. As he stomps, he lets out a string of complaints at which ever sister he is fuming at.
N seldom gets angry, but when she does, everybody should watch out! She stomps up the stairs too. As for S, she doesn't really do anything physical, well, not generally, but she mutters her dissatisfaction which at times, unfortunately do not escape my sharp ears. It's a wonder the stairs are still intact with all the rigorous stomping. You would think elephants live in our house the way the stairs get a beating every time someone gets all furious.
It was with great amusement and interest that I read an article in the February 2006 issue of Family Fun Magazine at the doctor's office while waiting for the nurse to call me for my ultrasound.
'Sibling Revelry!' is the title of the article and it lists 10 'family-tested' ways to help siblings get along. It was written by Leslie Garisto Pfaff and iluustrated by Lisa Perrett.
Below are my understanding of the article, paraphrased and reworded.
1. Have kids depend on each other.
This one insyaallah I already have in the works with my kids. Ever since they were young, they have been depending on each other. I think it probably fosters a lot of love between them as can be seen when they're asleep. S and N have never slept apart all this time and even now, they still sleep like they do when they were both toddlers, arms around each other to the point of sweating as if they were in 90F heat.
When H fell off his bike on the tar parking lot, I happened to be looking out the window from their room. To my ultimate surprise, I saw S jump off her bike to aid her little brother. She has always been sisterly towards N and H. When N was sick and throwing up, she would make her a card, sit beside her, stroke her forehead and even steady the bowl I had set up by N's side in case she started throwing up in her sleep.
Whenever H or N needed help, I always sent them off to S, so they already are relying on each other, Alhamdulillah.
2. Good names.
When they start calling each other names, we should step in and have them think of five good names or qualities for each other. I've read this somewhere else before and actually tried it with the kids, but just received more smart mouths. However, I'm not giving up yet. Maybe my angle was wrong. I need to try again.
So far, the names I've been hearing them call each other are 'original'. Alhamdulillah they don't cuss or curse. Makes me shiver with fright at the prospect of them learning all the cuss words at school.
3. Nice.
Posing the question, "What did you do that was nice today?" would make the kids think of the nice things they did. It would probably even make them consciously put an effort to do nice things in the future. I haven't tried this yet, but I think I will.
4. The calendar
This idea of listing down kind acts in their calendar is one that I have tried before but always fail to follow devoutly. With all the hustle and bustle, we didn't even have the time to look up the calendar to find out what nice things we should be doing today. Either I'm so disorganized or common sense rules. Sigh.
5. Baking together
Bakingis my forte, and throughout the years I have included the kids in my baking activities, though maybe not as much as I should. They now know that they shouldn't fight when baking because I would then immediately chuck them out of the kitchen. That's how much they want to bake. So I guess this works in getting them to learn to take turns.
6. Special Plate
Give a child a special plate to eat from every time s/he does something good for her/his sibling. I've never done this before, but since we all eat off of one big plate, I don't know how to incorporate this. Maybe I can do this for their snacks or special meals, though when I do a quick reality check, this just raises up a red flag for me. Just more things to do.
7. Writing
Have each child write something good about her/his sibling. I haven't tried this either but maybe it's time I do.
8. Pseudo Camping
Let them decide TOGETHER what they want to do together. For example they can decide what movie to watch together. They're already doing this, of course with some disagreements but in the end, they do end up doing something together.
9. The Jar
Putting a quarter in a jar when we catch them getting along. I've done this with marbles but I found out I couldn't really keep up with all their 'good behavior'.
We'll see.
10. Write it down
Instead of verbalising their disagreements and dissatisfaction with each other, it's encouraged that they write it down. This way it will make them think and in the process, cool them down. There's something very compelling in this one. S already uses it. However, I think I would have a problem with H, at least right now.
People always say to me, "Your children are so well behaved," or "Your kids are so obedient," which always manages to send me into silent shock every time. The first time I received those was from my neighbor whom the kids always talk to. She has offered the kids snacks like cookies many times, but the kids always manage to politely refure and insist that they need to have me check the ingredients. As for the well behaved part, I'm not so sure, but I guess at times you need outsider insight to make you appreciate what you have.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Dam Day
Even though I need routines in my life, there are times when I just abhor it. Today is such a day. So I deviated, and instead of the normal "Ok kids, get your books on the table, open your math books!" I said, "Kids! Today we're going to watch this thing about dams."
A resounding "Yay!" reverberated throughout the house. Anything out of the ordinary I guess. I remember how much I used to savor 'extraordinary' school days. Anything to get out of the dull repetitive expected routine of sitting in class. From the innocent primary years up to the hormone-ravaging secondary years. The yearning for something to happen lingered on. So I totally understand how they feel.
In fact, home schooling shouldn't be constricting. But it shouldn't be too 'hippie' either. There should be both drill and play. With OHVA, I personally tend to get 'drilly' because there is so much pressure to finish the syllabus on time. Instead of enjoying the lessons, I grew to dread the lessons especially 1st and 2nd grade language arts, where I have to keep on referring to the OLS(Online School) to make sure I cover everything in that particular lesson. As I became more attuned to the way OHVA works, I started to simplify the process and read the required reading and do the Grammar part on my own time. The only problem that persists is when I need to mark 'done' on each lesson. It starts to get confusing, but in order to keep my sanity, I ignore the technical details and just make sure the objectives are reached.
I declare today to be 'Dam Day'. I wasn't sure how long the kids would be able to watch the documentary, because I have seen them fidgeting and snickering before. They grew up on documentaries, mostly on animals. I simply refused to drown them in Nickelodeon or even PBS cartoons just because I think it beneficial that they be more attuned to non fiction documentaries. I don't know if that practice has an impact at all, because I don't see my kids as being particularly partial to documentaries. However, I do think they are able to glean at least a little bit of information from the documentaries.
As we watched, I interjected every now and then, just to make sure their interest stays above the 'danger' level. Only H seemed to lose interest. I think he might have a little bit of hubby's slight ADD. He is terribly more vocal nowadays. My poor ears.
I didn't have any specific plans for this lesson. I just thought I would go along with whatever comes up. Alhamdulillah, we ended up doing something the kids seemed to love. After the show, I went on the website to see what I could do with the kids.
There were lots. We had fun at the Shapes Lab. From there, we explored the other labs and I had the kids each propose a solution to the weak structures we encountered. Their little engineering minds got to work. H glowed with delight. S poured forth her effort and actually came up with some pretty good solutions. N seemed to falter. Her strength might not be in engineering.
The Dam Challenge was fun too. Most of their proposed solution were right on target, except for the salmon one. Even I was stumped.
"Ok, now what we're going to do is, make up our own little town."
"Let's pick a name," I said.
"Shack-a Macka!" H shouted.
So Shack-a-Macka Town it is.
"It has a river flowing through it, let's name the river," I said, while drawing the town on our white board.
"N, you name it. Each of you will get to name a thing," I continued.
She paused and said,
"Little Atta."
"Ok, how do you spell 'Atta'?"
"A T T A," she said.
So Little Atta River it is.
"Now the river keeps flooding, so we need a solution. Give me a solution," I said.
"Make a channel to direct the river somewhere else and move the houses," said S.
A pretty good solution, but I was looking for the DAM. So I prompted them again.
"Oh! Oh! I know! DAM! DAM!" yelled H.
A dam appeared in our little town.
"S, you name the dam," I said.
S was never good with naming anything, so she delegated the job to N & H. H came up with 'The Dam of Looseness' to which we all laughed, and N came up with 'The Notah Dam'. S chose N's. So the Notah Dam it is.
Next assignment : "Choose one of the four types of dams we learned about, and design it for our Shack-a-Macka Town. Then write why you chose that dam. Then write about how dams are good and how they are bad."
Off they went to the computers painting away.
I learned something today along with them : the 4 types of dams.
Arch Dam, Embankment Dam, Buttress Dam and Gravity Dam. Arch and Embankment are my favorites.
This is why I love homeschooling. What a dam good day!
A resounding "Yay!" reverberated throughout the house. Anything out of the ordinary I guess. I remember how much I used to savor 'extraordinary' school days. Anything to get out of the dull repetitive expected routine of sitting in class. From the innocent primary years up to the hormone-ravaging secondary years. The yearning for something to happen lingered on. So I totally understand how they feel.
In fact, home schooling shouldn't be constricting. But it shouldn't be too 'hippie' either. There should be both drill and play. With OHVA, I personally tend to get 'drilly' because there is so much pressure to finish the syllabus on time. Instead of enjoying the lessons, I grew to dread the lessons especially 1st and 2nd grade language arts, where I have to keep on referring to the OLS(Online School) to make sure I cover everything in that particular lesson. As I became more attuned to the way OHVA works, I started to simplify the process and read the required reading and do the Grammar part on my own time. The only problem that persists is when I need to mark 'done' on each lesson. It starts to get confusing, but in order to keep my sanity, I ignore the technical details and just make sure the objectives are reached.
I declare today to be 'Dam Day'. I wasn't sure how long the kids would be able to watch the documentary, because I have seen them fidgeting and snickering before. They grew up on documentaries, mostly on animals. I simply refused to drown them in Nickelodeon or even PBS cartoons just because I think it beneficial that they be more attuned to non fiction documentaries. I don't know if that practice has an impact at all, because I don't see my kids as being particularly partial to documentaries. However, I do think they are able to glean at least a little bit of information from the documentaries.
As we watched, I interjected every now and then, just to make sure their interest stays above the 'danger' level. Only H seemed to lose interest. I think he might have a little bit of hubby's slight ADD. He is terribly more vocal nowadays. My poor ears.
I didn't have any specific plans for this lesson. I just thought I would go along with whatever comes up. Alhamdulillah, we ended up doing something the kids seemed to love. After the show, I went on the website to see what I could do with the kids.
There were lots. We had fun at the Shapes Lab. From there, we explored the other labs and I had the kids each propose a solution to the weak structures we encountered. Their little engineering minds got to work. H glowed with delight. S poured forth her effort and actually came up with some pretty good solutions. N seemed to falter. Her strength might not be in engineering.
The Dam Challenge was fun too. Most of their proposed solution were right on target, except for the salmon one. Even I was stumped.
"Ok, now what we're going to do is, make up our own little town."
"Let's pick a name," I said.
"Shack-a Macka!" H shouted.
So Shack-a-Macka Town it is.
"It has a river flowing through it, let's name the river," I said, while drawing the town on our white board.
"N, you name it. Each of you will get to name a thing," I continued.
She paused and said,
"Little Atta."
"Ok, how do you spell 'Atta'?"
"A T T A," she said.
So Little Atta River it is.
"Now the river keeps flooding, so we need a solution. Give me a solution," I said.
"Make a channel to direct the river somewhere else and move the houses," said S.
A pretty good solution, but I was looking for the DAM. So I prompted them again.
"Oh! Oh! I know! DAM! DAM!" yelled H.
A dam appeared in our little town.
"S, you name the dam," I said.
S was never good with naming anything, so she delegated the job to N & H. H came up with 'The Dam of Looseness' to which we all laughed, and N came up with 'The Notah Dam'. S chose N's. So the Notah Dam it is.
Next assignment : "Choose one of the four types of dams we learned about, and design it for our Shack-a-Macka Town. Then write why you chose that dam. Then write about how dams are good and how they are bad."
Off they went to the computers painting away.
I learned something today along with them : the 4 types of dams.
Arch Dam, Embankment Dam, Buttress Dam and Gravity Dam. Arch and Embankment are my favorites.
This is why I love homeschooling. What a dam good day!
Friday, March 17, 2006
Tissue
"Make dua for me okay. I'm gonna see the doctor tomorrow to see if there's anything left in my tummy. Make dua that everything is clear so they don't have to suck it out."
That was last night.
Today:
"So ummi, did they really suck out your bum?"
I laughed.
"No."
"So what'd they do?"
"There's still some tissue in it."
"You ate TISSUE?!!!"
I was crying because I had thought hubby wouldn't be here with me for the next ultrasound visit on Monday, and this was what cheered me up.
I ate tissue indeed. I didn't even explain to him. Will have to get one of those diagrams to explain to them what actually happened with this pregnancy. I ate tissue. H oh H. I'll really miss you when you grow up.
That was last night.
Today:
"So ummi, did they really suck out your bum?"
I laughed.
"No."
"So what'd they do?"
"There's still some tissue in it."
"You ate TISSUE?!!!"
I was crying because I had thought hubby wouldn't be here with me for the next ultrasound visit on Monday, and this was what cheered me up.
I ate tissue indeed. I didn't even explain to him. Will have to get one of those diagrams to explain to them what actually happened with this pregnancy. I ate tissue. H oh H. I'll really miss you when you grow up.
I Don't Know What It's Called
I was on the couch. Hubby was on the floor. Suddenly we heard a very familiar howl outside, on the back porch. At first we ignored it, but it grew louder and louder. Thinking that he might be hurt, I urged hubby to go and check it out.
H was howling, screaming, bawling in the loudest manner possible facing A & M, two of his older friends he was apparently playing with before he turned into a howling monkey.
It was evident after a while that he was horribly furious(and that is an uderstatement) at those two boys, who were mounted on their bikes at a safe distance, looking on at the scene unfolding before them. With his brown kufi on his head, and angry tears running down his face, H seemed very much out of control. I've seen him furious at his sisters but he was never that furious. This was a new level altogether.
Hubby took hold of his hand and tried to pull him inside the house. He resisted.
"It's ok. You're good. You didn't hit nobody," he said to H. He kept on howling and simply refused to be brought inside.
I gestured for him to come in. In that 'mother-child' universal language, I told him to come inside and tell me what happened. He relented somewhat but ended up on the kitched floor still bawling and howling. I left him, sat on the couch and signalled for him to come to me again. He came.
"What happened?"
With great difficulty amidst his loud uncontrollable sobs, he told me.
'A' had called him a 'crybaby'. They were playing basketball and H was counting. 'A' said he counted wrong. H persisted that he counted right and that A had counted wrong. Now this is funny because 'A' is 10 years old and H is only 6, yet I know how stubborn my son can be insisting that he's right and other people are wrong.
I asked him what happened step by step and he told me, soon losing his sobs.
"What did you do when A said you counted wrong? Did you shout like you did in front of Auntie M's house?"
He nodded.
"Then what did you do?"
He paused. Then he said,
"I don't know what it's called!"
And resorted to crying again. I couldn't help giggling. That stoked up his anger even more.
I know what it's called, by the way. It's called 'kindergartener tantrum'.
After an extensive investigation, I learned that he had got on his bicycle and rode home in anger after bawling. Hid in the bush to hide from the two boys who were coming after him. They had come after him only to witness his outburst which must have seemed so 'out of this world'. 'A' had apparently called M to watch this little crybaby yell his brains out. That made H even madder. So when he got home, on our back porch, not being able to shoo the two boys away, he did the only thing he knew to do: bawl and scream. It was almost a blood curling continuous scream.
Later on he told me, "I felt like my brains were almost bursting, that my head was shaking and my ketai* almost fell off my head."
* ketai comes from the word ketayap which is a Malay word for kufi. The kids practically invented that word and we have used it ever since.
For a disturbing while I wondered if it was at all healthy for him to submit to such screaming in anger. However, hubby's words "You didn't hurt nobody," struck me.
I repeatedly asked H, "Did you say any bad words to them? Did you hit them?"
He shook his head to both. I can only pray he's telling the truth. I believe him though.
Alhamdulillah he's only screaming his brains out, and not actually giving anyone a bloody nose or letting out a string or unmentionables. Alhamdulillah.
However, he's only 6. There're more years to go. I really need to protect them from picking up those bad behaviors, especially the unmentionables.
He spent the rest of the afternoon asking us what animals we can find in Malaysia. After each answer, he would dash upstairs only to come down again and ask for another one. Meanwhile, his two sisters, curiosity piqued by what just happened, went outside to play.
I still am nervous about raising boys. Don't know a thing about it. That's my stupid reason for not agreeing to the circumcision right after he was born: I was afraid to take care of his 'birdie'. He finally was circumcised at five years old. Alhamdulillah.
Boys. I have only one. At least a living one. I hope I'll raise him right insyaallah.
The Trojan War
This is why I hate doing history with them. There are so many Greek/Roman shirk materials. I tried going around them but I still have to present them. In the end I just said,
"You have to know these stuff, because there are so many Greek and Roman stuff around us."
The kids know how much I hate doing those kind of stuff with them, where I have to present them with the stories of Greek and Roman gods and goddesses and one such story was the one that they claimed led to the Trojan War. Hera, Athena, Aphrodite and Paris and the apple.
I kept stalling the history lessons just because I had no mood to go through it but of course eventually we still have to. So today, I noticed that the next lesson was The Trojan War. I skipped right past the shirk stuff and went straight to the mechanics of the War, which of course still revolves around the goddesses. It's part of their history. There's no way of eliminating it. The best I could tell the kids was,
"You have to know this because if you don't, and they tell you about it, you MIGHT believe it."
Nauzubillah.
Better have it presented by me than a non Muslim teacher, who would most probably make the goddesses and gods seems appealing and nothing to be all worked up about. That's one thing that bothers me about public school. To have the teachers teach your children values and concepts that might shake their foundations. Of course, the public schools are not supposed to touch anything religious in their curiculum, but that leads to another problem. With the approach they're taking in teaching science, I would very well say that they're trying to produce atheists.
How can you NOT relate creations to a creator. How can you not marvel at the greatness of the Creator when learning about science? How can you disassociate religion from creations? How can there be such a division such as secular and religious in the first place? Islam is the way of life.
From manners related to relieiving yourself, to sleeping, Islam hands out basically a manual for living. How can we draw a definite line separating what is deemed secular and religious? Humans are just looking for trouble, when there's enough trouble in the world already.
Anyway, at least we're going somewhere with this Trojan War thing. May Allah protect their Aqeedah. Ameen.
"You have to know these stuff, because there are so many Greek and Roman stuff around us."
The kids know how much I hate doing those kind of stuff with them, where I have to present them with the stories of Greek and Roman gods and goddesses and one such story was the one that they claimed led to the Trojan War. Hera, Athena, Aphrodite and Paris and the apple.
I kept stalling the history lessons just because I had no mood to go through it but of course eventually we still have to. So today, I noticed that the next lesson was The Trojan War. I skipped right past the shirk stuff and went straight to the mechanics of the War, which of course still revolves around the goddesses. It's part of their history. There's no way of eliminating it. The best I could tell the kids was,
"You have to know this because if you don't, and they tell you about it, you MIGHT believe it."
Nauzubillah.
Better have it presented by me than a non Muslim teacher, who would most probably make the goddesses and gods seems appealing and nothing to be all worked up about. That's one thing that bothers me about public school. To have the teachers teach your children values and concepts that might shake their foundations. Of course, the public schools are not supposed to touch anything religious in their curiculum, but that leads to another problem. With the approach they're taking in teaching science, I would very well say that they're trying to produce atheists.
How can you NOT relate creations to a creator. How can you not marvel at the greatness of the Creator when learning about science? How can you disassociate religion from creations? How can there be such a division such as secular and religious in the first place? Islam is the way of life.
From manners related to relieiving yourself, to sleeping, Islam hands out basically a manual for living. How can we draw a definite line separating what is deemed secular and religious? Humans are just looking for trouble, when there's enough trouble in the world already.
Anyway, at least we're going somewhere with this Trojan War thing. May Allah protect their Aqeedah. Ameen.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Peek Into Spring
I can hardly wait for spring, which has yet to come. My hyacinths are already sprouting. Fifteen of them altogether, clustered on the patch of soil next to our doorstep right under our living room windows. Thinking I might never live to actually plant bulbs and see them grow, I grabbed a box of hyacinth bulb at Aldi last fall, and planted them with S. S loves gardening too. In fact, she's a pretty good little gardener. She actually planted the annuals we had last summer.What do you expect when you didn't have winter in winter, but to have a belated definite dose of it in spring? We were frolicking in exceptionally warm weather in January, when it should have been like this:
So now we're merely getting what we should have been getting two months back. Alas, the weather pattern all over the globe has been going berserk. Yellow snow in Korea. Snow in Arizona. Snow in ARIZONA?!! Subhanallah. Maybe we're in for something unexpected.
Unfortunately, they have cut down all the crab apple trees in our apartment complex, for reasons I can only attribute to disease. They not only chopped it, but they ground it up all the way to the roots leaving only ashes of what used to be hefty trunks and boughs the kids would climb.
So all the beautiful crab apple trees they used to climb are all now gone. No longer will I see the pink tree in the backyard everytime I draw my blinds.
I have fond memories of that particular tree. I have seen it sprouting bright pink flowers in the middle of fall. I couldn't help chuckling at its apparent confusion. It was a nice sight to see in fall though. Bright colors amidst earthly splotches of gold and red.
Blame it on the Indian summer we get every now and then. All the trees had started shedding their leaves, getting ready for the harsh weather of winter, when suddenly, Allah gave us warmth that was unusual in that time of the year. As programmed, the naked trees started to sprout buds which later bloomed into fresh, sweet smelling flowers. Unfortunately they died when our Indian summer left us to shrivel in the creeping cold.
I have to say that spring is my favorite season. Bulbs are my favorite flowers. The first time I set foot in the United States, it was winter, crazy blizzardy winter. However, as S grew bigger inside me, and the frost made way for the fresh breath of spring air, my steps lightened and I actually looked forward going to classes. Just because; I will get to walk past the triangle bed of tulips, bobbing in waves in the light spring breeze, deep, rich purple bonsais gracefully posing on the sidewalks. They're called eastern redbuds ( I found this out by googling last spring).
However, the thing I most looked forward to was sauntering into Beardshear Hall for their annual bulb sale.I still can't decide which one is my favorite bulb: daffodil, tulip or hyacinth. The first I bought was red tulips, the first I tried planting is hyacinth, which I have yet to see bloom into fragrant clusters of pastels. As for daffodil, I just can't imagine spring without them, they grow practically everywhere! Flanking highways, byways, roadsides, you can say: "They're EVERYWHERE!"
The four seasons present a great lesson plan in itself. Collect leaves in fall and make a scrapbook out of them while learning about what kind of trees they're from. Scrutinize buds in spring and observe what kind of fruits those flowers will leave behind.
I would never have actually cared about trees, except that I can't help admiring the beautiful creations around me. It's a real pleasure having these little people to share this beauty with, and learning along with them. If it were not for them, I might have never known the names of these trees I drool over every spring.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Patience
Surah Al-Baqarah(2:153, 155-157)
153. O you who believe! Seek help in patience and As-Salât (the prayer). Truly! Allâh is with As-Sâbirin (the patient ones, etc.).
155. And certainly, We shall test you with something of fear, hunger, loss of wealth, lives and fruits, but give glad tidings to As-Sâbirin (the patient ones, etc.).
156. Who, when afflicted with calamity, say: "Truly! To Allâh we belong and truly, to Him we shall return."
157. They are those on whom are the Salawât (i.e. blessings, etc.) (i.e. who are blessed and will be forgiven) from their Lord, and (they are those who) receive His Mercy, and it is they who are the guided-ones.
S and I came across these ayats today in our daily Quran recitation, which struck a chord in me due to recent happenings in my life. The subject matter, obviously, is patience.
The first thing that sprang to my mind when the word is mentioned is patience with regard to getting angry and handling tragedies. How we would be enraptured in awe for someone who perseveres in the face of calamities, giving that person our utmost respect with regard to their steadfastness in staying sane and in control of their predicament. However, that is merely the first base of a treacherous climb up the mountain of eeman, for patience is very closely, in fact, directly related to eeman.
According to Tafsir Ibn Kathir, there are three types of patience mentioned in the Quran.
1. Patience when a calamity strikes
17. "O my son! AqimisSalât (perform AsSalât), enjoin (people) for AlMa'rûf (Islâmic Monotheism and all that is good), and forbid (people) from AlMunkar (i.e. disbelief in the Oneness of Allâh, polytheism of all kinds and all that is evil and bad), and bear with patience whatever befall you. Verily! These are some of the important commandments ordered by Allâh with no exemption. Luqman (31:17)
2. Patience in abstaining from doing forbidden things
24. "Salâmun 'Alaikum (peace be upon you) for that you persevered in patience! Excellent indeed is the final home!" Ar-Ra'd(13:24)
3. Patience in maintaining constant worship of Allah
132. And enjoin As-Salât (the prayer) on your family, and be patient in offering them [i.e. the Salât (prayers)]. We ask not of you a provision (i.e. to give Us something: money, etc.); We provide for you. And the good end (i.e. Paradise) is for the Muttaqûn (pious - see V.2:2). Taha (20:132)
Being the first pitstop, where the altitude have not yet affected one's breathing, the first type of patience is the easiest to manufacture. When we lose a loved one or our wealth, life goes on and time gradually eases the pain. Sooner or later, we'll most probably get over it. Of course, a small dose of eeman would help a lot. The absence of it would most likely get a person to blame Allah for inflicting such pain on his/her person. Nauzubillah.
Patience in abstaining from doing forbidden things, the second type, is a little bit more difficult to extract from ourselves. The altitude here is a little bit too much such that we're reduced to visible symptoms in our climb. Vomitting, headaches, and giving up would be normal symptoms. We can see that in our society today: the culture of dating and courting. Not being able to have a boyfriend or girlfriend would probably drive most youths out of their minds. It would be a life not worth living anymore.
Imagine trying to not listen to music when we're so used to it. I still remember the time when I trained myself to stop listening to music. I used to love listening to Boyz II Men, Color Me Badd and Mariah Carey, among other R&B. They even had sentimental values to me, which made it that much harder to let go. When I was pregnant with N, I remember singing along to the radio while cooking. It was at that particular time too, that I forced myself to forgo listening to music. In the process, I would keep catching myself singing or at least humming a familiar song. Oh, we all know how a tune can get stuck in our head for so long that even when we don't realize it, we would be humming the stupid song for days on end. That's how difficult it was. Eventually though, I managed to overcome it, and now, I don't voluntarily listen to music anymore, though I have to admit, the urge strikes me every now and again.
Alhamdulillah, due to a short circuit in my memory, the names of rock bands and singers are no longer in my head, which at times forced me to badger my husband when a familiar song blared on the TV while we are channel flipping. He would get a kick out of not satisfying my enquiry by refusing me the information. Reduced to begging, I would implore for him to at least give me a clue, to which he would say,
"Why bother? It wouldn't do you any good."
Yes. Why do I even bother? Patience #2 running low I suppose.
Patience in maintaining constant worship of Allah. Let's just take the example of prayer for this one. We pray five times a day, but do we pray five times a day with the same vigor each time? Do we even have enough vigor to qualify us for a full A on a single prayer? That's not taking into account the issue of concentration in prayer yet, and we're already plummeting to the depths of low scores for not having sufficient vigor in rushing to perform our salat. This is just the fard prayer, not even the extra prayers, which are essential in backing up these fard prayers that we are surely not getting full marks for. If that doesn't make my case, I don't think it's even worth going into other examples to depict this third type of patience we're talking about. Not many people can reach the top anyway.
So, where am I going with this, you may wonder. Inna lillaahi wa inna ilaihi raa'jioon, is what we're supposed to say when calamity strikes us. We're supposed to seek help in patience and prayer. In the end, it's the ones who are patient who will be compensated generously by the Lord of the 'Alameen.
Surah Yusuf was revealed after 'The Year of Sorrow' where Khadijah and Abu Talib passed away, in order to boost up Rasulullah SAW's morale. Naturally he was feeling blue after all the Muslims had to go through after being boycotted for three years by the Quraisy. When his son Ibrahim died, Abu Jahl shunned him by saying that he's the one that is cut off, meaning his sons keep dying, leaving him with no heir. Allah then revealed Surah Al-Kauthar. There were many occasions where Allah supported his prophet in times of sorrow and frustration, reminding him that there were those before him who had gone through major struggles and ended up as the winners, like Prophet Yusuf, Prophet Ayub etc.
In reflecting this issue upon myself, I would say that I have it easy, alhamdulillah. Nevertheless, as did occur in a conversation I had with a dear friend,
"As we go through life, we'll see more stuff than we can ever imagine."
We concluded that life is not life until we see things that disturb us, or have them happen to us eventually. Diseases, death, conflicts that lead to major changes in relationships: these are all things that we fear in life. We would like for life to either remain the same until the day we die, or be better, but the fact of life is, you will never go through it without coming upon a bump along the way. Smooth sailing is just not reality. Your surfboard will eventually reach shallow water or run out of waves, tumbling you headlong into the waters. Your energy will eventually be depleted, causing you to cruise into a little street along your bike route. Your car will finally run out of gas, forcing you to stop at a gas station.
On the other hand, were it not for the shallow water of lack of waves, you might have surfed all the way to Antartica and end up like Robert F. Scott. Were it not for your depleted muscle power, you might have missed that nice little bakery in that little street, with cream puffs that are just to die for. Were it not for the gas running out, you might not have found out that you have an unknown brake problem, or, have your backseat soiled by your preschooler who couldn't 'hold it' any longer.
In other words, these bumps and thorns we face in our lives are actually blessings in disguise. We make it into what we want to make it. That's how we mature. That's how we gain wisdom. And that's how we live life. Life is not worth living without all these bumps and obstacles because then, Jannah would not mean as much. A money well earned is worth more than money falling from the sky.
So where are we in our climb up the mountain of eeman? Are we stuck at the base camp, not having the drive to go past it, or are we ascending beyond it, despite the increasing altitude threatening to rob us of our very existence?
153. O you who believe! Seek help in patience and As-Salât (the prayer). Truly! Allâh is with As-Sâbirin (the patient ones, etc.).
155. And certainly, We shall test you with something of fear, hunger, loss of wealth, lives and fruits, but give glad tidings to As-Sâbirin (the patient ones, etc.).
156. Who, when afflicted with calamity, say: "Truly! To Allâh we belong and truly, to Him we shall return."
157. They are those on whom are the Salawât (i.e. blessings, etc.) (i.e. who are blessed and will be forgiven) from their Lord, and (they are those who) receive His Mercy, and it is they who are the guided-ones.
S and I came across these ayats today in our daily Quran recitation, which struck a chord in me due to recent happenings in my life. The subject matter, obviously, is patience.
The first thing that sprang to my mind when the word is mentioned is patience with regard to getting angry and handling tragedies. How we would be enraptured in awe for someone who perseveres in the face of calamities, giving that person our utmost respect with regard to their steadfastness in staying sane and in control of their predicament. However, that is merely the first base of a treacherous climb up the mountain of eeman, for patience is very closely, in fact, directly related to eeman.
According to Tafsir Ibn Kathir, there are three types of patience mentioned in the Quran.
1. Patience when a calamity strikes
17. "O my son! AqimisSalât (perform AsSalât), enjoin (people) for AlMa'rûf (Islâmic Monotheism and all that is good), and forbid (people) from AlMunkar (i.e. disbelief in the Oneness of Allâh, polytheism of all kinds and all that is evil and bad), and bear with patience whatever befall you. Verily! These are some of the important commandments ordered by Allâh with no exemption. Luqman (31:17)
2. Patience in abstaining from doing forbidden things
24. "Salâmun 'Alaikum (peace be upon you) for that you persevered in patience! Excellent indeed is the final home!" Ar-Ra'd(13:24)
3. Patience in maintaining constant worship of Allah
132. And enjoin As-Salât (the prayer) on your family, and be patient in offering them [i.e. the Salât (prayers)]. We ask not of you a provision (i.e. to give Us something: money, etc.); We provide for you. And the good end (i.e. Paradise) is for the Muttaqûn (pious - see V.2:2). Taha (20:132)
Being the first pitstop, where the altitude have not yet affected one's breathing, the first type of patience is the easiest to manufacture. When we lose a loved one or our wealth, life goes on and time gradually eases the pain. Sooner or later, we'll most probably get over it. Of course, a small dose of eeman would help a lot. The absence of it would most likely get a person to blame Allah for inflicting such pain on his/her person. Nauzubillah.
Patience in abstaining from doing forbidden things, the second type, is a little bit more difficult to extract from ourselves. The altitude here is a little bit too much such that we're reduced to visible symptoms in our climb. Vomitting, headaches, and giving up would be normal symptoms. We can see that in our society today: the culture of dating and courting. Not being able to have a boyfriend or girlfriend would probably drive most youths out of their minds. It would be a life not worth living anymore.
Imagine trying to not listen to music when we're so used to it. I still remember the time when I trained myself to stop listening to music. I used to love listening to Boyz II Men, Color Me Badd and Mariah Carey, among other R&B. They even had sentimental values to me, which made it that much harder to let go. When I was pregnant with N, I remember singing along to the radio while cooking. It was at that particular time too, that I forced myself to forgo listening to music. In the process, I would keep catching myself singing or at least humming a familiar song. Oh, we all know how a tune can get stuck in our head for so long that even when we don't realize it, we would be humming the stupid song for days on end. That's how difficult it was. Eventually though, I managed to overcome it, and now, I don't voluntarily listen to music anymore, though I have to admit, the urge strikes me every now and again.
Alhamdulillah, due to a short circuit in my memory, the names of rock bands and singers are no longer in my head, which at times forced me to badger my husband when a familiar song blared on the TV while we are channel flipping. He would get a kick out of not satisfying my enquiry by refusing me the information. Reduced to begging, I would implore for him to at least give me a clue, to which he would say,
"Why bother? It wouldn't do you any good."
Yes. Why do I even bother? Patience #2 running low I suppose.
Patience in maintaining constant worship of Allah. Let's just take the example of prayer for this one. We pray five times a day, but do we pray five times a day with the same vigor each time? Do we even have enough vigor to qualify us for a full A on a single prayer? That's not taking into account the issue of concentration in prayer yet, and we're already plummeting to the depths of low scores for not having sufficient vigor in rushing to perform our salat. This is just the fard prayer, not even the extra prayers, which are essential in backing up these fard prayers that we are surely not getting full marks for. If that doesn't make my case, I don't think it's even worth going into other examples to depict this third type of patience we're talking about. Not many people can reach the top anyway.
So, where am I going with this, you may wonder. Inna lillaahi wa inna ilaihi raa'jioon, is what we're supposed to say when calamity strikes us. We're supposed to seek help in patience and prayer. In the end, it's the ones who are patient who will be compensated generously by the Lord of the 'Alameen.
Surah Yusuf was revealed after 'The Year of Sorrow' where Khadijah and Abu Talib passed away, in order to boost up Rasulullah SAW's morale. Naturally he was feeling blue after all the Muslims had to go through after being boycotted for three years by the Quraisy. When his son Ibrahim died, Abu Jahl shunned him by saying that he's the one that is cut off, meaning his sons keep dying, leaving him with no heir. Allah then revealed Surah Al-Kauthar. There were many occasions where Allah supported his prophet in times of sorrow and frustration, reminding him that there were those before him who had gone through major struggles and ended up as the winners, like Prophet Yusuf, Prophet Ayub etc.
In reflecting this issue upon myself, I would say that I have it easy, alhamdulillah. Nevertheless, as did occur in a conversation I had with a dear friend,
"As we go through life, we'll see more stuff than we can ever imagine."
We concluded that life is not life until we see things that disturb us, or have them happen to us eventually. Diseases, death, conflicts that lead to major changes in relationships: these are all things that we fear in life. We would like for life to either remain the same until the day we die, or be better, but the fact of life is, you will never go through it without coming upon a bump along the way. Smooth sailing is just not reality. Your surfboard will eventually reach shallow water or run out of waves, tumbling you headlong into the waters. Your energy will eventually be depleted, causing you to cruise into a little street along your bike route. Your car will finally run out of gas, forcing you to stop at a gas station.
On the other hand, were it not for the shallow water of lack of waves, you might have surfed all the way to Antartica and end up like Robert F. Scott. Were it not for your depleted muscle power, you might have missed that nice little bakery in that little street, with cream puffs that are just to die for. Were it not for the gas running out, you might not have found out that you have an unknown brake problem, or, have your backseat soiled by your preschooler who couldn't 'hold it' any longer.
In other words, these bumps and thorns we face in our lives are actually blessings in disguise. We make it into what we want to make it. That's how we mature. That's how we gain wisdom. And that's how we live life. Life is not worth living without all these bumps and obstacles because then, Jannah would not mean as much. A money well earned is worth more than money falling from the sky.
So where are we in our climb up the mountain of eeman? Are we stuck at the base camp, not having the drive to go past it, or are we ascending beyond it, despite the increasing altitude threatening to rob us of our very existence?
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Behind the Towel Rack
I had just put the kids to bed, closed the door and headed for the bathroom to make wudhu'. Coming out, I noticed their door slightly ajar, and annoyed, I closed it.
I performed Isya', unfortunately without much khusyu' because there was an aggravating noise that appeared to come from behind the door. So as soon as I was done, I looked behind the door but the noise stopped as soon as I did so.
From the corner of my eyes, I sensed a movement just outside the bedroom, near the towel rack. Without glasses, my sight was blurry, but I caught sight of something brown sliding down the length of S's towel hanging on the rack.
My first thought was a bug or even worse a rodent, somehow finding its way from the ceiling to the floor. Heart beating, (you can say I didn't look forward to the prospect of actually seeing a rodent) I grabbed my glasses. Still wearing my prayer garment, I put on my glasses rather gingerly and stretched my neck to look outside my room.
My eyes immediately zeroed in on the spot where I saw the brown thing last, which was practically on the floor. In one of those slow motion series of film reels, my gaze fell on something definitely brown, but to my greatest shock, I found that it was attached to a limb. It was actually part of a limb and for a horrible moment, I thought I had come across a foot of a human corpse. Though the thought seemed pretty disturbing, and should call for an immediate scream, my gaze travelled up the length of the limb and it was then that I realized there was more to the 'brown thing' than I thought.
As my sight traversed the path it naturally took, I found myself face to face with a very familiar face. Staring back at me was my third child: H. All kinds of reaction and emotion roiled in me. I was prepared to pounce upon a rodent while it was unaware, yet there I was face to face with something so unexpected.
"LA ILAAHA ILLA ALLAH!" I exclaimed, holding myself from screaming in shock.
I actually repeated the phrase again, and immediately dove to the floor as if in sujud. It was in that position that I suddenly found the situation to be so hilarious that mirth bubbled up from deep within, and out came a loud reverberating guffaw, loud enough to wake the dead. Unable to control myself, I howled with unstoppable laughter that was soon joined by another howl, yet of another kind: anger.
While I almost lay on the floor laughing my head off, H joined me on the floor writhing and bawling in anger. Pretty soon, two little girls, pretending to squint in the bright light, feigning grogginess from deep sleep, came out of their room to 'check out' the din. Of course, they saw their mother, still clad in her prayer garment, belly laughter bubbling out of her, and their little brother on the floor howling furiously.
Oh, what else is new? Same old, same old: S had said something, H had gotten annoyed thus dashed out of the room to sulk somewhere. Familiar pattern. I should have expected it. I have found him quietly sitting under the table next to the trash can in my room, next to the heater near our bed, behind the curtain in our closet, and amidst all the junk underneath their bunk bed, all in the name of sulking. Suffice it to say, I've been startled almost to death more than once by this little chatterbox.
Amidst the spotting I've been having today, this surely was a cheerful way to begin the night.
I performed Isya', unfortunately without much khusyu' because there was an aggravating noise that appeared to come from behind the door. So as soon as I was done, I looked behind the door but the noise stopped as soon as I did so.
From the corner of my eyes, I sensed a movement just outside the bedroom, near the towel rack. Without glasses, my sight was blurry, but I caught sight of something brown sliding down the length of S's towel hanging on the rack.
My first thought was a bug or even worse a rodent, somehow finding its way from the ceiling to the floor. Heart beating, (you can say I didn't look forward to the prospect of actually seeing a rodent) I grabbed my glasses. Still wearing my prayer garment, I put on my glasses rather gingerly and stretched my neck to look outside my room.
My eyes immediately zeroed in on the spot where I saw the brown thing last, which was practically on the floor. In one of those slow motion series of film reels, my gaze fell on something definitely brown, but to my greatest shock, I found that it was attached to a limb. It was actually part of a limb and for a horrible moment, I thought I had come across a foot of a human corpse. Though the thought seemed pretty disturbing, and should call for an immediate scream, my gaze travelled up the length of the limb and it was then that I realized there was more to the 'brown thing' than I thought.
As my sight traversed the path it naturally took, I found myself face to face with a very familiar face. Staring back at me was my third child: H. All kinds of reaction and emotion roiled in me. I was prepared to pounce upon a rodent while it was unaware, yet there I was face to face with something so unexpected.
"LA ILAAHA ILLA ALLAH!" I exclaimed, holding myself from screaming in shock.
I actually repeated the phrase again, and immediately dove to the floor as if in sujud. It was in that position that I suddenly found the situation to be so hilarious that mirth bubbled up from deep within, and out came a loud reverberating guffaw, loud enough to wake the dead. Unable to control myself, I howled with unstoppable laughter that was soon joined by another howl, yet of another kind: anger.
While I almost lay on the floor laughing my head off, H joined me on the floor writhing and bawling in anger. Pretty soon, two little girls, pretending to squint in the bright light, feigning grogginess from deep sleep, came out of their room to 'check out' the din. Of course, they saw their mother, still clad in her prayer garment, belly laughter bubbling out of her, and their little brother on the floor howling furiously.
Oh, what else is new? Same old, same old: S had said something, H had gotten annoyed thus dashed out of the room to sulk somewhere. Familiar pattern. I should have expected it. I have found him quietly sitting under the table next to the trash can in my room, next to the heater near our bed, behind the curtain in our closet, and amidst all the junk underneath their bunk bed, all in the name of sulking. Suffice it to say, I've been startled almost to death more than once by this little chatterbox.
Amidst the spotting I've been having today, this surely was a cheerful way to begin the night.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Empty
"Kids, we're not having a baby," I said.
"Not this year," added my husband.
Different reactions arose from all three. I had just broken the news to H, and now, another news is upon all of us.
He's happy though, because he claims that a baby will only bite his stuff and drool all over them. N's angry because I 'lied'. S's sad because she really wanted a baby sister/brother.
Me? I went to the appointment by myself, despite hubby insisting on coming along. I knew we couldn't find any babysitter for the kids, so I didn't even bother looking. I don't know why he insisted on coming. Maybe to give emotional support because he knew I was worried about the pregnancy. I insisted on going alone, just because it was going to be a vaginal ultrasound. I ddin't want to bring the kids. Plus, if it was going to be a replay, I didn't want to kids to experience it, again.
A blighted ovum. That's what it is. So I'm expected to miscarry now. If I don't within a month, I'll have to go for a D&C.
The moment I saw the screen, was the same moment Dr. G let out a hint of 'something's wrong'. I couldn't believe I was living through a replay. I guess when it's said that Allah will test you with the things you fear most, that's what it means.
"The sac is still the same size it was when you were at five weeks," she said.
The moment I drove out of the parking lot, grief overwhelmed me. The sky was cloudy and the windshield was drizzled in rain. As I stopped to turn the corner, tears clouded my sight and a superficially buried sorrow escaped me in racking sobs.
I let it all out, and I'm glad I was alone. I couldn't bear living through a complete replay, with the husband, and the kids.
The crying didn't last long though. By the time I reached the other light, I was done. There was no fetus to cry over, just hopes. Even then, my hopes were not that high, though the anticipation was something to cry over.
I feel sorry for S, who had gone through high anticipation twice in a row, only to have the excitement crushed in the end. H had even taken on the way of thinking that another baby would only end up in the grave, "like J."
I truly believe this is a mercy from Allah. To have it happen twice in a row is simply devastating and unbelievable, but others have gone through worse. I have nothing to complain about. I just don't.
"Not this year," added my husband.
Different reactions arose from all three. I had just broken the news to H, and now, another news is upon all of us.
He's happy though, because he claims that a baby will only bite his stuff and drool all over them. N's angry because I 'lied'. S's sad because she really wanted a baby sister/brother.
Me? I went to the appointment by myself, despite hubby insisting on coming along. I knew we couldn't find any babysitter for the kids, so I didn't even bother looking. I don't know why he insisted on coming. Maybe to give emotional support because he knew I was worried about the pregnancy. I insisted on going alone, just because it was going to be a vaginal ultrasound. I ddin't want to bring the kids. Plus, if it was going to be a replay, I didn't want to kids to experience it, again.
A blighted ovum. That's what it is. So I'm expected to miscarry now. If I don't within a month, I'll have to go for a D&C.
The moment I saw the screen, was the same moment Dr. G let out a hint of 'something's wrong'. I couldn't believe I was living through a replay. I guess when it's said that Allah will test you with the things you fear most, that's what it means.
"The sac is still the same size it was when you were at five weeks," she said.
The moment I drove out of the parking lot, grief overwhelmed me. The sky was cloudy and the windshield was drizzled in rain. As I stopped to turn the corner, tears clouded my sight and a superficially buried sorrow escaped me in racking sobs.
I let it all out, and I'm glad I was alone. I couldn't bear living through a complete replay, with the husband, and the kids.
The crying didn't last long though. By the time I reached the other light, I was done. There was no fetus to cry over, just hopes. Even then, my hopes were not that high, though the anticipation was something to cry over.
I feel sorry for S, who had gone through high anticipation twice in a row, only to have the excitement crushed in the end. H had even taken on the way of thinking that another baby would only end up in the grave, "like J."
I truly believe this is a mercy from Allah. To have it happen twice in a row is simply devastating and unbelievable, but others have gone through worse. I have nothing to complain about. I just don't.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Pray Wherever You Are
Before I set foot in the United States, the thought of praying in places other than the masjid or house never entered my mind. Sure, there were occasions when the time for prayer has come in, and I was pressed to find a place to pray, but in a Muslim country like Malaysia, you can find one quite easily. Just ask and you'll probably find one.
You do need to get out of the box and see the bigger picture at least once in your lifetime. I stepped out of the box when I took that flight to the United States with my colleagues, headed for Ames, Iowa.
I didn't know my life was going to change that drastically, but I knew I was in for some major changes. It was not the weather, though that does play a part in how we had to change our lifestyle, but mostly it was the exposure to other Muslims from around the world.
Hubby would always press us to hurry if we're out anywhere, just so we could go home and pray. Or else, he would ask me, "Do you want to go home and pray or do you want to pray here?" And going home to pray would mean leaving everything as is (in the middle of something most of the time) and going home, only to go out again at another convenient time. It always used to irritate me so to be rushed especially when shopping. So we would always try to go out of the house, either way before prayer time or right after prayer time, so we don't have to worry about finding a place to pray.
Nevertheless, there were circumstances where we had to pray wherever we were. On campus, my roommate and I found this spot under the stairs, adjacent to the basement of the library. Every Zuhr time, we would make ablution, grab a paper towel, enough for us to lay our foreheads on, and head for the secluded spot. It smelled musty and damp, just like a basement and occasionally, people would come down the stairs, probably surprised to find two Muslim girls bowing and prostrating in the musty, damp spot beneath the staircase. There was also the time when a note was put on the wall within view, calling for us to believe in Jesus. Heck, we already do believe in Jesus alaihis salam. They're the ones who should believe in Muhammad Sallallaahu alaihi wasallam.
We have prayed on the sidewalks, at gas stations, in the parking lot and even in the park on slightly muddy ground. When it was just the two of us praying, it was pretty simple. Either we would pray together, or we would take turns so as not to leave the kids by themselves in the van. However, when S started praying, I gave her a choice to choose one prayer out of two as a start. She started with Asr. When we go out, most of the time, Asr would be the prayer we would do on the road. It seemed quite a hassle to me to make her pray with us, but before I could tell her not to bother, it struck me. That was the perfect time to teach her that we observe prayer when the time comes in, WHEREVER we are. When we went camping, we made her pray Asr and Maghrib with us. When we took a road trip, we made her pray Asr and Maghrib with us. On an in-town road trip, finding a place to pray proved to be more difficult, more so because the tendency to delay it until we get home is stronger. That was how we handled prayer when I was growing up: wait until we get home. It is only now in my adult life that it came to my attention, that we should pray on time. And Alhamdulillah, the realization came before I taught my kids how to pray.
It's logically easier to just let her sit in the van and not pray, but I suppose making her pray with us would have long term benefits insyaallah. Now, N has started praying, and pretty soon, H will start praying insyaallah.
It also made sense to me to pray in whatever it is you're wearing because that would mean that you are covering up really sufficiently so as not to need anymore hijab or garb over yourself. If I had to wear another layer of prayer garment outside the home when praying, that would mean I'm not covering myself enough leaving the house itself. I can still remember the nagging lady who went after my stepmother in a masjid in Kuala Lumpur for praying with her attire without putting on the white prayer garment over herself. Sometimes you do need to see beyond the normal mundane things and take a breather out of the box. You really do.
You do need to get out of the box and see the bigger picture at least once in your lifetime. I stepped out of the box when I took that flight to the United States with my colleagues, headed for Ames, Iowa.
I didn't know my life was going to change that drastically, but I knew I was in for some major changes. It was not the weather, though that does play a part in how we had to change our lifestyle, but mostly it was the exposure to other Muslims from around the world.
Hubby would always press us to hurry if we're out anywhere, just so we could go home and pray. Or else, he would ask me, "Do you want to go home and pray or do you want to pray here?" And going home to pray would mean leaving everything as is (in the middle of something most of the time) and going home, only to go out again at another convenient time. It always used to irritate me so to be rushed especially when shopping. So we would always try to go out of the house, either way before prayer time or right after prayer time, so we don't have to worry about finding a place to pray.
Nevertheless, there were circumstances where we had to pray wherever we were. On campus, my roommate and I found this spot under the stairs, adjacent to the basement of the library. Every Zuhr time, we would make ablution, grab a paper towel, enough for us to lay our foreheads on, and head for the secluded spot. It smelled musty and damp, just like a basement and occasionally, people would come down the stairs, probably surprised to find two Muslim girls bowing and prostrating in the musty, damp spot beneath the staircase. There was also the time when a note was put on the wall within view, calling for us to believe in Jesus. Heck, we already do believe in Jesus alaihis salam. They're the ones who should believe in Muhammad Sallallaahu alaihi wasallam.
We have prayed on the sidewalks, at gas stations, in the parking lot and even in the park on slightly muddy ground. When it was just the two of us praying, it was pretty simple. Either we would pray together, or we would take turns so as not to leave the kids by themselves in the van. However, when S started praying, I gave her a choice to choose one prayer out of two as a start. She started with Asr. When we go out, most of the time, Asr would be the prayer we would do on the road. It seemed quite a hassle to me to make her pray with us, but before I could tell her not to bother, it struck me. That was the perfect time to teach her that we observe prayer when the time comes in, WHEREVER we are. When we went camping, we made her pray Asr and Maghrib with us. When we took a road trip, we made her pray Asr and Maghrib with us. On an in-town road trip, finding a place to pray proved to be more difficult, more so because the tendency to delay it until we get home is stronger. That was how we handled prayer when I was growing up: wait until we get home. It is only now in my adult life that it came to my attention, that we should pray on time. And Alhamdulillah, the realization came before I taught my kids how to pray.
It's logically easier to just let her sit in the van and not pray, but I suppose making her pray with us would have long term benefits insyaallah. Now, N has started praying, and pretty soon, H will start praying insyaallah.
It also made sense to me to pray in whatever it is you're wearing because that would mean that you are covering up really sufficiently so as not to need anymore hijab or garb over yourself. If I had to wear another layer of prayer garment outside the home when praying, that would mean I'm not covering myself enough leaving the house itself. I can still remember the nagging lady who went after my stepmother in a masjid in Kuala Lumpur for praying with her attire without putting on the white prayer garment over herself. Sometimes you do need to see beyond the normal mundane things and take a breather out of the box. You really do.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Life Stories
"What stories do you want to hear this time?" I asked the kids.
Recently I had taken to lying down with them at their bedtime and telling them stories of when they were little. Normally, whenever their bedtime inched closer, I would rush them to bed because I have been with them the whole day and needed some time to myself.
"If I didn't do this, I'd literally go crazy," I said when someone commented on my children's strict bedtime.
When they were younger, I would schedule my days such that my mornings would be spent cooking lunch and dinner while hubby gives them their baths so I didn't have to worry about cooking lunch or dinner with a toddler tugging at my skirt and a baby crying for milk. By the time hubby was done giving them a bath, I was done cooking amidst all the silent grumblings, and i even ate some as my breakfast. After that, hubby would dash out the door to class and I would spend the day sitting with the kids. My memories of this are mostly pleasant, and I am so glad I decided to stay home with them rather than dropping them off somewhere at daycare and working my butt off at an office somewhere trying to pay off my student loan, which by the way I am still paying through my teeth.
After cleaning up the mess they mass produced during breakfast, I usually had a pre preschooler, a toddler and a baby in the living room, ready to explore their world.
Our mornings were usually peaceful with some Glenn Doman lessons, and a lot of flipping through library books. My love for words and books I made sure I pass down to the kids. The TV was turned on for sure, but after some time, I began to limit it for fear of my children turning out to be zombies whose eyes remain stuck to the screen, oblivious to everything else around them. To this day, I'm glad I was sensible enough to realize that. Having grown up an avid TV watcher, it was hard for me to turn off the TV even though I wasn't watching it. I needed the background noise to keep me going but alhamdulillah my kids are not dependent on it, to the point that I would sometimes ask them,
"Don't you guys want to watch TV?"
What a stupid mother!
Lunchtime was another mess-producing session because I wanted to let them eat by themselves on their high chair. Sure, spoon feeding them would eliminate that mess problem, but they wouldn't attain their fine motor skills as good as they did. Post lunch would be nap time and this was when I took the time to burn some fat and tone some muscles. Religiously, I would turn on the VCR work off some sweat for half an hour to an hour while the kids napped obediently in their room. By the time I came out of the shower, they were awake. If I was lucky, they would remain sleeping for another hour, and if I was really unlucky, they would fight, wail and yell for me while I was doing my jumping jacks and lunges. Many a times I thought I would die from an increased heartrate of merely running up the stairs to calm them and myself down.
By 4 pm, I would be conked out on the couch with content children crawling and playing in the living room. Usually, a while later, hubby would come home and dinner would be served. Soon after it would be bedtime for the children.
That was about five years ago. Now, my daily routine looks a little different but with one important similarity: strict bedtimes. Because that is the only way I can keep my sanity.
Better Muslims
I've come across some people who seriously don't desire children. The reason they give is that, they might raise very bad children were they to have some. Even from the reasoning, you can see some emotional scarring in them either as children growing up or from their observations of dysfunctional families. Some people don't want to get married because they don't want to end up getting divorced.
After having three children, I have come to feel the same way about having more children. I keep telling myself, if I don't become a better Muslim, I'm not prepared to have another baby. What good would I do as a mother to have yet another addition to the ummah if I stay as I am or even worse, slide down the ladder to a lower rung.
To top it off, it's a joint effort, not one carried alone by only the mother. The father also has to ascend up the ladder and even more so than the mother. At least that's the way I prefer though I realize that in some cases, that may not be the case and it still turned out fine. I'm definitely a follower, not a born leader. I prefer to follow, not to lead, yet at times I still find myself leading when I don't feel like I should.
I have changed so much from the time I left Malaysia to pursue my undergraduate at Iowa State. My old friends had had to absorb the new me, and along the way, I have felt out of touch with some old memories. Life takes a very fast pace such that when you're living it, you don't realize the that you're going over the speed limit, but when you have time to sit back and look back, even a little bit, you realize the milestones you have been able to overcome. The hurdles that stood along your way. The uphill trek you had to endure, and you realize that you have grown into a new person. Life does that to you.
Some people say, "I'm not ready to have children." I waver at that statement, because in truth, I don't think you'll ever be ready to have children for they come to you like a fast ball regardless of extensive preparations. Some people are lucky to get an amiable child who submits to every command. Some are tested with strong personalities and others are bestowed with the unexpected. No matter how much you prepare yourself with parenting classes and what nots, you will never be completely ready to have a child, because Allah has said that wealth and children are tests.
I had prepared myself for the death of my fourth child in my womb. Somehow I had the instincts to guess that something was wrong. Yet, I couldn't do anything. Convincing people about it didn't seem to do much good either, so I let myself believe that everything was going to be okay, but I think I knew deep inside that something did go wrong, and that I should prepare myself for it. I did. I really did prepare myself for it, but no amount of preparation actually prepared me for the shock that followed. That's the essence of a test from Allah. It always takes you by surprise. Otherwise, it wouldn't be a test.
As you go through the years, the nature of the tests hurled at you changes in forms and strength, depending on how much you have grown. Mothers would tell their children,
"You're a big girl now. You have more responsibilities, even though you can probably stay up later than you could when you were smaller."
That usually makes them feel like they're better off being a small child after all. I remember the time I turned 17. I was so excited to turn 17 because at the time, I saw it as the epitome of being a young woman. I thought, oh so foolishly, that I would grow taller, but of course, my growth stopped as soon as I reached puberty. Looking back, I think to myself, how far I have gone from foolishness and extreme stubbornness to mediocre maturity and remaining stubbornness. I have yet to see wisdom and sufficient patience in myself, yet I desire so much the wisdom that people say come with age.
I would like to see myself ascending up the ladder as I attain more years in my life. It would be such a shame to remain at the same level of knowledge and iman as you add years to your life. Though iman fluctuates, I would like very much, O Allah, for my graph to become higher each year and never dip below my most recent lowest point. In accordance, it would be just marvelous if this would apply to my whole family.
What is the purpose of life but to worship Allah? What is out objective but to attain the highest status we can attain with regards to the akhirah? I seriously do not want to slide down the ladder, and at this point in my life, I pray that I'm at least advancing if not sliding down.
Maybe also, children, marriage and wealth themselves are means to which we can attain this goal we seek. Surely Allah gives us many avenues through which we can pile up deeds in our records. While I was in the shower today, I was suddenly struck by the fact that the doctor never even mentioned my due date. A sick feeling reverberated through me, and no amount of water trickling down my body would ever wash that feeling. I recognize that feeling well.
In any case, I would prefer to be a better muslim, mukmin before having another baby, but if a baby would help me get there, then khair insyaallah. Not only me, but the father would also have to make that climb with me because I don't want to be there alone. This will be my/our struggle in life and I have to say, it's the greatest struggle one can think of.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
The Second Time Around
I have been pregnant four times and this is my fifth. My first three pregnancies occured when I was in my early twenties. By the time I was pregnant with my fourth, my three children were already 4,6, 7 years old. I had just started homeschooling N who was 6 and H was supposed to start that year too. I didn't know how I was going to handle it, or whether I was going to be able to handle it, but Allah truly knows best. I probably wasn't ready to handle it all, so Allah relieved me of the burden.
My fourth pregnancy ended in a stillbirth in my 24th week. I had written about this extensively at the end of 2004, when I started blogging. The first time I wrote about it was when I composed an email to all my friends telling them about the end of my pregnancy. It was my first and only draft, written completely from the heart on the second day I knew that the baby inside me wasn't breathing anymore.
I had decided to bring all my kids to the ultrasound, since they were all excited about the baby. They were even arguing over who would get to sleep with the baby. In short, that pregnancy was a very much anticipated event. The kids watched my belly grow, and witnessed my never ending morning sickness. Unfortunately, they also witnessed the silent image of the their baby brother on the monitor during the second ultrasound.
When hubby and I broke down in tears, the kids remained seated in the seat and watched us. When we got back home, we explained to them what had happened, and in my grief I had forgotten to tell them that they baby was okay.
That was when they told a friend of ours whom I hadn't seen for a while that,
"The baby died."
Immediately I was summoned when I didn't actually want to talk to anyone. After that, I told the kids,
"If people ask you about the baby, just say the baby's okay, alhamdulillah. You won't be lying because the baby is okay. It'll go to Jannah, insyaallah."
At the time, S and N were attending summer school at the masjid and I remember not being able to keep my eyes open when I sent them to the masjid, due to crying the night before. The induction was schedule a week after the ultrasound. I didn't really want to meet anyone and talk about it. My mother had insisted that I get the baby out as soon as possible but I am really glad that I took a week to deliver J. It gave me time to absorb the concept of letting go of the baby. Alhamdulillah.
The demise was due what the doctor termed ' a fetal accident'. The cord was twisted as if someone had wrung a piece of cloth so tight that no oxygen could get through to the baby. She said, "I have only seen this twice in my 15 years of practice."
For quite a while after that, the kids talked about their little brother incessantly. H actually went to the cemetery with his father to put a stone as a marker. The girls and I didn't go as we abide by the 'women are not allowed to go to the cemetery' opinion. S understood what happened to her baby brother. However, N and H vacillate between comprehension and confusion. At times, H would say "When are we going to see J?"
I had told them that we would all meet in Jannah insyaallah. I think, only now do they understand what that meant. When we were talking about the earthquake in Pakistan, S piped up,
"The kids are all going to Jannah."
It was then that I realized the deeper wisdom behind our tragedy. It gave us an opportunity to feel death in close vicinity. Hubby had asked me to sew on J's name on his basketball jersey.
"So that we would always remember death," he said.
Today, after sending Jidda off at the airport, I told the kids,
"I'm going to be sick most of the time from now, so I really, really need your help, because you're all such responsible kids masyaallah."
I had told S and N that I was pregnant, but not H. As I told them, I looked attheir expression in the rearview mirror. In my mind, I was thinking, would I be inflicting more pain on them this time around, if I were to live through a replay?
This time around, I was scared to even be excited about the pregnancy. Never again will my perception of pregnancy be the same. Yet, there I was, telling the kids about it, and they didn't even question me as to 'will it happen again?" Am I the only one thinking about that? Or am I the only one thinking about it out loud?
N even said, "I want to name the baby Ruqayya!"
Hubby said "I want to look at the baby's face first."
And I'm saying to myself, "Will we even reach that stage?"
Whatever it is, Allah knows best, and whatever He gives us, we will accept Insyaallah. The tragedy has made me stronger in ways I never expected, and I feel that it was a much needed reminder and nudge for all of us in the family from Allah. I now have a surprise waiting for me on the Day of Resurrection insyaallah.
I wonder if the baby clothes we have hanging in the closet for over a year will be used after all. I wonder if my desire to breastfeed a baby will be fulfilled. I wonder if I will live through it all. I wonder. Nevertheless, this time around, everything is still in Allah's Hands. Subhanallah.
Maybe, this time around, my three living children will be big enough and maybe I will have grown stronger to be able to handle it all. Maybe. Truly, there is wisdom behind everything that happens. Allahu Akbar!
My fourth pregnancy ended in a stillbirth in my 24th week. I had written about this extensively at the end of 2004, when I started blogging. The first time I wrote about it was when I composed an email to all my friends telling them about the end of my pregnancy. It was my first and only draft, written completely from the heart on the second day I knew that the baby inside me wasn't breathing anymore.
I had decided to bring all my kids to the ultrasound, since they were all excited about the baby. They were even arguing over who would get to sleep with the baby. In short, that pregnancy was a very much anticipated event. The kids watched my belly grow, and witnessed my never ending morning sickness. Unfortunately, they also witnessed the silent image of the their baby brother on the monitor during the second ultrasound.
When hubby and I broke down in tears, the kids remained seated in the seat and watched us. When we got back home, we explained to them what had happened, and in my grief I had forgotten to tell them that they baby was okay.
That was when they told a friend of ours whom I hadn't seen for a while that,
"The baby died."
Immediately I was summoned when I didn't actually want to talk to anyone. After that, I told the kids,
"If people ask you about the baby, just say the baby's okay, alhamdulillah. You won't be lying because the baby is okay. It'll go to Jannah, insyaallah."
At the time, S and N were attending summer school at the masjid and I remember not being able to keep my eyes open when I sent them to the masjid, due to crying the night before. The induction was schedule a week after the ultrasound. I didn't really want to meet anyone and talk about it. My mother had insisted that I get the baby out as soon as possible but I am really glad that I took a week to deliver J. It gave me time to absorb the concept of letting go of the baby. Alhamdulillah.
The demise was due what the doctor termed ' a fetal accident'. The cord was twisted as if someone had wrung a piece of cloth so tight that no oxygen could get through to the baby. She said, "I have only seen this twice in my 15 years of practice."
For quite a while after that, the kids talked about their little brother incessantly. H actually went to the cemetery with his father to put a stone as a marker. The girls and I didn't go as we abide by the 'women are not allowed to go to the cemetery' opinion. S understood what happened to her baby brother. However, N and H vacillate between comprehension and confusion. At times, H would say "When are we going to see J?"
I had told them that we would all meet in Jannah insyaallah. I think, only now do they understand what that meant. When we were talking about the earthquake in Pakistan, S piped up,
"The kids are all going to Jannah."
It was then that I realized the deeper wisdom behind our tragedy. It gave us an opportunity to feel death in close vicinity. Hubby had asked me to sew on J's name on his basketball jersey.
"So that we would always remember death," he said.
Today, after sending Jidda off at the airport, I told the kids,
"I'm going to be sick most of the time from now, so I really, really need your help, because you're all such responsible kids masyaallah."
I had told S and N that I was pregnant, but not H. As I told them, I looked attheir expression in the rearview mirror. In my mind, I was thinking, would I be inflicting more pain on them this time around, if I were to live through a replay?
This time around, I was scared to even be excited about the pregnancy. Never again will my perception of pregnancy be the same. Yet, there I was, telling the kids about it, and they didn't even question me as to 'will it happen again?" Am I the only one thinking about that? Or am I the only one thinking about it out loud?
N even said, "I want to name the baby Ruqayya!"
Hubby said "I want to look at the baby's face first."
And I'm saying to myself, "Will we even reach that stage?"
Whatever it is, Allah knows best, and whatever He gives us, we will accept Insyaallah. The tragedy has made me stronger in ways I never expected, and I feel that it was a much needed reminder and nudge for all of us in the family from Allah. I now have a surprise waiting for me on the Day of Resurrection insyaallah.
I wonder if the baby clothes we have hanging in the closet for over a year will be used after all. I wonder if my desire to breastfeed a baby will be fulfilled. I wonder if I will live through it all. I wonder. Nevertheless, this time around, everything is still in Allah's Hands. Subhanallah.
Maybe, this time around, my three living children will be big enough and maybe I will have grown stronger to be able to handle it all. Maybe. Truly, there is wisdom behind everything that happens. Allahu Akbar!
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