Monday, January 28, 2008
Countdown to Chain of Command
3 more days till Chain of Command is here in Columbus. I had decided not to take it, due to the complications related to Baby Z. But after a curt and brief conversation with hubby, as we were about to get out of the van, everything changed.
"You're not taking the class?" I asked him.
He shook his head.
"Why not?"
"Too much for two people," he replied.
"Well, I'm not taking it," I stated, partly indignant that he still thought I was taking it despite my repeated declarations of not taking it because of Baby Z.
"Why not? Oh...just take it," he shot back at me.
"But Z..." I began.
"Alah...we'll make do somehow."
I hate it when he does that, but he always does, and in the end, I always succumb. As I stepped out of the van, I thought to myself,
Hmm..so I'm taking the class, eh?
But it seemed too easy and uncomplicated, and I know that there always will be complications, because I had encountered it before during Rays of Faith and Code of Scholars. A man is a man. Everything is simplified for him.
I posed him some challenge questions, in order to insert come probable complications that would take place.
"Then you can't man the registration tables."
"Ok, I'll tell them I can't," he acquisced.
"How are you going to heat up Baby Z's food?"
There are no microwaves in the campus buildings, at least not where the class will be held. No fridge either for that matter, and since Baby Z now eats rice porridge that I make for him, a fridge and a microwave are important essentials needed in the equation of him babysitting Baby Z while I take the class for two full weekends.
"Dry it, and then just add water," he said.
I did a double take in my mind while at the same time thinking,
Is he serious?
"You can't dry it, what do you mean?"
"You'll have to stay home some of the time so Baby Z can sleep properly, instead of in his stroller," I said.
See how I have to come up with the solutions?
We'll have to go there in the afternoon, because he will need your milk, and you can't go without nursing him for long," he said.
Well, I have to give him some credit, he did think about my being engorged, while I mainly thought of Baby Z's comfort and flaring eczema. 10 points for hubby!
So, it was decided then that I am taking the class, and that hubby will babysit the kids. I'm sure flexibility will be needed during those two weekends, and that no amount of planning will suffice or be realistic since Baby Z is the one who decides when he wants to nurse, so for now, we leave all the tiny, minute details out.
Time and time again, this point is raised:
The mother is the one most in need of these types of classes because she will be the one who is to raise and educate the children.
So may Allah aid me in seeking knowledge in order to benefit my family and myself in the long run. Ameen.
Veering Off Course
Imagine you're on a plane crossing the Pacific Ocean. The screen above you on the panel up front shows the route the plane is supposed to take, but as you approach your destination, the plane suddenly veers off course, away from the planned route. That was what happened to hubby's flight recently, as we kept track of his 9 hour flight on the internet, real time.
I had begun reading the 7 Habits of Highly Effective Families a few days prior to hubby's departure, and in the introduction, Covey spoke of how airplanes go off course all the time. He used it as a metaphor for how families function.
There is no perfect family that is without conflicts. Every family is different, and every family has its own problems and struggle. We lose tempers, we say things we don't mean, we don't say things we mean, and these are all the things that can get us off course. Just like those airplanes have their destinations and determined routes to get to those destinations, families should also have destinations, and a path to get there. The fact that we sometimes veer off course is normal, but the point he wanted to make is that there needs to be effort to keep families on those paths.
Applying it to a Muslim family, it's basically remaining on the straight path to Jannah. Each family member should have the same vision, so that getting back on track would be easier. Imagine if the pilot and co pilot have different destinations in mind. The flight would be a disaster!
Reflecting on that, I thought to myself, does our family have this vision? I mean, we always talk about Jannah, about finally being there, about getting to do what we want when we get there, and whenever we encounter any battles with our desires, I always bring Jannah up to the kids, and even to myself, whenever I have inner conflicts with hubby. Thinking back, it does truly help to focus on the end of the road when you're stuck in a rut on the way. You need to zoom out, refocus, and zoom back in and do what you need to do.
During the TDC, I attended the 7 Habits of Highly Effective Muslim Families workshop, conducted by Rose Ashraf. It was really eye opening and refreshing. Needless to say, that was the catalyst to my reading the Stephen Covey books. I used to loathe self help books, and would never even approach the shelves they're residing on if I was at a bookstore. However, parenting has driven me to actually seek self help books, because parenting is very much about self discovery and self improvement as much as it is about raising little people. I find myself pondering back upon my childhood, analyzing it, ad trying to make sense of it. My relationships with my parents are essential for retrospection in order for me to develop good relationships with my own children. They say you never truly value your mother until you are a mother yourself, and I do believe that is true, at least for me. But then again, there are aspects of my childhood that requires me to figure some things out, things that are atypical of a normal family.
All my adult life I have been observing other people's interactions within their families in order to get a model for my own. I'm basically trying to figure things out from scratch, because I don't have a model from which to take from, not one that I want to take from anyway. So it has been really hard, but it has been enlightening too.
There is a reason behind everything, and I am very grateful that Allah has sent me to a place where I am able to experience life from many perspectives, and meet people I wouldn't normally meet in my typical expected hometown. It has really been a great learning experience alhamdulillah.
All day yesterday, we constantly refreshed the page of hubby's flight status. It was a 9 hour flight, so you can guess how many times we hit the reload button.
"I wanna see where Abi is now!" H would exclaim, and up the stairs he bounded.
"Where is he now?" we would ask the person who had just refreshed the page.
"Over Colorado."
"He's over Utah now!"
"Oh, he's over the ocean!"
"He's almost there!"
And suddenly, his plane went off course as it neared its destination.
"Look, they went off track!"
"Ooh, there must have been some storm or wind or something."
"He landed! He landed!"
When I went to the screen, I could no longer see the real time map showing the flight path because he had landed. In a way I was relieved, but I missed seeing it too.
"When can we call Abi?" they kept asking right after he landed.
"Oh, he's probably trying to get a bus to get to the hotel now," I said.
"You can leave him a message on Yahoo Messenger," I suggested.
So they did. It wasn't until later that hubby replied, and because of the time difference, the kids had already gone to bed by then.
The foremost message they sent him was that his plane went off track. Hubby said it was due to the wind.
There has been quite a lot of 'wind' all these years, and some of them have really almost blown us off course altogether, but by the Grace of Allah, we were guided back on track. I don't know for how many legs of the journey we've been through, and if one leg is defined as a decade, then we have passed through one leg of the journey. It's a long way away, and as of now, we are struggling to stay on course as we straggle off of it from time to time.
May Allah continue to bestow on us guidance to keep us on this road to Jannah. Ameen.
Friday, January 25, 2008
The Cleanest Room in the House!
Decluttering has become my physical ranting and venting in an attempt to be proactive about the mess that has been constantly and consistently plaguing the house, especially in the kids' room.
For someone who would pick up the broom and start sweeping the classroom during prep time whenever she was stressed out or stuck doing her homework, it really is a struggle for me to deal with a constantly messy room.
My recollection of our apartment in Iowa is that of an immaculately maintained townhouse-like apartment, bustling with 3 very young children ranging from the age of 0 to 3, attempts at baking and cake decorating, attempts at sewing and quilting, and informal homeschooling. I really relish and savor those memories, despite the accompanying harrowing memories of a young mother of three very young children dealing with the stress of motherhood. The clean house is what I remember fondly. I would brush the carpet every day, clean the stove after cooking each time without fail, clean the bathroom, stairs and rooms weekly, and every night before we went to bed, I would secretly peek at my warm-hued living room, carpeted and curtained in peachy light pink and centered with a pink bean bag. Despite the three young children, I was able to maintain he upkeep of the apartment to my heart's content.
So imagine my horror when I realize that I no longer am realistically able to keep a clean apartment with three growing children ranging from ages 7 to 11. One would think, logically, that the bigger they are, the easier it would be to utilize them as workers around the house. Little did I realize that I would have to resort to nagging, yelling, threatening, and decluterring in continuous cycles of despair!
I had them doing chores around the house, but their room somehow managed to maintain its unkempt appearance, despite multiple attempts of decluttering on major scales. You won't believe how many big trash bags I have filled with stuff from their room in a matter of months. Yet, I still see 'stuff' in nooks and corners, peeking, sticking out, and just plain irritating me day by day.
So recently, I set out to do my decluterring, and in the process, I managed to throw away some of their (probably) beloved possessions. Truth be told, I feel bad doing it, I feel sentimental, for I am a pack rat at heart, but I had to put on my 'sensible' and reasonable hat for the sake of the house, and my blood pressure.
As I stashed two big trash bags with their belongings, they looked on in silence. I snapped at them every now and then,
"You really don't want me to clean your room, trust me. You really don't."
"This is what happens when I clean your room."
A few days after, I told them to vacuum their now (relatively) 'clean' and decluttered room. H swayed lazily up the stairs, and I barked at him,
"That's the kind of behavior that drives me to clean your room. You want me to clean your room again?!"
before I knew it, they were all bustling in their room, doors closed, thumps and bangs on the floor. The vacuum droned while I nursed Baby Z on the couch downstairs.
"Ummi, don't come in!" they warned me when I tried to enter their room.
Well, well, well, when I was finally allowed to enter, a pleasant sight greeted me. The room was devoid of mess, and its size appears increased, particularly because they had folded and put away their school table, leaving a vast space along the wall and windows. I couldn't help but smile.
Days after, they continued to maintain the tidyness of their room, and when I asked them why, they said,
"Because we like it clean."
Of course, before that they did try to bargain with me.
"If we keep it clean for a month, will you give us a hamster?"
"What about if we keep clean for two months?"
Immediately I thought back to what I read in Screamfree Parenting; that you should let kids make mistakes now rather than later, that you would want them to do something because they want to do it. I want them to keep their room clean because they want their room to be clean, because that is the only true motivation for them to continue doing it without me having to constantly remind them.
So I said no.
"If you keep it clean just because you want a hamster, trust me, it won't be clean for long."
They had claimed that
"We will keep our room clean now."
Alhamdulilah, so far, they have managed to keep their room clean.
"It's the cleanest room in the house, Ummi!" they exclaimed.
"I like our room now, it's so clean!"
And I say it too.
"I like your room now," I would say, and I mean it.
Since the winter chill has been penetrating our living room and kitchen relentlessly nowadays, it is a pleasure to actually park myself in their room, it being so tidy and all.
We'll see how long this lasts. Inshaallah, this will last long, because now they know the pain of loss that comes with Ummi cleaning their room.
For someone who would pick up the broom and start sweeping the classroom during prep time whenever she was stressed out or stuck doing her homework, it really is a struggle for me to deal with a constantly messy room.
My recollection of our apartment in Iowa is that of an immaculately maintained townhouse-like apartment, bustling with 3 very young children ranging from the age of 0 to 3, attempts at baking and cake decorating, attempts at sewing and quilting, and informal homeschooling. I really relish and savor those memories, despite the accompanying harrowing memories of a young mother of three very young children dealing with the stress of motherhood. The clean house is what I remember fondly. I would brush the carpet every day, clean the stove after cooking each time without fail, clean the bathroom, stairs and rooms weekly, and every night before we went to bed, I would secretly peek at my warm-hued living room, carpeted and curtained in peachy light pink and centered with a pink bean bag. Despite the three young children, I was able to maintain he upkeep of the apartment to my heart's content.
So imagine my horror when I realize that I no longer am realistically able to keep a clean apartment with three growing children ranging from ages 7 to 11. One would think, logically, that the bigger they are, the easier it would be to utilize them as workers around the house. Little did I realize that I would have to resort to nagging, yelling, threatening, and decluterring in continuous cycles of despair!
I had them doing chores around the house, but their room somehow managed to maintain its unkempt appearance, despite multiple attempts of decluttering on major scales. You won't believe how many big trash bags I have filled with stuff from their room in a matter of months. Yet, I still see 'stuff' in nooks and corners, peeking, sticking out, and just plain irritating me day by day.
So recently, I set out to do my decluterring, and in the process, I managed to throw away some of their (probably) beloved possessions. Truth be told, I feel bad doing it, I feel sentimental, for I am a pack rat at heart, but I had to put on my 'sensible' and reasonable hat for the sake of the house, and my blood pressure.
As I stashed two big trash bags with their belongings, they looked on in silence. I snapped at them every now and then,
"You really don't want me to clean your room, trust me. You really don't."
"This is what happens when I clean your room."
A few days after, I told them to vacuum their now (relatively) 'clean' and decluttered room. H swayed lazily up the stairs, and I barked at him,
"That's the kind of behavior that drives me to clean your room. You want me to clean your room again?!"
before I knew it, they were all bustling in their room, doors closed, thumps and bangs on the floor. The vacuum droned while I nursed Baby Z on the couch downstairs.
"Ummi, don't come in!" they warned me when I tried to enter their room.
Well, well, well, when I was finally allowed to enter, a pleasant sight greeted me. The room was devoid of mess, and its size appears increased, particularly because they had folded and put away their school table, leaving a vast space along the wall and windows. I couldn't help but smile.
Days after, they continued to maintain the tidyness of their room, and when I asked them why, they said,
"Because we like it clean."
Of course, before that they did try to bargain with me.
"If we keep it clean for a month, will you give us a hamster?"
"What about if we keep clean for two months?"
Immediately I thought back to what I read in Screamfree Parenting; that you should let kids make mistakes now rather than later, that you would want them to do something because they want to do it. I want them to keep their room clean because they want their room to be clean, because that is the only true motivation for them to continue doing it without me having to constantly remind them.
So I said no.
"If you keep it clean just because you want a hamster, trust me, it won't be clean for long."
They had claimed that
"We will keep our room clean now."
Alhamdulilah, so far, they have managed to keep their room clean.
"It's the cleanest room in the house, Ummi!" they exclaimed.
"I like our room now, it's so clean!"
And I say it too.
"I like your room now," I would say, and I mean it.
Since the winter chill has been penetrating our living room and kitchen relentlessly nowadays, it is a pleasure to actually park myself in their room, it being so tidy and all.
We'll see how long this lasts. Inshaallah, this will last long, because now they know the pain of loss that comes with Ummi cleaning their room.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Wahnan 'Ala Wahnin
وَوَصَّيْنَا الْإِنسَانَ بِوَالِدَيْهِ حَمَلَتْهُ أُمُّهُ وَهْناً عَلَى وَهْنٍ وَفِصَالُهُ فِي عَامَيْنِ أَنِ اشْكُرْ لِي وَلِوَالِدَيْكَ إِلَيَّ الْمَصِيرُ
Muhsin Khan: And We have enjoined on man (to be dutiful and good) to his parents. His mother bore him in weakness and hardship upon weakness and hardship, and his weaning is in two years give thanks to Me and to your parents, unto Me is the final destination.
(And We have enjoined on man (to be dutiful and good) to his parents. His mother bore him in weakness and hardship upon weakness and hardship,)
Mujahid said: "The hardship of bearing the child.''
Qatadah said: "Exhaustion upon exhaustion.''
`Ata' Al-Khurasani said: "Weakness upon weakness.''
"Ouch, ouch! eee! aargh! that hurts!"
"But look, the baby's so cute!" I exclaimed.
"But it hurts!"
Guess who among the three kids had the ouch response?
H, who shielded his eyes while peeking, and held on to his groin while cringing and wincing in pain.
The girls watched it with some interest, but in relative silence and surprising calm.
There were some questions about the umbilical cord, but that was about it.
I wonder what kind of husband H would make. The kind that would pass out in the delivery room while his baby's being delivered?
Now hopefully they understand more about wahnan 'ala wahnin, inshaallah.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
A BIG Thanks is in order
During the Texas Dawah Convention, S spent time in the MIST Jr. program. She scowled and frowned and stretched her face to unimaginable vertical lengths.
"I hate dodgeball!"
Everytime we would ask her how her day was, she would respond with either a scowl or a slight smile.
Scowl = bad day
Slight smile = it wasn't too bad
It turned out, the only thing she really didn't like was dodgeball. There was a time when I was walking her and Baby Z to the KidZone, while hubby dropped N and H off at their age groups room respectively. Baby Z was crying, and I had to rush off to the lectures, so we asked her if she could stay with Baby Z in Baby Z's babysitting room and put him to sleep. She nodded eagerly. However, as we paced the hallways, Baby Z fell asleep in his stroller.Knowing how she hated dodgeball, I asked her, as we approached Baby Z's babysitting room,
"Do you wanna go to MIST Jr, or do you want to stay with Baby Z?"
She didn't answer right away, but indicated from her body language that she would prefer to go to MIST Jr. So off to MIST Jr. she went, while I wheeled Baby Z to his babysitting room.
On one of those days, she told me that they were making a big THANKS exhibit for the parents, and that each of them had to make a card for each parent, thanking each parent for one particular thing.
"I made one for Abi and one for you," she said, a shy smile peeking through.
"So what'd you thank me for?" I teased her, cajoling her into runing the surprise.
"I'm not telling," her smile grew.
"How about Abi?" I asked again.
"I'm not telling," she persisted.
"Abi's has a heart on it," she suddenly offered.
"Oh, and mine doesn't?!" I pretended to be hurt.
"Come on, S, what'd you thank me for?"
"You'll have to look for it,"she said.
"But how will I find it if I don't know what it is?" I reasoned.
"You''ll have to find it," she said yet again, becoming more and more indignant at keeping the surprise intact.
"I hate dodgeball!"
Everytime we would ask her how her day was, she would respond with either a scowl or a slight smile.
Scowl = bad day
Slight smile = it wasn't too bad
It turned out, the only thing she really didn't like was dodgeball. There was a time when I was walking her and Baby Z to the KidZone, while hubby dropped N and H off at their age groups room respectively. Baby Z was crying, and I had to rush off to the lectures, so we asked her if she could stay with Baby Z in Baby Z's babysitting room and put him to sleep. She nodded eagerly. However, as we paced the hallways, Baby Z fell asleep in his stroller.Knowing how she hated dodgeball, I asked her, as we approached Baby Z's babysitting room,
"Do you wanna go to MIST Jr, or do you want to stay with Baby Z?"
She didn't answer right away, but indicated from her body language that she would prefer to go to MIST Jr. So off to MIST Jr. she went, while I wheeled Baby Z to his babysitting room.
On one of those days, she told me that they were making a big THANKS exhibit for the parents, and that each of them had to make a card for each parent, thanking each parent for one particular thing.
"I made one for Abi and one for you," she said, a shy smile peeking through.
"So what'd you thank me for?" I teased her, cajoling her into runing the surprise.
"I'm not telling," her smile grew.
"How about Abi?" I asked again.
"I'm not telling," she persisted.
"Abi's has a heart on it," she suddenly offered.
"Oh, and mine doesn't?!" I pretended to be hurt.
"Come on, S, what'd you thank me for?"
"You'll have to look for it,"she said.
"But how will I find it if I don't know what it is?" I reasoned.
"You''ll have to find it," she said yet again, becoming more and more indignant at keeping the surprise intact.
So on the day the THANKS was finally put up, I went her and Baby Z. They had put it up on the main lobby of the convention floor. I looked through all of the cards trying to find hers. We giggled through some, for some kids had written,
"Thank you for the shorts and shirts." And we marveled at some, for some kids had done really beautiful artwork on their card. And then I pounced on hers.
Guess which one's for whom? And why do I feel like I got the less better one?
Botton & Argee : Spelling Bee 2007
This year, we didn't prepare for the Spelling Bee as enthusiastically as we did the previous years. Reason : I was sick last week, and the weeks before, we were busy with the TDC.
So H and N went to the Spelling Bee on Monday somewhat in a cavalier manner, I suppose. H did study a little bit, but N, well, let's just say she stops and smells the flowers, and counts the bees on each flower.
This is the first time that Baby Z attended their Spelling Bee. The first Spelling Bee the kids entered, S turned out the champion, and N stayed till the last few rounds. H was too young then. The second Spelling Bee they entered, S competed against 8th graders, and she lasted till there was about 2 other people, which was pretty good, considering she was only in 4th grade at the time. N and H got eliminated pretty early in their Pee Wee Bee.
"B. O. T. T. O. N," N spelled.
"I'm sorry, but nice try," said the school principal, and N walked back to us.
Her expression, was as usual, you couldn't tell what she was feeling. I hugged and kissed her, and a smile broke out, pushing those smooth caramel mole-adorned cheeks upwards.
H was still in the rounds when she was eliminated, so we watched him eagerly.
"Agree," said the school principal.
"A. R. ... err...A. G.R.E.E. Agree,"H spelled.
He probably knew he had blown it too. When he walked back to us, his face was scrunched up, ready to break into tears at anytime. My heart hurt. I hugged and kissed him, not saying anything. He didn't cry.
Later on I asked him how he felt about it.
"Bad, I didn't win."
At the kitchen table, when they were having dinner, S joked,
"Botton and Argee!"
They all broke into laughter. They found the humor in it. Alhamdulillah.
Despite all that, we did treat them with Tim Horton donuts and hot chocolate right after the Spelling Bee. They actually did pretty good. This year, they lasted quite a few more rounds before they were eliminated.
S, however, refused to participate, as she realized that the Spelling Bee for the older kids are more serious and difficult, despite doing quite good last year.
This might be their last Spelling Bee, if we move this year.
So H and N went to the Spelling Bee on Monday somewhat in a cavalier manner, I suppose. H did study a little bit, but N, well, let's just say she stops and smells the flowers, and counts the bees on each flower.
This is the first time that Baby Z attended their Spelling Bee. The first Spelling Bee the kids entered, S turned out the champion, and N stayed till the last few rounds. H was too young then. The second Spelling Bee they entered, S competed against 8th graders, and she lasted till there was about 2 other people, which was pretty good, considering she was only in 4th grade at the time. N and H got eliminated pretty early in their Pee Wee Bee.
"B. O. T. T. O. N," N spelled.
"I'm sorry, but nice try," said the school principal, and N walked back to us.
Her expression, was as usual, you couldn't tell what she was feeling. I hugged and kissed her, and a smile broke out, pushing those smooth caramel mole-adorned cheeks upwards.
H was still in the rounds when she was eliminated, so we watched him eagerly.
"Agree," said the school principal.
"A. R. ... err...A. G.R.E.E. Agree,"H spelled.
He probably knew he had blown it too. When he walked back to us, his face was scrunched up, ready to break into tears at anytime. My heart hurt. I hugged and kissed him, not saying anything. He didn't cry.
Later on I asked him how he felt about it.
"Bad, I didn't win."
At the kitchen table, when they were having dinner, S joked,
"Botton and Argee!"
They all broke into laughter. They found the humor in it. Alhamdulillah.
Despite all that, we did treat them with Tim Horton donuts and hot chocolate right after the Spelling Bee. They actually did pretty good. This year, they lasted quite a few more rounds before they were eliminated.
S, however, refused to participate, as she realized that the Spelling Bee for the older kids are more serious and difficult, despite doing quite good last year.
This might be their last Spelling Bee, if we move this year.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
On Mothers
I always wanted 7 children. My mother said,
"Are you crazy?" when I told her. Well, she asked me.
After having 3 in a row, I put the 'dream' on hold. I now have 5, technically. So I guess Ijust need 2 more to complete the dream set. People dream of completing their china or dishware set, I dream of completing my offspring set, but deep down, it's just a way to increase the probability of getting one of those righteous children who will keep putting money in the 'bank' for hubby and me even when we're long gone, inshaallah.
I always wondered how mothers of more than 5 children cope. Are the mothers in good health condition? Are they still alive? How are the children? Do they get along? Who gets along best with whom?
So it was an eye opener to be reading this.
As for this one, it was a personal struggle for me, and throughout the years, I am able to see the benefits of that struggle.
Sisters is wonderful, elegant new magazine for the Muslim woman. Though I have not been fortunate enough to actually hold the print version of the magazine in my hands, I have been reading the issues that have been churned out through the efforts of dedicated sisters, may Allah reward them.
"Are you crazy?" when I told her. Well, she asked me.
After having 3 in a row, I put the 'dream' on hold. I now have 5, technically. So I guess Ijust need 2 more to complete the dream set. People dream of completing their china or dishware set, I dream of completing my offspring set, but deep down, it's just a way to increase the probability of getting one of those righteous children who will keep putting money in the 'bank' for hubby and me even when we're long gone, inshaallah.
“Whenever the son of Adam dies his actions stop except three: Knowledge that benefits people, a recurring charity, and a righteous child that supplicates for his parent .”
(Hadeeth Saheeh, Collected by Muslim #1631)
I always wondered how mothers of more than 5 children cope. Are the mothers in good health condition? Are they still alive? How are the children? Do they get along? Who gets along best with whom?
So it was an eye opener to be reading this.
As for this one, it was a personal struggle for me, and throughout the years, I am able to see the benefits of that struggle.
Sisters is wonderful, elegant new magazine for the Muslim woman. Though I have not been fortunate enough to actually hold the print version of the magazine in my hands, I have been reading the issues that have been churned out through the efforts of dedicated sisters, may Allah reward them.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Hazens Hotel
Some changes are due because the old way is not working, apparently. The chore chart is being abandoned as we speak, and I just got fed up hearing,
"I don't know,"
whenever I ask them,
"So what's your chore today?"
So, instead of rotating chores everyday, we've decided to tweak the system, and here is what we came up with. There are three managerial positions waiting to be filled:
Each child chose the managerial position they want, and for the rest of the month, each child will stick with that managerial position. Come the new month, they can rotate.
Is it working? Well, so far the living room has received two vaccuumings in two days and has never looked more presentable. The stairs look amazing as well, and the kitchen, being the most used room in the house, is pretty okay.
As for moi, I will be the bathroom manager, and for now, since I've been sick, the bathroom just looks plain horrible!
"I don't know,"
whenever I ask them,
"So what's your chore today?"
So, instead of rotating chores everyday, we've decided to tweak the system, and here is what we came up with. There are three managerial positions waiting to be filled:
- Living Room Manager
- Kitchen Manager
- Hallway Manager
Responsibilities:
Living Room Manager:
1. Straighten up the living room
2. Vacuum the living room
3. Take out all the trash in the house whenever they're full
Kitchen Manager:
1. Place all the clean utensils, plastic plates and cups in their respective places
2. Sweep the kitchen
3. Wipe down the exterior of the washer, dryer, and fridge
Hallway Manager:
1. Sweep the stairs
2. Arrange the shoes on the shoe rack
3. Wipe the mirror such that you can even see the booger that doesn't want to be seen!
Living Room Manager:
1. Straighten up the living room
2. Vacuum the living room
3. Take out all the trash in the house whenever they're full
Kitchen Manager:
1. Place all the clean utensils, plastic plates and cups in their respective places
2. Sweep the kitchen
3. Wipe down the exterior of the washer, dryer, and fridge
Hallway Manager:
1. Sweep the stairs
2. Arrange the shoes on the shoe rack
3. Wipe the mirror such that you can even see the booger that doesn't want to be seen!
Each child chose the managerial position they want, and for the rest of the month, each child will stick with that managerial position. Come the new month, they can rotate.
Is it working? Well, so far the living room has received two vaccuumings in two days and has never looked more presentable. The stairs look amazing as well, and the kitchen, being the most used room in the house, is pretty okay.
As for moi, I will be the bathroom manager, and for now, since I've been sick, the bathroom just looks plain horrible!
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Chain of Command
"Do you think I should take the class?"
"Yeah!" H shouted.
"No," S said, followed by N.
"Oh, why should I take it?" I asked H.
"So you can teach it to us."
"And why shouldn't I take it? I asked the girls.
"I don't want to babysit Z," replied S, just as I had expected.
"I can babysit him!" H offered.
"Well, what if he's sleepy?" S said.
"Do I teach you the stuff I learned in the AlMaghrib classes?" I asked them.
To be honest, I was rather taken aback by H's reason of why I should take the class. I thought they don't really care either way. I didn't realize it affects them this much.
"Yes!" H shouted again.
"Yes," S and N replied.
"Except for the last one, you didn't teach us," said H.
Usul al Fiqh. I didn't relay the content of that class to them...yet.
I had decided to let hubby take the class, seeing how it was such a huge hassle taking the class with a nursing baby. Two full weekends take a toll on a baby's schedule, and seeing as I had to resort to having my 10 year old babysit Baby Z, it doesn't seem very fair to her either. I had gathered the kids to ask their honest opinions, but H's answer surprised me.
I always though that my taking these classes are beneficial for my children, but hearing it directly from them makes a huge difference. Subhanallah.
"But I thought you said you're bored in that building?" I asked H, to test how much he wanted me to take the class.
"No," he said.
"Only Abi will take the class this time," I explained.
"Ohh...can we come?" they asked.
"I don't know."
"This class is about the sahaba," I said.
Immediately I saw H's eyes lighting up behind the new pair of glasses he had gotten just last week.
"Yes! " he exclaimed.
"Well, maybe Abi can tell you and then you can teach us," S suggested.
"Yeah, Abi doesn't teach us good. I can't understand him!" H complained.
To take or not to take, that is not the question, for I know the hindrances of taking the class with a nursing baby. I have already made my decision, as hard as it was to make, but I have a take home lesson from all this: it truly does benefit them, alhamdulillah.
Take home lesson for all parents: seeing parents seek Islamic knowledge does wonders to the children.
"Yeah!" H shouted.
"No," S said, followed by N.
"Oh, why should I take it?" I asked H.
"So you can teach it to us."
"And why shouldn't I take it? I asked the girls.
"I don't want to babysit Z," replied S, just as I had expected.
"I can babysit him!" H offered.
"Well, what if he's sleepy?" S said.
"Do I teach you the stuff I learned in the AlMaghrib classes?" I asked them.
To be honest, I was rather taken aback by H's reason of why I should take the class. I thought they don't really care either way. I didn't realize it affects them this much.
"Yes!" H shouted again.
"Yes," S and N replied.
"Except for the last one, you didn't teach us," said H.
Usul al Fiqh. I didn't relay the content of that class to them...yet.
I had decided to let hubby take the class, seeing how it was such a huge hassle taking the class with a nursing baby. Two full weekends take a toll on a baby's schedule, and seeing as I had to resort to having my 10 year old babysit Baby Z, it doesn't seem very fair to her either. I had gathered the kids to ask their honest opinions, but H's answer surprised me.
I always though that my taking these classes are beneficial for my children, but hearing it directly from them makes a huge difference. Subhanallah.
"But I thought you said you're bored in that building?" I asked H, to test how much he wanted me to take the class.
"No," he said.
"Only Abi will take the class this time," I explained.
"Ohh...can we come?" they asked.
"I don't know."
"This class is about the sahaba," I said.
Immediately I saw H's eyes lighting up behind the new pair of glasses he had gotten just last week.
"Yes! " he exclaimed.
"Well, maybe Abi can tell you and then you can teach us," S suggested.
"Yeah, Abi doesn't teach us good. I can't understand him!" H complained.
To take or not to take, that is not the question, for I know the hindrances of taking the class with a nursing baby. I have already made my decision, as hard as it was to make, but I have a take home lesson from all this: it truly does benefit them, alhamdulillah.
Take home lesson for all parents: seeing parents seek Islamic knowledge does wonders to the children.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Caring for the sick
Ever since they were small, they've been taught to care for each other when they're sick. I remember when S would sit by N's head and hold the bowl for her to throw up in. I would also tell them to bring water for the sick sibling. Alhamdulillah, throughout the years, I do believe they know how to care for each other when one of them is sick.
This really paid off last night when I was the one who was sick. We had gone out after Asr. I was feeling fine, but after a while I started feeling dizzy and my body started to ache. I had chills too. By the time we got home, I was feverish, and I spent the night under two blankets on the couch, still clad in my abaya and socks, while the family reveled in the unusually pleasant warm weather we've been having in early winter.
When I woke up, hubby and H had gone to the masjid, and S and N were sitting on the floor, reading, while Baby Z sat in his chair blabbering while sucking his hand. I motioned for S to give Baby Z to me, as I knew that he wanted to nurse. It was his bedtime. As I sat up and nursed Baby Z, S and N began to peel the clementines we had bought, one after another. S asked me if I wanted any, I weakly nodded.
Before long, both N and S were feeding me sections of clementines while I nursed Baby Z, who, in the beginning even pulled away from the nipple with each section of clementines popped in my mouth. After a while, he continued nursing, which lasted for maybe an hour.
Even while I was pregnant, the kids showed a lot of mercy to me by helping me with my socks, my shoe laces and getting me stuff I couldn't get up to get myself. Alhamdulillah.
I couldn't help but think of the story of Ibn Umar and the man who had carried his mother on back from Persia all the way to Makkah for hajj while S and N were feeding me clementines.
The man asked Ibn Umar,
"Have I repaid my mother?"
Ibn Umar replied,
"Not even by one contraction, for she did things for you out of pure love while you do this out of debt and you are just waiting for her to die."
May Allah make my girls into righteous wives and mothers and grant them a special place in Jannah.
As for my boy, he asked me,
"Ummi, are you tired?"
He may need a little more training in nurturing, but so far, he's been very well trained in doing housework from hubby's modeling, alhamdulillah.
May Allah make my boys into righteous husbands and fathers and preserve the Quran in their hearts.
Ameen.
This really paid off last night when I was the one who was sick. We had gone out after Asr. I was feeling fine, but after a while I started feeling dizzy and my body started to ache. I had chills too. By the time we got home, I was feverish, and I spent the night under two blankets on the couch, still clad in my abaya and socks, while the family reveled in the unusually pleasant warm weather we've been having in early winter.
When I woke up, hubby and H had gone to the masjid, and S and N were sitting on the floor, reading, while Baby Z sat in his chair blabbering while sucking his hand. I motioned for S to give Baby Z to me, as I knew that he wanted to nurse. It was his bedtime. As I sat up and nursed Baby Z, S and N began to peel the clementines we had bought, one after another. S asked me if I wanted any, I weakly nodded.
Before long, both N and S were feeding me sections of clementines while I nursed Baby Z, who, in the beginning even pulled away from the nipple with each section of clementines popped in my mouth. After a while, he continued nursing, which lasted for maybe an hour.
Even while I was pregnant, the kids showed a lot of mercy to me by helping me with my socks, my shoe laces and getting me stuff I couldn't get up to get myself. Alhamdulillah.
I couldn't help but think of the story of Ibn Umar and the man who had carried his mother on back from Persia all the way to Makkah for hajj while S and N were feeding me clementines.
The man asked Ibn Umar,
"Have I repaid my mother?"
Ibn Umar replied,
"Not even by one contraction, for she did things for you out of pure love while you do this out of debt and you are just waiting for her to die."
May Allah make my girls into righteous wives and mothers and grant them a special place in Jannah.
As for my boy, he asked me,
"Ummi, are you tired?"
He may need a little more training in nurturing, but so far, he's been very well trained in doing housework from hubby's modeling, alhamdulillah.
May Allah make my boys into righteous husbands and fathers and preserve the Quran in their hearts.
Ameen.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Going Bananas!
Ever since the elimination diet, I've been forced to make my own snacks in order to preserve my sanity. Trust me, between craving things I can't eat and watching hubby and kids munch chocolate and slurp ice cream, I am this much from going bananas!
However, seeing that homeschooling takes up a lot of mental power and kitchen and housekeeping time, it just makes it much more difficult for me to do these extra 'cooking' in the kitchen, not to mention the high maintenance babe, so I had to employ S to do some frying for me.
After a while, I left S by herself to do the frying, after telling her to drop small blobs of the banana-coconut milk-flour batter in the hot oil. I went upstairs to put Baby Z to sleep, and when I came down, as I looked into the container of the done 'Jemput-Jemput', I noticed that S had made big blobs anyway. Well, for a ten year-old and a first time Jemput-Jemput maker, she did very good!
Jemput-jemput (banana fritters), or what my pseudo-Malay kids call, "Jumput-jumput."
However, seeing that homeschooling takes up a lot of mental power and kitchen and housekeeping time, it just makes it much more difficult for me to do these extra 'cooking' in the kitchen, not to mention the high maintenance babe, so I had to employ S to do some frying for me.
After a while, I left S by herself to do the frying, after telling her to drop small blobs of the banana-coconut milk-flour batter in the hot oil. I went upstairs to put Baby Z to sleep, and when I came down, as I looked into the container of the done 'Jemput-Jemput', I noticed that S had made big blobs anyway. Well, for a ten year-old and a first time Jemput-Jemput maker, she did very good!
Jemput-jemput (banana fritters), or what my pseudo-Malay kids call, "Jumput-jumput."
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Texas Dawah Convention 2007
Five star hotels don't have microwaves and refrigerators in the rooms.
Considering we are not actually financially qualified to stay in five star hotels, that came as a big surprise to us, as we wanted to save on food expenditures. We requested a fridge, and used our rice cooker and steamer to heat up our food.
Like I said in the previous post, the beds are our yusra. Alhamdulillah. Hubby, Baby Z and I grabbed our much needed sleep that Friday morning, while S,N, and H explored the hotel room, and tested the bed's spring. I think they rated the spring as being in very good condition.
Knowing I would fall asleep and never wake up for the rest of the day, I took to washing by hand in the bathtub, all of our dirty clothes. After 14 years of leaving boarding school, in which we scrubbed our own dirty laundry by hand each weekend, I realized that I had forgotten how back-breaking it could be. From then on, I told the kids to wash their own clothes as they shower. I washed mine, hubby's and Baby Z's.
The arduous planning and preparation I had gone through prior to the trip was fruitful, except for one thing. I forgot to bring cooking oil, which probably is a good thing too anyway.
We ate white rice with sardines, spaghetti and its sauce, and white rice with some chicken bought from the food court downstairs. It was hard work for me having to prepare the food each morning especially since the steamer took so long to heat up can of tomato-flavored sardines, and I suffered sleep deprivation, again.
To top it off, Baby Z caught a cold and couldn't sleep one particular night due to coughing. he was miserable at the babysitting too, though he didn't exactly cry. The babysitters said he just kept pouting whenever he seemed to remember that I had left him to go to the lectures.
S never failed to put a scowl on her face whenever we sent her to the MIST Jr.
"I don't like dodge ball!" she complained.
AFfer the second day though, she began to smile a little, and told me about some games they played that she participated in. As I had told Baby Z's babysitter to call on S whenever Baby Z is unconsolable, they did call her several times, which probably gave her some respite from the dreaded MIST Jr. dodgeballs.
H made some friends in his age group, and seemed to be having fun.
N enjoyed the Kidzone so much that she refused to be picked up on the very last day, such that hubby had to physically pick her up. She didn't look too happy. The tears were proof. It was bittersweet. I felt sentimental on the last day too. if I were her age, I would probably cry too.
All in all, the convention was an experience to savor. I still miss it. It was hecti for me, considering I had to prepare the food, tend to Baby Z, dash from the lecture hall to the Kidzone and nurse Baby Z back and forth each time, pick up each kid at the specified time from different rooms, and keep up with doing the dishes in the bathroom, and also the laundry, along with the task or organizing and packing stuff so we wouldn't be rummaging endlessly in the van. It was mentally and physically draining, and I am still recovering, but it was really worth it! Alhamdulillah.
Baby Z's eczema surprisingly got better, much much better down there in Houston. When we got back to Ohio, it got worse.
On Monday, we went to see the pediatrician, and when we told him of the eczema, he said,
"Either that, or you will all have to move to Houston."
Hubby even said the day before,
"I have to find ajob in Houston?"
"Why?" I asked.
"Because Z's eczema is better there."
It must be the humidity.
The experience at the convention is just too rich to be written about in one post. Nevertheless, I don't think I have the luxury of time to write about it extensively even though I want to.
Let's just say, for now at least, that I am really really glad we went.
Considering we are not actually financially qualified to stay in five star hotels, that came as a big surprise to us, as we wanted to save on food expenditures. We requested a fridge, and used our rice cooker and steamer to heat up our food.
Like I said in the previous post, the beds are our yusra. Alhamdulillah. Hubby, Baby Z and I grabbed our much needed sleep that Friday morning, while S,N, and H explored the hotel room, and tested the bed's spring. I think they rated the spring as being in very good condition.
Knowing I would fall asleep and never wake up for the rest of the day, I took to washing by hand in the bathtub, all of our dirty clothes. After 14 years of leaving boarding school, in which we scrubbed our own dirty laundry by hand each weekend, I realized that I had forgotten how back-breaking it could be. From then on, I told the kids to wash their own clothes as they shower. I washed mine, hubby's and Baby Z's.
The arduous planning and preparation I had gone through prior to the trip was fruitful, except for one thing. I forgot to bring cooking oil, which probably is a good thing too anyway.
We ate white rice with sardines, spaghetti and its sauce, and white rice with some chicken bought from the food court downstairs. It was hard work for me having to prepare the food each morning especially since the steamer took so long to heat up can of tomato-flavored sardines, and I suffered sleep deprivation, again.
To top it off, Baby Z caught a cold and couldn't sleep one particular night due to coughing. he was miserable at the babysitting too, though he didn't exactly cry. The babysitters said he just kept pouting whenever he seemed to remember that I had left him to go to the lectures.
S never failed to put a scowl on her face whenever we sent her to the MIST Jr.
"I don't like dodge ball!" she complained.
AFfer the second day though, she began to smile a little, and told me about some games they played that she participated in. As I had told Baby Z's babysitter to call on S whenever Baby Z is unconsolable, they did call her several times, which probably gave her some respite from the dreaded MIST Jr. dodgeballs.
H made some friends in his age group, and seemed to be having fun.
N enjoyed the Kidzone so much that she refused to be picked up on the very last day, such that hubby had to physically pick her up. She didn't look too happy. The tears were proof. It was bittersweet. I felt sentimental on the last day too. if I were her age, I would probably cry too.
All in all, the convention was an experience to savor. I still miss it. It was hecti for me, considering I had to prepare the food, tend to Baby Z, dash from the lecture hall to the Kidzone and nurse Baby Z back and forth each time, pick up each kid at the specified time from different rooms, and keep up with doing the dishes in the bathroom, and also the laundry, along with the task or organizing and packing stuff so we wouldn't be rummaging endlessly in the van. It was mentally and physically draining, and I am still recovering, but it was really worth it! Alhamdulillah.
Baby Z's eczema surprisingly got better, much much better down there in Houston. When we got back to Ohio, it got worse.
On Monday, we went to see the pediatrician, and when we told him of the eczema, he said,
"Either that, or you will all have to move to Houston."
Hubby even said the day before,
"I have to find ajob in Houston?"
"Why?" I asked.
"Because Z's eczema is better there."
It must be the humidity.
The experience at the convention is just too rich to be written about in one post. Nevertheless, I don't think I have the luxury of time to write about it extensively even though I want to.
Let's just say, for now at least, that I am really really glad we went.
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