Miscellaneous

Alhamdulillah life post OHVA is lighter and freer. Almost every morning now, if the sun is out and shining, I send the kids outside, and tell them to take Baby Z along. No, I don't get to really sit down and have coffee and read the morning newspaper, but I can now tidy up the house, take a shower and sit down at the computer in an empty household. However, I have started telling them to make sure the house is tidy before they dash outside to frolic in the morning sun. It's very frustrating to be doing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast and walk into a messy living room or rooms, and no one to hail to do my bidding. As I struggle to complete writing my article assignments, I also struggle finding time to sit down long enough without being interrupted by a baby needing to nurse, a baby dropped in the living room as his sibs return back outside to continue their outdoor play, and a set of rowdy children banging the door behind them as they barrel in the front door.

Not so much freedom for me, but alhamdulillah baby Z's eczema seems to have abated significantly ever since his nap schedule became regular.

Since I wasn't that busy logging in hours, attendance, checking lesson progress, and dealing with a myriad of issues pertaining to the OLS of OHVA, I've been able to actually nurse Baby Z in peace, albeit it being an hour straight at a time. We're all much much happier now, and I've even started to take interest in baking again.

I coaxed them to bake something for themselves, and one day they made meringue cookies. Yesterday they made cookies to make ice cream sandwiches with. As for me, I baked myself my Namaste Carrot Cake again, but this time using Ener-G egg replacer, hoping for a normal cake. Alas, I seem to have taken the cake out too soon, and all I got was a gummy, spice-laden carrot cale. At least, I think that's the problem. Nevertheless, I'm only more determined to experiment until I get it right. So I'm inshaallah going to play around with cake recipes or if I'm lucky, after doing more reading on the chemistry revolving different kinds of flours, I might come up with my own recipe.

H had his last soccer game of the season this morning. He scored a goal, and the weather was really pleasant too, allahu akbar. I had boiled some corn for them this morning and we brought the whole pot with us. As usual, hubby stood on the sidelines and churned out shouts after shouts of encouragement, commands, comments, and amused disappointment throughout the whole game. S was busy chomping on a corn, and calmly, she asked her father,

"Wanna a corn?"

"No, not now. I'm shouting," he replied, not taking his eyes off the players on the field.

"That's why he needs the corn," S said to me, and I burst into laughter.

We finally bought gates to put at the kids' doorway, the kitchen hallway, and the front door hallway today. The house hasn't been child-proofed for Baby Z, as I anticipated moving out, but it's not happening anytime soon it seems. Handy S and H set up the gates, much to their parents' pleasure, especially hubby's. He wasn't that enthusiastic about putting them up, but alhamdulillah we have some handykids around. Proud of their handiness they are too!

As for me, I am still buried under the task of reading my high stack of books, and have yet to finish my writing assignments, which has been driving me crazy to say the least. I just realized that I have only spent Ramadan in Malaysia in my 'childhood', since I came here at the age of 20 and have spent Ramadan here ever since. I have never experienced Ramadan as a wife and mother in my home country. How sad is that? Nevertheless, it sure has some perks too, alhamdulillah.

And alhamdulillah, my lengthy nursing times in the room have been spent listening to Anwar Awlaki's Umar Ibn A-Khattab, and suffice it to say, it has infused me in this ethereal world of the sahaba. Even Baby Z looks forward to the lecture whenever it's time to nurse for his naps and bedtimes. Life with Baby Z is much much more enjoyable now, especially because I'm finally able to relax into a schedule that is more like the one I'm used to when S, N, and H were younger.

Without the pressure and hassle of OHVA, life seems much more relaxing. Plus, the weather is still spring-like, though the flowers on the trees have mostly dispersed, leaving the trees green, making it look more like summer.

Inshaallah it seems like I'm taking the next Almaghrib class: Seerah, the Shepherd's Path in mid June, even though I said I probably won't. Circumstances inshaallah have changed such that it would be quite possible for us to do it with less hassle than before, bi iznillah. I look forward to this class.
So now, before I feel like I have wasted my time yet again on the computer, while two writing assignments are yet to be finished, I'd better sign off, and wait till much later before I finish up those 4 drafts sitting in my blogger account. Plus, I have a one year old who is starting to wail because he is probably bored because all his sibs have left him with his mother who is on the computer typing away, and hubby, as he does every Saturday evening, has gone off to play soccer. A mother never gets to completely rest, does she? In Jannah inshaallah, in jannah.

Batu Seremban

I savor and relish this traditional childhood game I used to enjoy in elementary school, way back. I have a feeling that almost every culture has its own version of this game. Jacks is probably the American version of Batu Seremban.

There are many versions of this game in Malaysia too. The one that I'm used to is the one using 5 buah (direct translation : fruit, but in context, it refers to one beanie bag). I have made it for the kids couple of years ago, but since they couldn't master the skills needed for the game, it didn't stay long in our household. Recently, I made it again, this time, one set for each child. S made some of her own too. We used uncooked lentils for the filling.

It can also be played with pebbles, but I prefer the soft version. They look real cute too. When I played it, if the one you're not picking even slightly moved, you're out. With this soft type, it's even more difficult than the pebbles, since sometimes, they would lie on top of one another, and even if you pick the top one, the one under it would move too, even if it's just the fabric that moved.

The kids still haven't yet mastered the skills needed to play the game, but they're still working on it. In fact, even Baby Z tried a hand at playing it, much to our surprise. We had just finished our salat, and were sitting down doing zikr. As usual, Baby Z roamed about the room, weaving between us, smoothing out our prayer rugs, messing it up again, and climbing on hubby's stretched legs.

When he saw his sibs tossing the buah in the air and catching them, he took one buah in his chubby hand, grasped it tight, and started to shake that hand left to right, as if shaking a rattle. I suppose he was trying to toss it into the air like his sisters and brother. As he observed the buahs being tossed about, he suddenly opened that hand, releasing his grip on the buah, and tilted his hand so the buah fell to the floor.

All of us broke into laughter. It was really amusing to see Baby Z trying to imitate his sibs playing Batu Seremban. After a while though, the game no longer fascinated him, and he moved on to trying to close and open the bedroom door, eating the buah, much to our collective gasps, and trying to pull out my pendrive from the tower.

A New Baby!

We were honored to be part of the joyous occasion of one of our close friends last weekend alhamdulillah. The kids made cards for Auntie Sh.'s new baby, and I couldn't help chuckling at H's card content,

"I hope the baby won't have exima."

Subhanallah, I'm touched by the kids' well wishes for Baby B, not to be afflicted with the same affliction as Baby Z, alhamdulillah!

N kept saying,

"I hope she won't have eczema like Z."

Of course S and N also expressed the sentiment,

"I wish she was my baby sister."

Just as they fought to hold Baby Z, they also fought over holding Baby B. S later on said to me,

"Auntie Sh let me hold her by myself."

Sh had let N and H hold Baby B too, but while she was still holding Baby B, but S, Sh trusted her completely.

It made me recall the times when we had S, N, and H. S is a natural nurturer. When N arrived, she was happy to be a big sister. She immediately doted over N, and I do believe that N's dependence now is partly a result of S's 'big sister' persona.

As for N, when H came, she tried to swat him, and growing up together, she had done things to him that were not obvious to us. We could thank her itty bitty hand for H's articifial dimple now. H, on the other hand, had urinated a fountain when his sisters came to visit him at the hospital. The fountain barely missed N's skirt. I guess you can say the feeling was mutual.

However, now, N is the one to stay out of quarrels, and mind her own business. While S and H have their verbal and sometimes physical fights, N would discreetly stay away and not get herself involved.

I think we will have some fun with Baby B, now that Baby Z is no longer 'the baby' in town.

Summer of '04

I just realized that this blog began in 2005, and as I was looking through our photos in our folders on the computer, I was swept into nostalgic moments. In 2004, the kids were age 7, 6, and 4, and I was pregnant with J.

J was due in December of '04. The kids were excited at the prospect of getting a baby brother or sister, that after my first ultrasound, they prattled on about the 'baby' in the picture. It had been 4 years since I had been pregnant, and the pregnancy was a little hard on me compared to the first three. That summer, I was about 5 months pregnant.

We had gone to Michigan to buy Islamic books at NoorArt's old warehouse, and on the way back, we stopped by a shopping outlet and bought some baby clothes for J. I did a lot that summer. We did a lot. Even though my baking spree was less than when we were in Iowa, I still did some baking. In fact, compared to now, my baking then was much much more than my baking now. I found the occasion to make a carousel cake for the family, but instead of horses, I made bicycles, one for each of them; hubby, S, N, and H. It took maybe about a week or so to make everything from the carousel top, bicycles, cakes, and the planning.

As usual, the kids attended summer school at the masjid, and looking at the pictures, I recall this year as quite a tough one for S. She had to memorize surahs and ahadith back to back, and her teacher made her write it down in the process of memorization. She really worked hard that summer though, and I was very impressed with her arabic handwriting. Even to this day, her arabic handwriting is much much much better than her English handwriting (yes, emphasis on the comparison). Her English handwriting suffice it to say, receives a lot of 'comments' from me. And H seems to follow suit. N, on the other hand, actually flourishes in both Arabic and English handwriting, but then again, this girl also draws rather extensively on her worksheets. I can't help being amused by the drawings of hands with index finger pointing to the answer she provided on her worksheets. I told her,

"I don't really mind you doing that with me, but if you are to send your work to a teacher, don't do that."

She nodded, with a pleased smile, for, in trying to get her used to providing me with a 'clean' worksheet, I reprimanded all her doodlings. After a while, I realized that it's not that big a deal, as long as she knows not to do it when it matters.

It was also the summer where I discovered a very simple cake from an Egyptian friend who had invited us over to her house. When she served us the cake, I asked her what it's called, but she didn't provide me with a name, but told me how it's made.

I later on tried to make it myself, and together, with the kids, we named it Biscake. Looking back, I think I have been letting them name food creations since they were very young. Recently, we've had dishes named Spicetti (fried spaghetti with a lot of spice), Spaguna (fried spaghetti with tuna), and my favorite one, Cheesy-Yum (baked spaghetti with cheese on top). The cake above was named Biscake because it was made from tea biscuits, but had the texture of cake when done. Since it required no baking, I taught them to make it themselves. The only thing that hinders us from having too much of it is the amount of fat it harbors, and the price of the table cream used to make it. Now that S knows how to bake without supervision, ironically, we have had even less baking in the house. I think she doesn't feel compelled to do it because I'm not there such that she has to take on the role of 'mother'. I guess I can't really blame her for that, for I understand the 'burden' of cleaning up after a baking and cake decorating session. Even my mother, who once had a home bakery that took wedding cake orders quit production due to the toll it was taking on her.

I had made a backpack for S, and that summer, I made one for N too, since she started going to summer school with S. When it came to H's turn, I was too spent to make a backpack for him. However, over the years, we have managed to collect free bags of many kinds from Summer Reading Programs, events, and most recently, the Texas Dawah Conference.

The summer came to an end with J's demise in August. In fact, that was what prompted me to rekindle my love for writing, as it was truly therapeutic for me. Supposed to be born in December, J returned to His Creator sometime in my 5th - 6th month of pregnancy. The second ultrasound showed no heartbeat, and as both hubby and I wept, the kids shrank back in their seats, probably shocked and confused over what had taken place. Only S, I think truly understood. On the day of J's burial, I told them of the whereabouts of their dead brother, with Prophet Ibrahim. It was a summer with a lesson; a lesson in embracing death as a fact of life, and I feel grateful for that experience, as it has probably left a significant impact on the kids' perception of the afterlife.

On Quran Memorization

Every morning, after Fajr, everyone, including Baby Z would be seated in the kids' room, doing something related to the Quran. It came about rather gradually, I think, because it wasn't really planned. It just happened. After the post salah zikr, hubby would pick one of them to review a memorized surah with him, or do a new one. To optimize time, he would instruct the other two to pair off and have one of them check the other's memorization on a memorized surah. Alhamdulillah they are big enough to be able to read the mushaf and check each other's memorization, well...with the exception of N, who still pretty much depends on everyone. Usually, it would be her who is picked to review with hubby, or if she is one of the paired, she would be the one who is checked. Sometimes, hubby would also instruct the pair to read from the Quran instead of check memorization.

As for Baby Z, who has been up for Fajr since he was only a few months old, he would break into a big wide smile whenever he sees the big green mushaf being opened and put on the rehal. With glee, he would crawl to it, and put his hands over the pages. Before, he would actually try to flip the pages, but after several explicit exclamations from us, he would now approach, watch us, and gently touch it. His interest though, has moved from the big green mushaf, to the small pocket mushaf that we use for checking memorization. May he be of the likes of Zayd Ibn Thabit, his namesake, Ameen.

My memorization process, sad to say, has been going on very slowly. Now, at one ayah per day, I have yet to finish a surah that I started memorizing in the summer of 2006, astaghfirullah! Ever since I started memorizing it, we have been playing Saad Al Ghamidi's recitation of that paricular surah over and over again, such that the kids accidentally memorized parts of it. Funny how Quran memorization seems to happen rather accidentally with them. Their bedtime ritual, when they were younger, was me reading the three Quls and ayatul kursi to them. S was around 3 and N was about 2 years old. Everytime I tucked them into bed, I would recite the surahs to them, not expecting them to memorize it. Before long though, they were chimig in with me, and in joy, I recited the verses halfway, letting them finish off the ends. Before I knew it, they were memorising the surahs, with no big effort on my part, subhanallah. However, after we moved, I didn't keep up the review, and they forgot.

When we decided to resume their memorization, it required more than one person, as we got to the longer surahs. Even checking their reading alone was too much for me, as each kid required a different kind of patience from me. I had started out assigning one child to read one page of the mushaf, but we would end up spending about up to an hour per person just to read that one page. I gave up, stopped for a while, fretted, mulled, and bounced back with a new solution; half a page per child.

When I was teaching them to read using the IQRA series, it was the same way; we would spend so much time on one page per child, that I would be stripped of all patience (not that I had much to begin with anyway) by the end of the session with just one child. I remember telling a close friend,

"Don't do a long session with her. A short one is more effective, and it will keep you from burning out."

She had told me of her daughter's refusal to read, and after what I had gone through, I told her the above. It truly did work better; short sessions. Subhanallah, the best deeds are those that are done consistently. I was too ambitious trying to have each child read one page, in the hopes that they would get more practice, but I only ended up with three cranky children, and a very cranky mother. A revamping was definitely in order. And revamping we did, alhamdulillah with much better results.

When I got pregnant, sessions grew more difficult, as I needed to leave or rest. After Baby Z arrived, it gre even more difficult, hence hubby's intervention, or should I say, take over! Alhamdulillah, at least now, we're utilizing after Fajr rather productively, and all without planning too. I'm a planner by nature. I cannot function well without proper planning, but there are just times when what you plan don't pan out, you lose your head. I have many of those moments, and so I have learned to let things go at times, and not be too uptight. I consider this a test of my 'perfectionism'. I have learned to overlook what seems to me to be imperfections, and just keep my mouth shut. Alhamdulillah, it wasn't easy, but I think I have managed to be a little flexible, maybe even too flexible at times.

Suffice it to say, H has moved on very well with regards to memorization. He did say,

"I'm going to memorize the whole Quran when I'm ten!"

after hearing Safi Khan's lecture on Imam Ahmad Hanbal.

I have noticed that he seems to have a knack for memorizing, to which hubby would simply roll his eyes and snort, since he is the one who has to work with H so painstakingly. Nevertheless, whether it's a natural tendency, or something that has developed through hard core training (courtesy to Abu H), H does seem to pick up on Quran memorization rather easily, at least compared to the rest of us!

One morning, as they all rushed downstairs to have breakfast, I lingered behind, repeating the ayah I was working on over and over again. I was having trouble memorizing it, and kept getting stuck at one particular point. H happened to still be standing there, listening to me struggling to get my ayah of the day. S had finished memorizing the surah last Ramadan. Hubby made her memorize it since she had already accidentally memorized it through audio absorption. So sometimes, I would work on the surah, and have her check me, or just plain depend on her to tell me what was next. That morning, she wasn't there, but H was. Out of frustration, I casually trailed off and asked H to continue the rest of the ayah for me. He responded. I checked my small mushaf, and he was correct. Elated, I worked on it again, relying on him to correct me. He did, a couple of times, until I moved on to another part of the ayah, to which he said to me,

"I'll call S."

He grew tired of helping his poor old mother I suppose.

On another occasion, S was checking my memorization, and again, I was painstakingly struggling to get the ayah. H was sitting next to us, fiddling with something, and at one point, he gave me a look that appeared to me to say,

"What's so difficult?"

Later on, I asked him why he looked at me like that, and he said,

"It was easy."

Subhanallah! Alhamdulillah...may Allah make it easy for him, and eradicate any pride in him. Ameen.

I have two more ayah to finish the surah. It has been a very pathetic crawl, but inshaallah I'll finally finish it and retain it. With much needed assists from the kids. Ameen.

Winter Creations

I remember my first encounter with snow. I was 16, and we were in Switzerland. Having a father who loves to travel, I find myself rather fortunate to have been brought to places from a young age.

As I stepped out of the tour bus, the soles of my sneaker hit slippery ice, and I grabbed on to the door of the bus. Looking back, I know now that snow had probably not fallen for a few days then. But back then, I was too excited at finally seeing snow that it didn't really disappoint me that the fallen snow was hard. Now I would call that kind of snow, 'stale snow'. The best snow is fresh snow, just having transformed from water droplets to snowflakes, subhanallah.

I wasn't able to make snowballs back then, on that mountain slope in Switzerland, but after living here for 11 years, I have had more than enough opportunities to play with snow. Yet, I never truly did play with snow, because my first reunion with snow was the first year I got here, during which I was pregnant, and more concerned about tumbling in the snow than playing with it. In fact, my first semester was filled with chilly mornings in which I had to trudge through mushy snow-dirt combo by the streets, with S inside of me. I had countless falls and slips on ice patches on campus too, and every year after that, for two years, I seemed to be bestowed with a living being inside of me. Playing with snow was not at the top of my list.

Now, I see my children enjoying the rather royal and majestic precipitation, and though I love to watch the snow blanket the evergreen shrubs, cars, creating soft mounds and shapes, I was not that moved to venture out and join them in constructing creations from snow.

S's igloo, looked more like a snow queen's throne to me. Everyday after the blizzard, while the snow was still on the ground, much like the snow I encountered in Siwtzerland, she would go out the back porch and work on her 'igloo'.

During the blizzard, which was a Saturday, both H and S dashed outside to play in the pristine white playground. My Saturdays are usually hectic; grocery shopping, Quran lesson at the masjid, and unexpected events. So I just watched them from the window. It really looked like fun, but I remained inside. H stuck his head inside a 'tunnel' while S worked on another creation. N stayed inside, whcih is normal for her, until she probably couldn't take it anymore. She soon joined them.

I personally don't like it when the trees begin to shed their leaves, for it looks so bare and gloomy. However, when the snow falls, things 'look up', because the sun's rays are very brightly reflected upwards by the whiteness of the snow.

"Everything looks pink in here!" the kids shout when they came in the door, panting dragon puffs. The brightness had probably got to them. Reminded me of snow blindness that I read about when I was reading about exploration of the Antartic.

I had discouraged them from makig snowmen, so they utilized their creativity building inanimate things instead. In our shared front yard, they built a tunnel, which was rather cool, for it held up for a few days. It was only when we went out a few days after the blizzard that I noticed the tunnel, still standing.

"Quick! Take a picture of it before someone knocks it down!" I told them.

Today, we are blessed with rain, and even though there are still some snow patches remaining, after looking at these pictures, I find that I actually miss all that snow. I do look forward to spring and all its splash of pastels, but winter does have its own enigma and attraction, which I tend to forget in the midst of trying to warm myself up under our throws on the couch.

Taking Care of Baby Z

It has been almost a week now since Baby Z had his pneumonia.

"Puhnemoniyaa. You have puhnemoniyaa?" I heard them talking to Baby Z.

Baby Z, sitting on the floor, facing them, and they played with the word pneumonia, talking to a rather attentive Baby Z. That was days ago. Today, Baby was listless, refused to eat, nursed only a little bit, and to top it off, I had PMD again.

Alhamdulillah though, the PMD was resolved rather quickly. I have learned to not go at it too much, and just chill (as hubby would say).

By evening, my worry increased, since he had spent the whole day sleeping. I called the doctor, and she said to bring him to the Urgent Care.

"Expect to be there for several hours. They might send him for an X Ray or check him depending on their assessment," she said.

Our problem: we couldn't leave the kids alone at home for several hours.

Hubby told me to go on my own. I panicked inwardly. I hate going anywhere I'm not familiar with on my own especially at night. I told S to come with me. She got ready on the spot. We prayed Maghrib.

By then Baby Z had woken up, and I nursed him. He nursed better than before. H fed him mashed banana. He ate it rather relatively heartily. He even cooed, babbled, smiled, reached out his arm as usual, and my worries dissipated somewhat. Hubby had told the girls, after salat, to sleep with their abaya and hijabs on, because we were all going to go to the ER, drop me off there, leave me there,and pick me up again. In the case that he were to pick me up late in the night he would have to either wake them up or carry them to the van even if they were sleeping. Alhamdulillah, Baby Z's condition improved, and we ditched all plans of going to the hospital. Allahu Akbar!

Lack of sleep was catching up with me by then, and I gave Baby Z to S, and told her to wath him while I slept. Hubby and H went to the masjid for Isha. I napped on the couch in semi darkness. Just before hubby and H came home, S came down, woke me up and said,

"He's a little crybaby," signalling me to take him, as he was starting to fuss.

Groggily, I turned to her, and muttered,

"S, can you change his diaper, please? And then bring him back to me? I'm too tired."

Usually, she balks at changing his dirty diaper. Wet diaper is ok, but dirty diaper, she would refuse. The antibiotic Baby Z is taking, causes diarrhea, and when she unbuttoned his onesie, we clearly saw that his diaper was dirty. I motioned for her to go change him. She did. No complaints. No flinching. Mashaallah!

No wonder the babe loves her. As for me, I might be taking the exam tomorrow after all. All I have to do now is cram for it (yes, despite my philosophical opinions on cramming for an exam).

Baby Z's preference

Baby Z was diagnosed with pneumonia yesterday. On Sunday evening his fever started. His temperature reached 104 F, and at that point he was very red in the face, burning hot, fussy, and unable to sleep.

Yesterday, we spent about 2 hours at the doctor's office, as Baby Z had to be xrayed, and injected with the fist dose of antibiotic for the pneumonia. We went to the doctor's office before 9 am and came home around 11:30 am. I told the kids to do as much school as they could on their own, since I didn't have much sleep myself the night before. Alhamdulillah they did, though it was probably more of a 'fun' day for them.

While I napped with Baby Z, they played outside, constructed their igloo, went sledding on a nearby pseudo hill which we had realized was existent. For Baby Z though, it was far from fun. His fever spiked up again and again. He didn't want to eat, and he developed random temporary affinities for certain people.

Last night, while we were praying, baby Z was sitting in front of us but behind hubby. He kept tugging at hubby's leg, and would cry when we took him. When we were done, he hedl out his arms towards hubby, indicating that he wanted Abi to take him. Obviously he expressed his preference, refusing the rest of us.

At another time, when I was holding him, he fidgeted and looked for S. When he saw her, he reached out both hands towards her, indicating that he wanted her to hold him. She took him, and he immediately laid his head against her chest and wrapped his arms about her shoulders and neck. Subhanallah! The babe only needs me for milk!

S once said to me,

"I think it's going to be a problem if he's too attached to me."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because then when he grows up, he's gonna want me all the time, and I won't be able to do anything."

"Well, that's good for me then, huh?" I grinned.

Both my girls are fond of babies, just like I was when I was a child. I worried that H might not be too fond of them, since he was always complaining about toddlers bothering him while he was praying at the masjid, but alhamdulillah he now dotes over his 'best buddy'. I wanted more babies, even though I knew the hardship that comes with it. I worried about how I was going to homeschool with a new baby, but the fact that Allah gave me one indicates that I do have the strength to bear all these hardships, for Allah does not burden a soul beyond what it can bear. So, even though homeschooling is a little 'crazy' sometimes, with a baby who has extensive eczema, multiple allergies which affect his sleep schedule and such, I do see the ups of it.

The kids simply adore their little brother, mashaallah! The moment they hear even a peep out of him from my room, signifying that he's up from his nap, they would stop their school work, look up at me and ask eagerly,

"Can we take Z?"

If I give a nod, all of them would race to my room, and Baby Z would be greeted with three eager, smiling faces, each fighting to hold him.

All of them feed Baby Z his non breastmilk meals, each taking a turn for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Though they do try to get out of it sometimes, claiming that s/he had already done it for breakfast and that it was his/her turn next, they do still feed him. It's no surprise then that Baby Z is attached to S, because she also changes his diaper whenever I ask her to, and she basically does everything except nurse him.

So even though I am facing these daily hardships with Baby Z while homeschooling, Allah does make easy other things, subhanallah.

Now, may Allah heal and cure his pneumonia, for only He can cure. Ameen.

Winter Blizzard of 2008

It's March, but it looks like this outside. I no longer go by the typical season definition, because in the 11 years we have been staying here in the United States, we have seen snow in May, fall in December (a rather extended Indian summer, I must say), and spring in January. Just last week though, we had brilliant spring weather, such that we took advantage and had lunch outside on the back porch. But, with the arrival of Winter Storm 2008, we are blanketed with a generous dash of pristine, white, flaky precipitation called snow.

Everytime it is all white outside, I am somehow reminded of winter 2004, where I started blogging. The event that started my 'writing' was J's demise. Writing was therapeutic then, and now it's something that I rather need to do. We've had our share of blizzards and Level 2 snow emergencies. Without fail, everytime it happens, the kids would peer out the windows gleefully, asking us in excited voices,

"Can we go outside?"

This morning, after Fajr, they looked out, and gasped,

"Look! Ummi, look!"

There were no streaks, no rifts on the white blanket that had befallen us throughout the night. It was beautiful, mashaallah!

We gave them the 'ok', and S and H bounded downstairs to grab their coats. It has been a while since they frolicked in calf-deep snow, so the snow boots we have in the house, they have somewhat outgrown. While S slipped her feet into my snow boots (yes, I think her feet size is probably the same as mine, and still growing), H was left with the option of wearing S's old pink and purple snow boots. He lingered, not quite knowing what to do.

"Oh, just wear it, H," I said, feeling rather sorry for him, but chuckling inside at the rather comical situation.

'No one'll notice you wearing the pink boots."

"Or no one will peer out to see that there's a boy wearing pink boots," I added, honestly thinking that people will notice him wearing the pink boots, against the all-white backdrop.

"No..."he said, and headed towards the 'office' under the stairs to rummage through our shoe box for more masculine snow boots.

He ended up wearing my brown snow boots, as S came in, and S wore her old pink snow boots. I guess they're not too tight then. They trudged about in the snow while N remained inside, huddled in her blanket, reading a book.

I love staying inside too, as much as I love the outdoors when the mood strikes. I don't think I've ever gone sledding in this 11 years. Just being able to relax while the little kiddies mind their own business was a holiday enough for me. And now, with another little kiddie in the house, I also savor my warmth. No adventurous streaks in me now. They've been suppressed, for now.

We are now under level 2 snow emergency, so we can't really go out if it's not necessary. Too bad we don't have a hill, not even a pseudo one in the neighborhood, for maybe just today, I might be able to muster up some adveturouse streak under all those mammary glands.

N's voice

stars

The beautiful night sky
Is full of stars,
But stop right there,
DON'T MAKE A WISH!!!
If you just make a wish,
It is Shirk,
Only pray to
Just one God,
And His name is
The only One ALLAH!

fish

This little tiny fish
Named Fish or Wish,
But people call him Fish,
Because he is!

Pome 2

Did you just know
That these three mice
Were riding on the pavement,
Not so nice,
They fell into a hole, but
Serves them right,
And they just made a sound
Like a nut,
Crash, crash, crash,
But no one really cared,
And ate ice cream,
Just don't forget the mice,
They froze to
ICE!!!

Pome

I want a pet

I really want a cat,
Unlike a rat or a bat,
What I really want is just a
CAT, CAT, CAT!
It will curl up at the foot
Of my woody bunk bed,
And will purr, purr, purr, but
Best of all, it will have-I just can't tell,
Oh, alright, I will just tell you,
These little pussy things, that just might be
A boy or a girl,
And are really really small,
Like just about--
Five inches,
And I guess that now you know
What I mean,
Because what I mean is a-
K-I-T-T-E-N, KITTEN!!!

You Can Give People Hints Without Telling Them The Whole Thing!

Today, after my bath, my annoying sister, S, told Ummi that I was peeling my scabs, not picking, behind the bathroom door. But she told Ummi like this,"Ummi, you might not want me to tell you this." She grinned uglily. "What?" Ummi asked curiously. "You'll think I'm a tattle-tale," S answered, which she is. "Of what?" Ummi asked. "N was doing something behind the door," Sakwakatoocheeinah said, shifting Little Bebe Zea'. "Like what?" Ummi asked, eyes wide. "Something that's serious," Ugly Big Bottom Lip S said. "Oh, now I know," Ummi said. See? YOU CAN GIVE PEOPLE HINTS WITHOUT TELLING THEM THE WHOLE THING!

***********************

N loves writing, and it seems that she best expressed herself through the written form, as it is quite a feat to try to get words out of her. Her voice resonates with her unique personality through her writing, which rather surprised me, because it seems to be quite a strong personality.

There is nothing like celebrating the differences in our children, mashaallah! Each of them has his/her own specialty. I particularly am very amused and tickled by N's post above, which she had put on her blog (which I have not made available on purpose - they all have their own blogs) weeks ago.

I intend to write a personal family memoir pertaining to each of them, but seeing how badly I'm managing my time, I wonder if I will ever get to that 'wish list item'.

On the move - Four-Limb-Drive

Baby Z have started to become mobile in the real sense. He is now crawling (still at the beginner's level though) and pulling himself up to stand. In addition, he's also babbling,

"Mamamamamamama,"

and

"Babababababababa,"

and maybe also,

"Papapapapapapa."

To note, he did start with the consonant M first, if I do say so myself.

The kids have become more attached to him now that he's more fun to interact with. It's not uncommon to hear exclamations,

"Oh he's so cute!"

"I can't bear it!"

"He's the cutest baby!"

However, Baby Z has also developed quite a temper, especially when things are taken from him. He has started growling, a deep growl that when I mimic, would drive him into peals of laughter. But when you take things away from him, or interrupt his play or exploration, he would protest with a cry and if you try to pick him up he will stiffen his body and go red in the face. Quite a spectacle to behold. I can only imagine what it would be like when he's in the terrible two age. Oy vey.

I told S,

"I think you and him will be close when he grows up."

"I think he's already attached to me," she said, as she continued feeding him his lunch, while I ate mine, getting ready for the nursing session that was to come afterwards.

"Why?" I asked, surprised that she would make such a statement.

"Because whenever I hold out my arms to him he would be gleeful and smile."

That is true. He does light up whenever Big Sister S offers to pick him up. S is practically like a mother to him. The only thing she doesn't do for him is breastfeeding and changing his poopy diaper. I would give up trying to put him down for his nap, and would usually leave it to her, as she seem to have knack for it, amazingly, ever since Baby Z was a young baby.

Whenever we make salat, we would put him in front of us, and occupy him with something to play with. Most of the times he would sit and watch us as we make ruku' and stand while playing with his item of choice. At other times, he would pat our heads when we make sujud in his vicinity, or worse, start moving away, thus inducing in us increasing fear of him going to forbidden areas.

As we all scramble to pull him back to us whenever he would move towards forbidden areas or items, I recall Dr. D's words of wisdom,

"Enjoy his immobility, because once they start moving, they never stop."

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.

The New Toy

"This is for your kids," she said, and handed me a rectangular golden-colored box.

Completely taken aback, I asked her, "Why?"

"Oh, nothing, just something for your family," she replied with a laugh.

"Aww, jazakillah khair!"

It was an IPOD, containing Tafsir, Quran recitations, Ahadeeth, Asmaa ul Husna and the meaning, plus a feature for recording voices.

Suffice it to say, this became the newest toy in the house. Just before I set out to compose this entry, I had to tell H,

"H, go shower," for the umpteenth time.

He had been sitting in his chair and on the bed, earphones stuck in his ears, spectacled eyes glued to the screen of the IPOD, while Saad Al Ghamidi's recitation of Surah Al Baqarah rang faintly through the earphones.

"Ummi, do you know that Surah AlBaqarah has so many stories?" he asked me, taking one earphone out of his ear.

"Ummi, why is it in Surah Al Baqarah, there was so many ayat that says that the if the Jews don't listen to the Tawrah and Injil, that they would be punished?"

"Did you pass the story of the cow yet?" I asked him.

"Yeah."

"Ummu, there's a story of Musa and the twelve springs, do you know what number that is?" he asked me back.

"No," I replied.

"Sixty," he said, with a somewhat smug voice.

"And it's in the Quran challenge game too, " he continued.

"I like surah Al Baqarah," he annonced out of the blue, still listening to the recitation.

Yesterday, while I was in the kitchen, making two of my Luscious Trifle pies, I peeked at the kids in the living room. S was sitting with Baby Z, holding him with one hand, while the other held the IPOD playing surah Yusuf, and her eyes was glued to the screen, reading the translation of each ayah as it was recited.

Another snapshot was of H reclining on the couch with Baby Z half lying on his lap, one hand holding the IPOD, while Baby Z fingered the wires of the earphones, cheeks and lips plopping in concentration. He wore what hubby would have dubbed the 'Chinese face'.

May Allah reward the sister and whoever else is involved in the generous gesture of Muslim sisterhood immensely for this wonderful gift. Ameen.

Handling my 'Best Buddy'

H always calls Baby Z his 'Best Buddy'. Today, H really helped me out by entertaining his 'Best Buddy' in his time of need.

We were out of lunch and dinner food. I had to cook, so I nursed Baby Z. As usual, he fell asleep while nursing, so I brought him upstairs, placed him on the bed and proceeded to leave the room. He opened his eyes, saw me and started to smile. I kissed his forehead, as usual, told him to sleep, and left the room. He cried for a few seconds and then quieted down.

N hadn't yet takend a bath, and needed to take the hair brush from my room.

"Ummi, Z is not crying, can I go to your room to get the brush?"

I nodded.

As soon as she closed the door after her, Baby Z started wailing. He never stopped. Sighing, I picked him up and put him on his blanket in the living room, while I proceeded to have whatever food is left for lunch. By the time I was about to cook, he was cranky again, so I nursed him again till he fell asleep.

Again, I put him on the bed. He woke up and cried. I left the room anyway, hoping he'd fall asleep after a while. He didn't so I picked him up, and told H to entertain Baby Z while I cooked.

Did H really went all out to keep Baby Z entertained.

At first H lamented,

"But he wouldn't laugh!"

"He won't laugh, 'cause he's sleepy, but I need to cook now, and so you need to keep him busy."

H did his soccer stunts while Baby Z sat on the couch watching him. I managed to finish making the Mee kari and Agar-agar, do the dishes, and clean the kitchen and fridge.

In the midst of it all, I called H to the kitchen, gave him a hug and told him how big of a help he was. You don't get moments like these always, and when you do, you really treasure it, and make your appreciation known.

Too bad the age difference is pretty big between H and Baby Z. it'll be sometime before H could play soccer with Baby Z, but it'd be interesting to see how the dynamics of their relationship would be when Baby Z grows a little bigger. I was worried about H's acceptance of Baby Z before Baby Z was born. Alhamdulilah, H has turned out to be quite a Big Brother, mashaallah.

Hello Cheeky!

S is my right hand man. She gives Baby Z a bath. She changes his diapers. She puts him to sleep. In fact, she has been putting Baby Z down for his nap ever since he was a month old. She could do it better than me, because with me, Baby Z will always look for a feeding even when he's more sleepy than hungry. With S, he falls asleep, mostly on her chest.

"He's sleeping?" I would ask disbelievingly, when S would come out of my room after putting him to sleep.

S would nod.

One evening, while waiting for hubby to come home, the girls and I were crocheting on the couch, while H played with Baby Z on the floor. Suddenly, H called out to me,

"Ummi, he's wet over here!" showing me two wet ping pong ball-sized spots on Baby Z's bottom.

Befuddled, I stared at it, trying to figure out if it was urine. It didn't seem to come out from any of the usual leakage point, which would be the sides of his waist. The spots were on his bottom where the diaper would have been covering.

"Do you want me to check it?" asked H.

I gave him the green light and he proceeded to unbutton his brother's onesie.

"Look!" H uttered, and all our eyes laid upon the most unbelievable sight of the day.

My jaw must have hit the couch with a thud.

Cooing and chuckling, Baby Z lay face down on H's lap while his left bottom greet us with a cheeky 'hello'. The diaper had come undone on one side, exposing one cheek, and opening the flood gate at the same time.

The minutes that followed were full of uncontrollable laughter and Baby Z's chuckles.

"S, you didn't put his diaper on properly," I said, still laughing.

"Yes, I did!" she insisted, still laughing too.

"Well, he must have tried to open it as usual, and you buttoned him up without fixing it," I said.

Meanwhile, Baby Z cooed and babbled away.

"Oh! Oh! get the camera!" I exclaimed.

'Oh no, the battery's low," I uttered, as I remembered that I had forgotten to recharge it.

Well, my right hand 'girl' is not without flaws, but I'll take those flaws if the lead to incidents like this. Now, if only she could also nurse him...

All at Once

Baby Z didn't roll over by his 6 month check up. I was worried.

"Oh, his muscle tone is great, so no need to worry," explained the doctor."

"Enjoy this immobility because once they start moving, they never stop," he added.

Baby Z started rolling over just recently, while we were praying. Weirdly enough, it seems that he only does it when we were in sujud, so that by the time we got up, he was on his tummy. Everytime after we gave salam, the kids would shout,

"He rolled over! He rolled over!"

Today, he mastered yet another feat; sitting unsupported. For quite some time, he sat quietly, and fingered the book the kids had checked out of the library for him, cheeks drooping, baby drool dangling, and bottom lip jowling.

H had taught himself to climb down the stairs backwards even before he started walking. I wonder what Baby Z will do now that he has apparently begun to embark on the mobility journey.

Siblings Dynamics

I woke up yesterday feeling nervous about attending this event. Let's face it, I'm an introvert, and if it were totally up to my whims, I would be cooped up at home or not talking to anyone outside the house at all. But as it is, I do force myself to socialize for the sake of sisterhood, and for normalcy.

Left the baby at home with hubby, and drove to the library with the rest of the kids. It was the first time I drove at night with the new van too. Alhamdulillah the lights turn on automtically, I still remember fumbling for the light switch with the old van. It had been a while since I had driven at night, and I spent a good 15 minutes panicking that I would drive home with no headlights on. I think I did? I don't remember, but oh boy, do I hate going out by myself, especially at night! Last night, I was reassured that I was not alone since the kids were with me. It's funny how I already depend on them, when it should be me they would be depending on.

"Kids! I can't open the door! I can' find it. How do I open it?" I wailed in the dark, after killing the engine. (Ok, I'm really revealing my foolishness here, so please don't laugh)

I fumbled. Panic set in. (Did I tell you that I panic easily?) I fumbled again, all the while thinking,

I'm so dumb. How can I not know how to open the door?! It's so simple! Where's my brain?! Knock knock! Oh god! How am I gonna get out of the van?!

I seriously forgot how to open the door, and I kept pawing at the door handle and thinking,

How could it not be there? How could the thingy (whatever it's called) not be there?!

The kids didn't laugh at me, bless them! As they themselves got themselves out of the van, H scrambled to come and help me. They didn't laugh at their fumbling mother! Oh Jazahum Allah Khair.

I laughed at myself though, after he panic eased off.

"Oh, I found it!" I announced, laughing. (I don't know why I'm publishing this on blog, but I'm just elated I survived last night)

"Lock it, Ummi!" H reminded me.

Like a kid, I obeyed him.

"You know how to lock it, right? Press once," he said.

Mashaallah, the boy is really growing up. He'll be my bodyguard sooner than expected, I think.

I nodded.

On the bright side, all that panicking distracted me from my nervousness of sitting in a room full of other people. (I had done this before, come on! I even read out my heart's content to a group of people I don't know in a writing group, but, still, it just still feels...strange)

The session lasted for about one and a half hours. It was pretty helpful. I talked about the kids, how two of them quarrels, and the other one just wants to be left alone. She offered me suggesteions, but mostly it's about getting the kids to learn how to resolve conflict. Nothing I hadn't read about before, but still, it was refreshing to hear it firsthand, and most importantly, to be able to ask firsthand.

When we were done, I got to talking with a fellow attendee. The group moderator went out of the room, came back in and said to me.

"Are those three well behaved children yours?"

"Yeah, well now they're well behaved," I replied.

"It was so easy to tell. The older one and the younger one are playing with the trains and the middle one is on the computer by herself. So easy to tell which was which. You should go see. It's really funny," she said, nodding emphatically.

Wow, I had really painted the exact picture of my three kids when I described them to her in the session.

She did say in the session,

"The gift that they have, having this conflict is that they get to learn how to resolve it. If only more people are taught conflict resolution since they were young, we probably wouldn't have all these wars today. One less gun in the world is improvement to me."

She had pointed out that one reason why my kids are fighting is because they're together all the time since they're homeschooled. She also said that kids will always fight anyway. Knowing myself, I know I tend to go overboard when I describe the negative. The perfectionist in me filters out the positive and I may paint a slightly worse picture than the reality, and I guess I do realize that, which makes it consoling to know that my kids are not all that bad. It's probably because I'm with them all the time. People are always saying how well behaved they are, and I keep thinking,

Really?

but then I think back, and I say to myself,

Give them some credit. They are good kids. Alhamdulillah.

Recently, we went to Dr Mamdouh's talk on the Quran. A sister came up to me and said,

"You always bring your children to these events!"

"Well, who would I leave them with?" I responded with a chuckle.

"And mashaallah, their good mannerism is really something," she continued.

Alhamdulillah. I guess I do need to give my kids some credit. Don't get me wrong, I do commend them in their face, but of course when problems occur, I go into the 'oh how am I going to correct these kids' mode. But as Mrs. M reminded us last night,

"Nothing lasts forever. This will pass."

She's right. Nothing lasts forever. So I guess I should treasure the good moments and save the bad moments for laughing at in years to come inshaallah. Meanwhile, they will just need to accept the fact that they have a mother who may need their help trying to figure out how to open the van door once in a while.

Big Sister Babysitter

Second weekend of Code of Scholars. Again, I struggle with the feat of attending the class via webcam. Yesterday we decided very last minute that I will attend it physically. I made a compromise with S.

They can run during the breaks while I take care of Baby Z. N and H are to help her. It was only 3 hours anyway, so we went for it.

I fed Baby Z before class started. Then I handed him to S. I went in the class.

At break time, I dashed out to check on them.

"A man gave Z pop tarts," they reported to me.

My heart made a double leap.

"Man, what man? Muslim man?"

"Did Z eat it?"

"What happened?"

Turned out that a 'teenage boy' offered them Pop Tarts, and one by one they refused, and then the boy proceeded to feed it to Baby Z. Twice S had pushed it away from Baby Z's mouth. The second time, Baby Z cried, apparently because he was about to lick it I guess.

All this while I am trying so hard to watch what Baby Z eats to see if he is allergic to anything. I was incredulous and furious. The issue of Pop Tarts being questionable in terms of its halalness also popped up.

I stood there in silence, contemplating ditching the class and sitting out there with them. However, I had come, and I should optimize it to attend the class physically. I commended S for being brave enough to push the Pop Tart away from Baby Z.

A while later, she showed me the boy who had offered Baby Z the Pop Tart. I debated whether to reprimand him or not. I chose not to, hoping that he won't do it again. He was holding a binder, so hopefully he would go to class after the break. I did follow him to the babysitting room, though, and when I asked who was in charge, they showed me a teenage girl. I went out of the room.

I told S to come to me in class if they have trouble with anymore people shoving food in Baby Z's mouth. Before I went in, I also told her not to let anyone pick Baby Z up. I still don't know what triggers his hives and eczema flare ups. It might be incense or perfume, and I know the sisters have those on.

"Only K, the Shs, R, Rq, and Fd. No one else," I told them. I had restricted it to only a few people who are allowed to pick up Baby Z.

"Just tell them your mom doesn't allow it," I added.

S has some trouble being assertive. She nodded.

When I came out of class she told me that a woman wanted to pick Baby Z up.

"I told her that my mom doesn't allow anyone to pick him up," she said.

Hubby said that we should buy her something, for babysitting Baby Z. We stopped at 7 Eleven.

"Mashaallah S, you protected your lil brother today," I commended her at home. She smiled her shy smile.

I really hate it when people try to feed your baby without even asking you. When I told hubby, he was shocked. Well, alhamdulillah Baby Z didn't get any Pop Tart in him. I've stopped even with the rice porridge, to see if his hives would come back. So far, his eczema is still the same, (worse) but he's free of hives.

Lucky you!

"AM told the other kids that I only have one ayah to memorize, and they said to me that I was lucky," said H.

"Then AM said, 'No,' and smiled, and said the ayah, and then they said, 'Ok maybe you're not so lucky," he continued.

The ayah is verse 31, surah al muddathir, which S is now helping him memorize because she already memorized the surah.


31: Muhsin Khan: And We have set none but angels as guardians of the Fire, and We have fixed their number (19) only as a trial for the disbelievers, in order that the people of the Scripture (Jews and Christians) may arrive at a certainty [that this Quran is the truth as it agrees with their Books i.e. their number (19) is written in the Taurat (Torah) and the Injeel (Gospel)] and the believers may increase in Faith (as this Quran is the truth) and that no doubts may be left for the people of the Scripture and the believers, and that those in whose hearts is a disease (of hypocrisy) and the disbelievers may say: "What Allah intends by this (curious) example ?" Thus Allah leads astray whom He wills and guides whom He wills. And none can know the hosts of your Lord but He. And this (Hell) is nothing else than a (warning) reminder to mankind.


"R took three weeks to memorize it," said H.

Before this, H came home and told me,

"AM said I memorize good and he didn't give me anything to memorize today."

And now, I'm thinking to myself, "Yeah, I know why. He's saving that break for this long one."

"Done!" H shouted with triumph.

"Ar-Rahman is easier than this one!" he said.

"Huh? No! This is easier," said S.

"No, Ar-Rahman is easier," insisted H.

Siblings Without Rivalry

I should have done this when the kids were smaller; read while nursing. I found it hard to do before, but this time around, I decided to try it, and it's not as hard as I thought it was. I finished this book in several sittings yesterday. So before I return it to the library, I thought I'd jot down some notes for my own record.

One thing I'm growing to love about Adele Faber & Elaine Mazlish's books is the style of writing, and the illustrations provided. My constant complaint about most parenting books or literature is lack of specific dialogue examples, so this inclusion of true-to-life dialogues is a lot of help. So here goes:

When siblings complain about each other:

Acknowledge those feelings instead of dismissing them.

"H is so annoying!" is one of the common complaints I would hear out of S.

The easy and quick way to answer this, especially if you're a mother in a hurry is,

"Just ignore him."

Or to a complaint

"H is not helping!"

"Tell him to help."

Often times I tend to give quick answers because I'm always too exhausted to rectify the situation other than telling the other sibling to stop doing what s/he's doing or start doing what s/he's not doing.

Problem: I, as a parent intervene and they would drag me in their disputes everytime from then on.

Solution: Put the feelings into words.

To "H is annoying!" I should answer,
"You don't like it when he talks and talks especially when you're trying to read."

To "H is not helping!" I should answer,
"You feel like you're doing an unfair share of the work because you feel H is not helping out as much."

If I'm lucky, I'll get more conversation as a response to my replies, and this can give insight to any underlying emotional discords between them that I'm not aware of.

As an adult, I am too familiar with the feeling of being dismissed when I express my feelings to a friend. It in fact makes me feel more defensive and angry, and creates a further turmoil of emotions. However, when your feelings are reflected back to you, and acknowledged, you feel a sense of relief at being understood. Sometimes, a complaint is not meant to fish for a solution, but is just a need for a pair of ears. In some cases, a child might even come up with his/her own solution at the end of that conversation. All you, as a parent have to do, is listen and not criticize or find faults. Sometimes, when you answer with a defense for the other sibling, it might even create more ill feelings in the complaining sibling and might make problems between them worse.

If only...

"I hate H!"

"Don't say that."

Give children in fantasy what they don't have in reality by expressing what the child might wish.

So to the complaint above,

"You wish sometimes H would go away."

As much as the word 'hate' can rile and disturb a parent, it is important to acknowledge the feeling, and as Muslims train them to watch what they say (but this would come with age).

"N finished the last cookie!"

"You wish she'd ask you first before she ate it," would be the appropriate response, rather than maybe,

"There'll be more next time, Inshaallah."


Draw it!

Help children channel their hostile feelings into symbolic or creative outlets by encouraging creative expression.

I did try this technique with them once before, but in reverse.

I think it was S and H who were fighting. They were about to hit each other, or maybe they already did, I can barely remember, but I told both of them to write on paper 5 nice things about each other. Of course the immediate reaction on H's part was a refusal. I somehow coaxed him to and he managed to do it with a grudge. What I should have done was let them write how they feel.

Another way would be to have them pummel a pillow instead of each other. For younger children, it might help to have them draw or scribble how they feel especially since they cannot express their feelings verbally due to restrictions in language abilities.


Jump in...

Stop hurtful behavior. Show how angry feelings can be discharged safely. Refrain from attacking the attacker.

This is a helpful one, especially the last sentence above. Reprimanding the attacker would only exarcebate feelings of resentment in that particular sibling. What should be reprimanded is the behavior.

So let's say S hit H. I should say,

"No hitting. Tell H what you're so mad about."

"You're a liar!"

"Hmm, that's a serious accusation. Tell her how you feel and what you'd like her to do."

All in all, these techniques help children express their feelings in words, that would hopefully build some problem solving in relationships. I can already see that these skills would be very helpful in a marriage.