My Little Helper - well maybe not so little anymore

S appears athletic like hubby but she doesn't have the propensity to plunge into the world of sports other than running for fun with N and H. It rather surprised me that she takes after me a lot. I would have thought that with her build, she would have been into outdoor activities, but as she is growing, she is becoming more domestic.

She is currently taking a sewing class. One day I caught her saying to herself again and again,

"I love my sewing class."

It was supposed to be my job to teach them but with my countless ambitions, I only carried it out halfway. Fortunately, we came across these free classes at our local recreation center, also catered for homeschooled children.

When I was in my baking mood (which has dwindled a lot over the years and become very sparse in occurence) the kids would flock over to me in the kitchen. I used to shoo them away but my mother told me that is not such a great idea, because that was how one member of our family developed an inability to thrive in the kitchen. So I took them under my wings and S seems to have a profound interest in it.

We took my mother's bread pudding recipe and I told S to write it down on her own recipe card. This was probably early this year, but she made it herself while I snapped and filmed them. She even managed to put it in the oven herself, under my supervision.

Since it's fall, and since I have a crazy love for bulbs, we grabbed a box of daffodil bulbs when we went to Aldi. I had the kids plant them, but of course, S was the master gardener. I won't be surprised if she becomes the master seamstress soon.

"I want to take the sewing class too!" said H.

"Oh, why?" I asked.

"Because I want to be like Muhammad SAW," he replied.

All as a result of my handiwork telling them that the prophet mended his own clothes.

Well, we'll see. As of now, I just realized that this pregnancy is smack dab in the throes of the school year. Nine months of schooling, that's the nine months I'm occupying with the pregnancy. S is going to have her reading, writing and math tests on my due date. I hope my mother will be able to come. Hubby will be running around for sure, as he already is now.

A little taller and I would have taught S how to cook simple stuff. Right now, her face is just a little above the stove level; pretty dangerous. For now, she can whip up that mean bread pudding, white rice in the rice cooker, cookies and muffins following kid-friendly recipes, and pancakes and pizza with hubby.

I can't wait for spring! I hope the daffodils will sprout up just as nicely as our hyacinths did this year. If all goes well, I will finally have my dream of having a 'spring baby' come true.

Insyaallah...

Aspiring to be...

Last week, on Seats of Scholars, Muhammad Alshareef talked about Imam Ahmad Hanbal in Under the Shade of Scrolls. The week before he talked about Imam Shafie and the week before we covered the lecture on both Imam Abu Hanifah and Imam Malik.

One recurring theme in the lives of the four imams : their mothers' dedication towards their Islamic education.

Imam Malik, was scolded to the point of crying by his father when he wasn't able to answer the question his father asked.

"You were playing with the birds too much!" was his father's reprimand, for Imam Malik used to play with birds, and maybe now we can liken that obsession with the obsession over the latest video game.

Imam Malik went crying to his mother, and as a result, the very next day, his mother took him to Masjid An Nabawi to seek a really good teacher to teach him.

Imam Shafie, was poor and had to be represented by someone from his town. His power of memorization proved his worth. Not being able to afford any writing materials, he memorized everything that was taught. Look at us now and our laptops, fancy notebooks and such, and we're still not able to retain what we learned.

Imam Abu Hanifah's dad once reprimanded him for taking out Hammad Ibn Abi Sulayman's garbage. After Hammad's death, all the people gathered in front of his house, and only then did Imam Abu Hanifah's father realize the virtue of Hammad Ibn Abi Sulayman and the wisdom of his son in serving this great teacher in order to learn as much from him as possible.

Imam Ahmad was also poor but the thing that touched me the most about his story was his relationship with his son, Abdullah. As Muhammad Alshareef put it, when fathers today would ask his son to play some ball, Imam Ahmad would ask Abdullah to play 'hadith ball'. Father would ask son to recite ahadeeth without the isnad and father would then say the whole list of isnad. There was also the scene where a man cursed Imam Ahmad in front of little Abdullah. All strings of expletives came out and what did Imam Ahmad do? He took Abdullah's hand and led him out of the masjid in silence.

Imam Ahmad was the only one who maintained that one has to make wudhu' after eating camel meat. Just like the people of today, the people of that time then asked him,

"If someone eats camel meat and then makes salat without making wudhu', would you pray behind him?"

This issue of praying behind someone who is not from your mazhab is also prevalent today. What did Imam Ahmad answer?

"Would I not pray behind Imam Shafie? Would I not pray behind Imam Malik? Would I not pray behind Imam Abu Hanifah?"

What a beautiful answer. These Imams were students of one another. The issues were issues of ijitihad and when there is issue of ijtihad, you cannot say that another person is wrong.

As I reflected on the eight year old boy reciting Yaseen (previous entry), and what his parents have gone through to find him that kind of education, I slumped in despair, thinking I would never find anyone to teach my children. We want our children to grow up to be good Muslims, but we should always aim for the stars. It's definitely a different path but it's a worthwhile path indeed insyaallah.

May Allah lead us to people who will guide us and bring us to greater heights of iman. Ameen.

Right now, we have one source of shaytannic activities that still needs to be thrown out. May Allah guide us all. Ameen.

Oh Allah, give me patience and wisdom and let not my tongue speak out in harshness in response to the rising hatred I feel in my heart for that object and what it brings into the household. In my twenties, I would have spoken out impromptu, but I have realized that it's not always necessarily productive. In fact, it can be very counter productive, so let me just nurse my aching heart while building up the hikmah to carry out the conveyance of this important message I have always intended to deliver in the most gentle and non-provoking way.

I do not want another child brought up in its presence. In reaching for the stars, we need as natural an environment as we can get.

A child reciting the Quran in a very beautiful voice

Masyaallah! May Allah grant us patience, wisdom, and knowledge to raise righteous children. Ameen. This makes me want to find a teacher for the kids ASAP.

Blessed

I feel blessed. I feel loved. This time on my back, on my knees, over the toilet bowl, staring at the ceiling in the dark while trying to quell the rising digested food up my throat has left me with more than enough time to ponder on what I have before me.

It has been ten years since I stepped into the world of the twenties. My eldest is almost 10 years old. My mother is constantly reminding me that I'm still young and energetic even though I feel worn and tatttered. Maybe that's why she keeps reminding me.

I still cannot believe my eyes when I look at the three growing beings in my house, squabbling, chatting, laughing, screaming and sleeping. I look at myself in the mirror and I see someone who has been transformed, in so many ways. I have had many personal issues with myself, and I have come to realize that Allah has bestowed on me a number of tests that have indirectly or maybe directly forced me to deal with those issues.

As I browsed through hubby's blog, I came across a post where he had listed all of our birthdates according to the Islamic calendar. I didn't even remember that I was born in Ramadan even though my mother did tell me once. I immediately thought of the blessings of that month, and I wondered if my coming into the world was blessed as well. I could have turned out very different and I still could, but nauzubillah.

Having children at a young age, I was forced to change my lifestyle, and it was a very harried life experience, though if given the choice, I would have done it all over again with some minor changes. I was forced to 'grow up' and find my inner strength within, which I never knew existed. It is true that when Allah tests you, it is within your capacity to handle it, because Allah will never burden a soul beyond what it can bear. Those tests bring out the strength in you, strength you never know you had. Subhanallah.

I have to say I missed the typical 'youth' especially here in the US, but I gained a different life experience which I now realize play a lot into my decisions and outlook. For about 7-8 years I battled with my identity, stuck in that "what do I want to be when I grow up' journey. I finally found myself alhamdulillah. I have matured but I have to say I had a delayed growth.

I have entered a new stage in my life as my children matures. They define my life ever since they were born. Not to say I don't have my own identity, but a mother I will always be. I can be soemthing else, but I will never cease being a mother. The more reason to pitch most of my energy into it as it is my investment for the hereafter.

I realize that as we move on to a new stage in our lives especially as we move into a new circle of people, I will be facing new challenges. I'm not that eager to move on, but I don't want to be complacent either. I do want to move on, but on the right track.

I feel blessed and I feel loved. Alhamdulillah. I don't know if I have earned Allah's blessings but Allah is so full or mercy that when we don't deserve it we get it anyway. I need to make a will. Both hubby and I need to make our wills. This earth should be our prison, not our paradise. Life is a toil, humans were created in toil. I can't wait to go 'home', but I don't know if I've prepared enough. I don't think I have and it scares me to death (no pun intended).

May Allah always keep us focused on what's truly important in our lives (plural for double meaning). Ameen.

I'm so afraid of being beguiled by the temptations of this world. It's not easy.

May Allah give us friends who will always remind and guide us to the right path. Ameen.

I love all my sisters and brothers for the sake of Allah, some more than others, depending on what truly matters to Allah.

May Allah purify our hearts and keep us from bickering about petty things.

May Allah give us sincerity and sisterly love to sustain the ummah and bring it to new heights.

May Allah forgive our sins and help our suffering brethens everywhere.

May we all meet in Jannah.

"When you worship Allah, you have to have this three things: hope, love and fear. When you do something, you fear Allah's punishment, but we also hope for His forgiveness and reward. But you don't do something just because you fear Allah, you do it because you want to please Allah because you love Him. These are the three pillars of Ibadah. You have to have all of them, not just one or two. There are people who just hope, and they keep on doing bad things while hoping Allah to forgive them and grant them Jannah. There are people who just fear and they end up saying no to everything. There are people who just love and they say it's all about love. So it's all three together that we need to worship Allah," I explained to H and N, an impromptu tauheed lesson, yesterday.

They nodded.

May we always be showered with His guidance. Ameen.

Crammed & catching up

Money Matters:

Me: "How are you going to help me with the baby?"

H: "Play with it?"

H: "Oh, I know! I'm going to use my money to buy it stuff! You know if it costs $199, I think all those 20s should be enough!"

And there I was thinking of some help with diapers.


Crackin' jokes:

Hubby: "That's totally upside down."

H: "That's why it's called Total!"

Hubby pretends to scratch side of trunk with chair so he could laugh.

Audience please laugh at H's joke.


Hope & fear:

Me: "Do you want to go see the ultrasound like last time?"

S: "Yeah."

Me: "What if the thing last time happens again? Would that be ok?"

S: "No." (sounded very subdued and quiet)

N: "We shouldn't be too excited."

Me: "Insyaallah it won't, but if it happens, it happens, ok?"

New glasses:

S: "Everything looks so clear. Before, everything looks blurry, and I thought it was like that, but now I can see Abi teaching H clearly."

Poor girl.


On the outside:

N: "You look ugly."

S:"Ummi, N said something."

Me worry. Need to talk to N.

Another time in the store.

S:"Ummi, N just stuck her tongue out at me."

Me Really Worry. She sounds like one of those mean girls.

Me: "N, do you only like people who are pretty?"

N nodded.

Me: "That's not nice. Remember Musaylamah Al Kazzhaab? He was handsome but look what he did. Julaybib, he was a small man, no one liked to be with him but where is he now? He died shaheed and he's probably now in one of those green birds next to Allah's throne."


Unsympathetic:

Me: "Kids, I feel like I need to throw up!"

Kids: "Go!"

Hijab:

Me:"If someone tells you to take off your hijab, what would you do?"

S:"No way!"

Me:"Why?"

S:"Because I'm not going to take it off! I'll just say I'll go to another store, thank you."

Me:"Ok, but what if it's something more serious than that?"

S: "I'm not going to take it off."

Me:"Here, in this country, you have a right to practice your religion, so they don't have any right telling yo to take it off, ok. It's like if you tell them to take off their shorts and panties. Do you think they would do that? I don't think so, so just know that."

H: "Ummi said something funny! She said to S if she would take off her hijab and then and then she said we ask the person to take her panties off. Hahahahaha!"

Ok, maybe I was too direct. Oops!


I felt the need to record these and even then I feel like I have left out a lot more. My mind cannot keep everything in it and since these are precious moments, I just have to jot them down.

H is flourishing in his soccer endeavor.
H is also flourishing in his basketball endeavor.
S is enjoying her sewing class.
S is enjoying her math class every Thursday.
S & N are enjoying their Arabic clas every Tuesday.
S has glasses, got them yesterday.
They're correcting my Surah Yusuf while I'm inching so slowly ahead.
H is doing his Al Mutaffifeen.
N is picking up here and there.
S is developing her own personality, and is growing.
I'm both awed and scared.
She's going to turn 10 insyaallah.
Her five prayers are now complete.
I'm hanging on.

Ramadan Mubarak!

Second day.

Saturday, H played a very good soccer game. However, we let him break his fast soon after since he was running up and down the field in both quarters that he played.

I suffered the first day, but mostly the suffering occurred post Iftar. Today, I didn't fast. Tomorrow, I'm going to try again insyaallah.

The kids, all fasted today, albeit with some,

"How many more minutes?"

Yesterday, I was the one asking N to ask hubby,

"How many more minutes?"

Today, H asked me at 1:22 pm, "How many more minutes?"

"Seven hours," I said.

At 3 pm he asked again.

He and S napped and at around 6:30 pm he played soccer with hubby. They all survived the day alhamdulillah.

I was so tired and incapacitated that I didn't do what we usually do every Ramadan : Ramadan chain, giant crossword puzzle and fasting chart. I asked hubby to do the chain for me. We have yet to put it up at the top of the stairs. We have yet to print the charts too. I need to make them again. I feel bad for the kids. This Ramadan, I abandoned them because I myself am too sick. Last year, S fasted a full Ramadan. N fasted all but a few days because she was sick and H fasted 10 full days. This year, the days are longer than last year. I wonder how they will fare. The hours this years are the same with the hours of fasting in Malaysia, though, so it should be good training for when we go back home insyaallah.

Hubby was eating white rice, Somali beef, A's salad and eggplant sauce. I sat next to him, and asked for a few finger scoops.

"Only beef and rice," I said.

After while I realized that my food inclination is more towards the simple ones.

"Wow, this baby is only going for simple food. White rice, bread, boiled eggs," I said.

"A soldier insyaallah," said hubby.

"Yeah, Abdullah Ibn Zubair, insyaallah," I said, more to myself than a reply to him.

I never thought of that. Subhanallah! I do want a son like Abdullah Ibn Zubair. He was all over History of the Khulafa, and he was the one I kept telling the kids about.

As N passed by, I noticed her right pocket bulging.

"What is that?" I asked as I grabbed her pocket.

Candies. I felt candies. She escaped my grip and ran into the kitchen.

Hubby smiled. I giggled.

"N, did you break your fast before you broke your fast?" I asked.

"No!"

After some feet stomping in the kitchen, S came to N's aid and said,

"She just put them in her pockets, but she didn't eat them."

I remembered a piece of candy next to H on the couch, when I was waking him up for Asr.

"Did you eat it?" I asked him.

"N put it there," he replied.

Apparently, N, with her generous spirit, had taken some candy that was supposed to be my 'cure' from nausea, stuffed her pocket, and gave some to H. She meant to eat them after Iftar.

"Ummi, you're gonna be fat," she said as she looked at the candies.

I tried sucking on the candy, but I've come to the conclusion that whatever I take that is supposed to alleviate the nausea, only masks it. If it's coming, it's coming, baby!

This is only the second day. This Ramadan, I'm struggling to fast more than the kids. It's not a good feeling, because I feel like hubby has to bear everything. May this not be my last Ramadan, for I miss encouraging the kids and making Ramadan a big deal for them. But if it is, may my children grow up to be righteous insyaallah. Ameen.

Dum Dum Pops

"Ummi, you coming outside?"

"We'll see," I replied.

H had his soccer practice on Wednesday. I was nauseous as usual but somehow the fresh air outside made me feel better, though the fact that I still threw up when we got home probably sent that theory down the drain.

Nevertheless, I went outside.

"Yay!" S was exhilirated that I actually stepped outside to witness the neighborhood soccer game.

"I'll get you a chair!"

She actually did and I sat there like an invalid, watching H and hubby playing with the neighborhood boys. The only thing differentiating me and them was the Muslim attire. Otherwise, people might have thought BV was pure mini China.

"Ummi, can we eat this?" H came and gave me a lollipop that one of the Chinese boys had given him.

I groaned inside. I was in no mood to check the ingredients, but I managed to delay it till today.

"H, can you get me some dates? Hurry, I feel like throwing up!" I said.

"Can I eat he lollipop?" he asked.

"No, not yet."

"If you check the lollipop, I'll get you the dates," he said.

At any other time, I would have reacted differently, but it did seem unfair that I kept stalling checking the ingredients for reasons of laziness, so I told him to bring it upstairs.

The wrapping was all twisted, and I was about to give it up, but I spied the website.

"Ok, it's dumdumpops.com," I said, and typed in the URL.

I went through the FAQ but didn't find any listed ingredients, so I emailed them my question.

"Can we eat it now?" H asked.

"No, we have to wait for them to answer."

I realized that H can be very persistent. He wouldn't take an unexplained no for an answer. (translate that into more work for me)

A while later I received an email.

"Kids! Come here! It's dum dum!"

(Why don't they come up with better names??)

I let them all read the reply:

Dum Dums contain sugar, corn syrup, citric acid, malic acid, salt, artificial flavor, and artificial color. They are free of gelatin, lard, and alcohol.

If you need additional information please let us know.

Spangler Candy Company

"So we can eat it?"

I nodded.

Dum Dum Pops. Even I played the game on the website. Dum Dum Pops.

PERFECT JUSTICE: Debunking the Male Bias Myth - by Yasir Qadhi

ILMFEST April 22, 2006 Rosemont Convention Center, Chicago, IL EmanRush Audio, the exclusive audio label of AlMaghrib Institute, provides you with high quality lectures to stimulate your mind with reflections of your deen. Perfect Justice: Debunking the Male Bias Myth by Shaykh Yasir Qadhi discusses the common bias existing in today's society concerning women in Islam.

Whole Milk

For breakfast, my daughters heated up the fried fish and hot sauce my Somali sisters had made for me yesterday. Then N brought me a cup of milk, whole milk, to be precise. I asked for another. She bounded downstairs and came back with another cup.

Apparently hubby had told them to 'help me'.

At lunch time, I explained to them the situation.

"I need your help. The baby needs your help."

N vaccummed the living room, even though I insisted she didn't have to do so right there and then. Afterwards she brought me another cup of whole milk. I was reminded of their mantra, "So the baby will be chubby like N."

At dinner time, while we were preparing the food, N took out the half gallon milk bottle and poured a cup of whole milk. She gave it to me. I thanked her. I downed it. She gave me another one and said,

"So the baby'll be white."

I said to hubby, "N's feeding the baby. She's on a mission."

May her hopes not be dashed, again. Ameen.

"You look ugly."

"N's crying!" H yelled from the room.

"She's crying because you but your hair," said S.

I was sitting in front of the mirrow while my nine-year-old snipped my hair. She's taller than my ear. She's going to get glasses, and I trust her to actually cut my hair. I think I was in a 'I don't care' mood.

"She's crying because of my hair?" I asked.

People cry over spilled milk. My daughter cries over locks of hair lying helplessly on layers of old newspaper. My hair.

"You look ugly," she uttered earlier.

"I do? That's ok. It'll grow back," I said.

I never expected her to shed tears over it. Hubby lifted her and she scratched at him, head hanging.

"It's not that bad, N," said hubby.

She continued clawing at him. I continued cropping my hair, not really believing she was crying over how ugly I looked. No one could be that sensitive, could they?

"Ummi, you look Chinese," said H.

"Hi Chinese!" he exclaimed.

"You Chinese boy," said hubby.

"Is N still crying? Why is she crying?" I asked H and S.

"She's crying over her suwwa!" said H.

"No, she's crying because of Ummi's hair," protested S.

"You don't know. You're not close to her," she snapped at H, who was hanging upside down from the bunk bed.

I was sure I mouthed a silent 'wow' inside.

"Why you crying, N?" I asked her. Her blanket was wet. She had apparently been using it to wipe her tears. That much tears over my hair? Unbelievable! I tried to console her but she wouldn't respond, let alone look at me. I left.

"Ummi, I need tissue," said S.

"She's still crying?" I whispered to S.

"No, she's just sniffing."

I looked in the mirror. I never liked short hair, but I never thought someone else would feel so strongly about it.

This Time

"You mean you were right all this time?" asked N, eyes wide and questioning.

"About what?" I asked her.

"About the baby," she said.

I chuckled.

I wasn't going to make the same mistake I did as last time. I didn't tell them about the new life inside of me, at least not explicitly.

"Oh so that's why you've been asking us 'Do you think we're gonna have a baby?" S interrogated me.

"I want to name it Zayd," said H.

Last time, I got their hopes up and all of a sudden, their hopes were dashed, as dashed as can be. This time, I didn't announce my pregnancy, but I merely hinted at it. If they picked up on it, they surely didn't show it.

I bled. I worried. I expected the worst. I called the good doc. She told me to come in. We all went. The good doc was out for a delivery. I was told to come back at 3:40pm. We went home. Two sisters were sitting in the car waiting for us. They had brought us some food. They were able to stay with the kids while I go to the good doc at 3:40pm.

"You got rid of the kids, huh?" the nurse commented, as she showed hubby and I inside the exam room.

It was an agonizing wait. I hate vaginal ultrasounds or anything vaginal.

"Where is this doctor?" I kept asking myself.

Breathing in and out repeatedly to calm myself down, we waited for her to come in.

"Ok, tell me about yuor bleeding," she began. I rambled on, complete with dates and vivid descriptions.

"She turned the ultrasound machine on. I waited with bated breath. I truly expected the worst.

A bean-like shape came into view. It was black. I looked on. The good doc was quiet. The moment passed by quickly.

"There's the baby. See its heartbeat?" she said.

I saw it alright. A white life form within the dark bean-shaped cavity. A beating heart.

"It's alive?" I asked, realizing only too late that my question was somewhat rather strange.

I felt the good doc's head turn to me slightly, but I kept my eyes on the screen. She uttered a confirmed "Uh uh."

"There's the yolk sac, not another baby," she continued.

At that point I was too overjoyed to know the baby's alive despite my bleeding that I wasn't even thinking about multiples.

She told me she was still worried about my bleeding, and that it was a threatened miscarriage.

"No vacuuming, no exercise, no lifting heavy things. Just pamper yourself for two weeks and then come and see me again."

Easy enough, insyaallah. The kids are reliable. Hubby is too.

The beating heart. Hope. My spirits soared. ALHAMDULILLAH.

"You should drink whole milk so the baby will be chubby like N," said one of the kids when we were talking about a possible baby.

I just dunked two cups of whole milk. Whatever Allah gives us, we accept. Be it another miscarriage or a righteous child, insyaallah. Either way, it's all good, bi iznillah. A Muslim's affair is always good. Subhanallah!

Chinese Eyes

"I know why I have the smallest eyes," said H, as he put two finger circles over his eyes like a pair of glasses.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I was born last."

We had been watching our home video of them when H was a toddler, N a chubby 2 year old, and S a smart-alecky 4 year old. The one thing we kept nociting was how big their eyes were, especially N's. H's seemed bigger back then. Now, he looks slightly Chinese except for his skin tone.

They're also a whole lot skinnier now. Almost everyone was shocked to see how chubby they were. It defeated Sg's theory, which she had shared with S.

"Your mom can't have chubby babies because of genes. Your mom is thin and your dad is thin," was what S relayed to me.

I chuckled. My mother is skinny but she had chubby babies. As chubby as you can imagine. Alhamdulillah the fat weren't there to stay.

"Do you guys want a baby?" I asked the kids.

"Yeah, I want a chubby one," said S.

I chuckled again.

"Then make dua this one's ok, Insyaallah," I said, as I tried to quell the nausea that has been plaguing me for weeks now.

Every Every

S and N started going to a sister's house for Arabic lessons. However, the sister refused to teach H because she said he didn't listen to her before.

So I was stuck with H while the other two learned Arabic. Starting Sep 21, I'm going to have to send S to Grove City (12 miles away) for the STEP program where teachers will take over Writing and most of Math from me.

So, Arabic every Tuesday, STEP every Thursday, soccer practice every Wednesday, soccer game every Saturday.

I don't know how I'm going to handle this, with my current condition. May Allah make it easy. Ameen.

The Ravens

"Where is he?"

I circled the parking lot, waiting for hubby. Glancing at the clock, I fidgeted. It's five to six. H's soccer practice starts at 6 and it would take a few minutes to get to the field.

"Is that Abi's bike? Go and see if it's his bike," I told S.

She went, came back and shook her head. Two more circling and we finally saw him on the bike.
By the time we got to the field it was a few minutes past 6.

H went through his second soccer practice. At the end of it, the coach came to us and asked,

"Has he ever played before?"

"No, just with me and the sisters," replied hubby.

I was thinking in my head, "Uh oh, he's gonna say H's not cut out for soccer. Here we go."

"He's talented. For someone who's never played before, he caught on real fast," said the coach.

While hubby churned out his thanks for the kind words, I let the compliment sink in. I have to say I'm no expert on soccer. I only watch it because hubby plays it and now, because H plays it. Otherwise, I would NOT be bothered with it. I suppose, H has a 'Khalid Ibn Walid' side to him, which he most probably got from hubby.

All this while he's been showing his 'Zayd Ibn Thabit' side with immense reading. Alhamdulillah. I also just realized how skinny my son is, and I also just realized that H is taller than N, even though N is older. Apparently, N takes after her mother.

"Do you know you team members' names?" I asked H.

"Yeah."

"The boy who you were passing the ball to, what's his name?"

"Yusuf," said H.

"Yusuf?! Are you sure??" I asked.

"Yeah, he said Yusuf."

Interesting. I'll have to keep my eyes really open this Saturday. Either H had hearing problems last Wednesday, or the boy's name really is Yusuf.

Keepin' Up

Next week looks like this so far:

Monday : Labor Day for everyone else but us which practically translates to a usual school day

Tuesday : S and N's Arabic lessons with a sister at 10:30 am, then halaqa at 12:00pm at the masjid

Wednesday : H's soccer practice at 6 pm

Thursday : Elluminate session for Student Teacher Enrichment Program for S 10:30 - 11:30 am

Friday : Hayl meeting at 7 pm

Saturday : Lowe's Kids Workshop 9 am to noon

Sunday : After Fajr Program


I also just called a sister who just had a baby, and told her I'd visit her next week. Now where am I supposed to sneak that in? (Maybe Monday) After I call the masjid for the Quran memorization program, I'm sure my next challenge will be to keep up with all these happenings in my planner. On top of that, I still have the ambition to write an article on Ramadan for kids for dawah purposes. Well, we'll see if that even materializes. I still owe my daughter two cakes which I now have no time to make. To make it worse I'm still not 'get with the program!' with their homeschooling because the teachers are somewhat lagging behind in responding to me, unlike their old teacher. It's getting on my nerves.

Schedules, schedules, schedules!

H will have soccer games every Saturday beginning Sep 16 for 7 weeks, and practice every Wednesday.

S will have Student Teacher Enrichment Program every week. I don't have the exact details yet.

N will be in a Math Title I program and has an upcoming test Sep 21.

My schedule is still a mess, waiting for these confirmations, and before I know it it will be Ramadan.

This is not including the Quran Memorization program at the masjid, which hubby still hasn't gotten around to asking about yet despite the repeated reminders (looks like women have to do everything themselves these days) and the Arabic lessons.

What a way to begin the school year!

Back to School

Yesterday was OHVA's first day of school but I was mostly not fully functioning since we got back from Chicago around 4 am the same day. I had dreaded this coming school year, and sure enough there was a lot of catching up I had to do yesterday, what with two separate teachers for S and N and H, forms to sign and mail, Parent Handbook to read, things to download and what nots. Unfortunately I still do not have a well laid out plan.

I'm fearful of well laid out plans now because I always end up following them in the beginning of the school year but abandoning them towards the end. This time, I might as well not torture myself and just go with the flow. I have a lot of personality tweaking to do.

H is the monitor today. I still don't have the house as spic and span as I would like it to be, but you have to give something up. Can't have it all, though it truly kills me to give that up. I can't wait to move out of this apartment actually.

Alhamdulillah, S is going to be in a classroom for language arts and math once a week every week. I'll have to call the sister about arabic, send H to the masjid for Quran memorization and since the kids have already Surah Yusuf ingrained in their minds, I might as well plant it in them to the end.

Well, back to work.

ENT

"H, go and eat," I said.

"But my nose and throat hurts when I drink."

"Do you have a sore throat?"

"Well...my nose hurt when I drank and then my throat also hurt."

I made him eat anyway because I wasn't going to contend with ahungry child just before bedtime.

"Ummi, maybe I have allergies!" he suggested.

"Hmmph," I replied.

I left them at the kitchen table, eating away.

H then came bounding still complaining of his nose.

Remembering that I will soon leave them over the weekend while hubby and I go to Chicago for the AlMaghrib class, I asked him,

"When did your nose and throat start hurting?"

"When I drank water."

"Does it feel better now?"

"When I drink water my nose hurt inside, but when I eat junk food my throat feels bettaw."

Hmmph! So much for worrying. I was going to bring him to the pediatrician before we leave so I won't be leaving a potentially sick kid behind.

The Quran

Hubby had gone off to send H to COSI summer camp. I was dripping with sweat from my morning workout. Weary, I chose to sit in front of the computer instead of going upstairs for a shower.

Hubby was using the PC before me, and this was what I stumbled upon when I clicked one of the windows. At first, I didn't know who wrote it. I read from the middle and scrolled downwards, and reversed. Subhanallah! It just reemphasized what Muhammad Ibn Faqih said in Ulum Al Quran in June.

I REALLY REALLY want to share this with all of you. I can't describe how this makes my heart melt, and this is what AlMaghrib calls Emanrush. You feel a surge of eman rushing to your core, and your heart just melts.

For fun

Alhamdulillah H finally completed his At Takweer after much weeping, scolding, coaxing and prodding.

"I like Takweew. Can you write it in my Juz Amma?" he asked.

I had prepared something akin to a homemade certificate for each of them. S's is an apple tree with the apples as surah. N's is a vine of morning glories with each flower as a surah. H's is strings of beads with each bead as a surah. As they memorize each surah, I label each representative of it. S's is almost full. She only has Al Inshiqaaq left insyaallah.

Today, on the way to our front door, H related to me,

"The other boys have to catch up to me."

"Catch up in what?" I asked.

"In suwaa."

"Why?"

"Be..be..because they didn't finish it," he explained.

"You mean you're the only one who finished it?" I asked, incredulously surprised.

He nodded.

"Not even L?" I asked, still in disbelief, because L is thirteen.

Today, before I napped I told them,

"I'm gonna to take a nap. Go do your surah. By the time I wake up, I want to hear how much you've memorized."

S woke me up, already dressed in her prayer garment, ready to pray Asr.

H had done a good job on his An Naaziat, S had also done a good job on her Al Inshiqaaq, and N still needed a lot of work on her An Naaziat. She seems to be lagging behind somehow. H and S seem to be flourishing on individual effort but not N.

"Ummi, why don't we read surah for fun anymore?" H asked me a few minutes ago.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, like, you ask us to read a surah, and we read it and you check us."

"Yeah, we can do that," I said, a little taken aback by his question.

Apparently we have been too busy memorizing new surah to do it for 'fun' anymore.

And as I am writing this, H and S are using each other as a sounding board to review their surahs that they already memorized. And as I am writing this, I keep hearing,

"That's easy!"

"Let's do this suwaa!"

"What suwaa is this?"

"Al Kauthaw! It's so easy! It's just thwee!"

This Thursday is their last day of summer school at the masjid. I feel sad, because H really loves it. He also seems to be making a lot of friends, and also seems to be coming home asking me questions like,

"Why is showing the middle finger rude?"

"My teacher wrote A.S.S. and a boy said it's rude."

"Ummi, a boy said a rude word in school."

Well, it truly has been a 'swell' summer for all of us. I thought I'd be getting a break, but the truth is very far from it. Nevertheless, I've seen the kids blossoming, Alhamdulillah, especially with regards to the Quran. Alhamdulillah!

H's Theories

"Why does N have to have a bicycle anyway? She doesn't even use it!"

H barged in through the front door all riled up. I was sitting with N, while she recited her surah to me. A few minutes before I heard angry muttering outside.

"What happened?" I asked him.

"N's bike attacked mine!"

"What?"

"Her bike attacked my bike, and then my bike attacked S's, and I can't get it out!"

Oh no. I understand perfectly what had happened. It brought me back to the scene where the chair 'scratched' him, and that his insistence that the chair was alive was proven true. Here we go again.

Another time in the same day:

"I think they don't want us to do reciter.org, and that's why it always doesn't work," he said upon coming in the door.

"Who? What?" I asked. This boy always has something to say.

"The non Muslims. They don't want us to get reciter.org because they want us to be non Muslims."

Far fetched? I don't know. What led this six year old to think of that, I wonder. He was playing outside, had left memorizing for quite a number of hours, and suddenly, the first thing he says when he comes in through the door is a conspiracy theory?

Silent Treatment

"N! N!" yelled S from upstairs.

I was in the kitchen slicing the green beans for dinner.

"If you wanna play outside then come and help me clean up!" she continued.

Silence, which is very expected of N.

I continued slicing, anticipating what will happen next.

"N! Didn't you hear me?! I said, if you want to play outside help me clean up!"

No response.

"Deaf, deaf, deaf, deaf, deaf, deaf!" S stomped back up the stairs muttering to herself.

Meanwhile, N played outside, oblivious to her sister's curses upon her.

I couldn't help smiling, but after a while I called S.

"Call N outside, and tell Abi," I said.

It's not right that S has to bear all the burden of being the big sister. N, with her personality, seems to irk everyone such that Hubby suggested we give her silent treatment for three days.

I don't think it would matter to her, but maybe we should give it a shot?

Coming To Chicago

THE KHULAFAA' ARE COMING TO CHICAGO !!!

Date: Aug 18th - 20th, 25th - 27th

Class: History of the Khulafaa'
Instructor: Muhammad Alshareef

Wyndham Hotel
400 Park Boulevard
Itasca, IL 60143

Latest Info
Register

Hard Core Drilling

Remember when I was lamenting on how difficult it is to help my children memorize the Surah? Well, I voiced those lamentations to some sisters here who have experienced memorizing the whole Quran when they were young. One of them then shared something with me:

"You know, when we were in Duqsi (quran memorization school), if we were slow or got something wrong we get hit. You get hit three times and then you have to go back and learn it again."

I have told myself I'm never going to use force (at least not brutally) with my kids. However, drilling needs to be done at some point, only you have to do it with hikmah. I don't want to associate pain and Quran. I don't want to associate harshness with Islam. I don't want to associate brutal force with our deen.

"Why don't your kids pray with you?"

I relayed my method of introducing prayer one at a time so they acquire the skill gradually. The graduality in my opinion has its own benefits and merits, as we learned in Ulum Al Quran with regard to the revelation of the Quran. One way in which the Jews was different from the sahaba was that the sahaba received Islam gradually, so they were able to acquire it piece by piece thus strengthening their iman considerably.

The usual method would be to teach children to pray the five prayers all at once. I battled with that because I don't want my kids to hate praying.

"But I see kids even since they are small, their parents call them to prayer every time."

I mulled over that, and I see the wisdom, but the prophet SAW specifically told us to teach the children to pray when they are seven. So there must be something about being younger than seven that qualifies you to not be forced to pray each time. Though I can also see how this can be done with hikmah. Maybe I'll rectify my method according to this observation. However maybe it's a little too late because my kids are already praying at their own pace insyaallah.

Yesterday I started reading a book I checked out from the library. It talks about personality type of mothers and children, and how there is no one right way to mother your children. It shed some light on the issue, because I personally sometimes feel like I'm doing such a bad job when I see other mothers handle their children in their own unique way.

What I deduced from that is that I may be a Introvert-Intuitive-Feeling-Judging type. Applying the typing to my children, I would say that S is Introvert-Intuitive-Feeling-Judging too. N on the other hand (my biggest challenge so far) is Introvert-Sensing-Feeling-Perceiving, while H is Extrovert-Sensing-Thinking-Judging.

The Judging mother expects perfection, which is very hard to get since we don't even live in a perfect world. The Judging mother can be very hard on herself and may wear herself out to no avail. The Perceing mother on the other hand knows how to have fun, and enjoy life rather than trying to put everything in order. I have known this all along, but although I have tried loosening the grip I have on myself, I'm still a big mess. N is my opposite because she's the Perceiving type. The Perceiving type stops and smells the flowers, while the Judging type whizzes by to arrive at her destination. I have always known this about N, but it still is so hard for me to adjust to her personality type.

While H may chatter away next to me, sparking up any conversation, as long as he's talking about something, N will be very tight-lipped. Her emotions are not that apparent while H's can be heard a mile away, but when she's angry, you will know it because people around her will suffer.

I struggle every day trying to handle these three personalities. Since I don't particularly like my own (some aspects of it), I tend to be quite hard on S when she displays those very quirks that I myself have.

So, when teaching them anything (Islam or not) to achieve the best result, I should be applying these knowledge in my approaches. One way that works with one kid might not work with the other. If you hit a kid when training them to memorize the Quran, he might hate it, while another kid might take it as something that is customary, and not think that negatively about it. A parent can force prayer on a child in a harsh way, and the same two reactions can occur in two different children.

Just recently, I added another prayer for each of them. N chose Fajr, but when we woke her up she resisted. So I gave her another choice. She chose Zuhr. Then S shared with me her insight,

"When I wake up for Fajr, I try not to think of sleeping so I can just get up. I like Fajr, I think it's easy."

Alhamdulillah. So far she has been waking up for Fajr with no complaints.

H, seeing his sisters acquiring prayers one by one, asked for an addition too, thought he's not even formally given a prayer because he hasn't turned seven yet. He's now doing Asr and Maghrib. Yesterday he missed Asr because he was napping and we didn't want to wake him up because he was lacking a lot of sleep from the night before. Furthermore he just started. So it rather surprised me when he asked me at night,

"Did I pray Asr?"

The condition for these assignment of prayers is that once you choose a prayer, you have to commit to it no matter what. No matter what, unless if they have their period, which I hope is not around the corner, yet. They understand that. I suppose H understood that too, and somewhat questioned why he was given a concession.

I'm still baffled over how different these children can be and how incompetent I am as a mother handling all these different personalities. It's a mental battle, and very draining. I'm sure most mothers(or caregivers) with more than one child can relate. When I first had them, I never thought one child can be so different from the other when they both come from the same set of parents. How very wrong I was.

Mother and Father

"We learned about mother being more special than the father."

"But Ummi already told us that," chimed H.

"I told them how I help you," said S.

"I'm confused," said N.

"They told us girls are not supposed to ride bikes because it's a boy thing."

Hmm, I don't know about that. I guess I'll have to check it out but as far as I know...nah. I'll let it go, for now.

"I'm confused why mothers are more special than fathers," said N.

"Well, mothers carry babies inside them. They get sick a lot, then the babies get so heavy that the mothers might not even be able to walk properly. Then when the babies come out their faraj will tear and the doctor will have to sew it back up. Then they will be in pain, give the babies susu, and that can hurt too," I went on and on, while thinking that I might scare them out of having kids of their own, especially the girls.

"But the fathers have sperms," said H.

I was slightly taken aback, but my immediate response was,

"Yeah, and that's about it."

Oops! I didn't expect it but they broke into a fit of giggles, and so did I, after I fully realized the implication of what I said.

"They just have that? No eyes, ears, face," began S, still giggling.

I went to the kitchen to wash my hands, trying to hide the mirth bubbling up inside me.

Oh, if only hubby was there. He'll get an interesting recap of what happened today. That's for sure.

But, boy, was I surprised at H's comment. No wonder MIL is scared of talking too much with him. He can really nail you to utmost embarassment!

Moving Up

"Wow! this is longer than a grocery receipt," said the librarian as the machine spewed out our library check out receipt.

"Which is good," she added.

I smiled and gulped down a handful of embarassment. We're regular and loyal patrons of our local public library. Too loyal such that we would always walk in through the automatic doors wheeling a backpack on wheels, and walk out with the same bag bursting to the seams plus two or three more plastic bags filled with books.


As the kids devour one book after another, I would get,

"Ummi, we need to go to the library! I'm out of books!"

If only I have that much time for reading alone, I'd be living in complete bliss.

Though I'm filled with personal pride at the voracious reading habit of my offsprings, after a while, I'm filled with an equal sense of worry. Christmas, Hanukkah, puppies, 'jokes', are recurrent words my kids will devour as they go through those books we check out from the library. In the end, won't it be the same as watching TV? Reading books to me is the same as watching TV, except for the fact that you acquire vocabulary and possibly some writing and analytical skills.

I turned to find more Islamic-oriented books, but at the rate they are devouring written words, my search was soon exhausted. The nonfiction are not too appealing to them. This only sends writers the message that they need to hone those writing skills so as to pluck out at least a teeny bit of curiosity and enjoyment for children in reading nonfiction.

As of now, we have a shortage of Islamic fiction, and I implore all of you who read this post to sign this petition.

It might be too late for my kids, but that shouldn't stop me from supporting this cause for the benefit of our future generation insyaallah.

On the Side

"You can go out after 7:30, but do your surah now," boomed hubby's voice before he left for his soccer game.

I was bustling in the kitchen, trying to whip something up so we won't go lunchless tomorrow. As usual, everything has to be done pre-tomorrow in our house. I've gotten used to cooking tomorrow's lunch and dinner the day before since we started homeschooling. Where I once bustled through the kitchen after Fajr everyday while hubby gave the toddlers and baby their morning baths, now I bustle in the kitchen after 4 pm almost everyday preparing future meals. I couldn't afford to cook after Fajr anymore, because the slot is filled up with teaching.

They scampered to do their surah while I peeled, chopped, sliced and ruminated at the dining table. H and S went upstairs. N remained downstairs and used the computer for reciter.org. After a while,

"Ok, come recite what you've memorized to me," I said.

S was the first one.

"Is H doing his surah?" I asked her, dreading her answer.

She paused. My heart beat faster. I wasn't too keen on shouting to him from the kitchen for him to do his surah. It was either the muscle of the voice box, or the rest of the muscles in my body. Despite my eagerness to tone up, I wasn't that eager to put my lazy muscles to good use by running up the stairs. I'd rather exercise my voice box muscles.

"Well, he's playing with his car while listening," she answered.

Well, at least he's not reading or totally ignoring our orders, I thought. I let it go. Inside, I sighed with relief at not having to do a larynx workout.

Once S was done, I let her go play outside. H was next. Surah An-Naaziat is his current assignment. He fumbled with the first 5 ayah. I made faces at him. He giggled. I prodded him when he made mistakes. His recitation became garbled with an weepy whine. I ignored him. His recitation returned to normal. Gee, I'm getting good at this. Just ignore his impending cries, and he'll snap back to reality.

With the dryer roaring and the water gushing out of the faucet, I hollered for him to raise his voice. Weird how they can shout in your ears but recite the Quran in such soft voices.

When he was done, I hailed N. She sat on the chair and started reciting her An-Naba. I was frying boneless chicken cubes. Facing spitting hot oil that was threatening to adorn me with pock marks, I strained to listen to her recitation. I hate frying but I was also left with a somewhat dead brain this afternoon. I think forgoing lunch everyday for a week was not such a great idea. I didn't do it on purpose though. I gues my brain was too busy trying to figure things out I didn't even have any appetite. So I opted for the dumb choice. Oh well, alhamdulillah I didn't get any second degree burn or worse on my face. I already have one on my hand.

When I looked at the clock, it was 8:20pm. I ushered her out so she could play before maghrib came in. They played outside. I finished frying the chicken pieces, mopped the oil-splattered floor, and yelled for them to take their shower. Such is the life of a mother. Very honorable, eh.

At any rate, I have it better now than I did a few years back where S was reduced to tears struggling to memorize her surahs. We struggled in pain in the beginning of this summer but Alhamdulillah Allah came to our aid.

Since I have temporarily abandoned my memorization due to my monthly guest, I was subtly reminded today when N softly recited part of Surah Yusuf. As she recited it, I joined in. Pretty soon I was reciting what I memorized. Aghast, I realized that I had forgotten the most recent ayat. Immediately I turned to the computer and played Sa'd Ghamidee's recitation. I secured that one ayah today. Jazakillah khair N, for reminding me.

My Village

You need a village to raise a kid. I echo that sentiment with all my heart. I racked my brains all day yesterday trying to figure out how in the world I am going to handle this coming school year.

When I was picking up S and H from the masjid, I found out about the daily program with the Imam. Everyday after Maghrib he helps the kids memorize new surah, and on Tuesdays dna Wednesdays at 7:30pm, he reviews all the suwaar they have memorized. H is definitely going, and when I asked him his reply was,

"Yes!"

S and N will not though. There is no way those two are ever going to open their mouths on the men's side.

Grasping at straws, I posted my desperate plae for help on our local forum, asking if anyone would be able to help me teach the kids few times a week. My problem is mainly due to the lack of homeschooling families here in town. The few families that do homeschool, have kids in different grades and I have found that it was more of a hassle than beneficial to get together since we live quite some distance from each other too. However, I'm not ready to give up yet. Hence my desperate plea.

Some wonderful sisters have offered their help and I'm now more than overjoyed. Now I just need help with Arabic. May Allah make it easy on us.

By and by I think I'm forming my much needed village, thanks to reminders from some sisters here. I have realized that it's also chemistry that in the end pushes one to pursue this village. I had the offer or suggestion before, but the chemistry wasn't there and my heart wasn't totally in it.

Energy Drain

This week it's N's turn to attend COSI summer camp. Last week I had to pick S up at 12:30, dash off to COSI, drop her off, drive back to the masjid to pick H and N up, head for home, have lunch, steal a few winks, and rush off to pick S up at 4pm. I have never driven that much before. In a way I got to feel what it's like to be a mom of school-going kids. It ain't fun. I hate driving.

This week, I still have to do the incessant driving, but with N. She, as usual, posed an unprecedented challenge.

"It's boring!" she exclaimed, when I asked her if she had fun at the summer camp.

I fretted over it.

"I like the masjid school more than the COSI," she announced.

I figured it must be the bond she has formed with the people at the masjid, her new friends and teachers.

Today, when we trundled over to where she was waiting with the rest of her groups, I saw my second daughter sitting amidst a group of children, and one girl had her arm over N's shoulder. I gestured for her to come over. As she did, the girl rose and exclaimed,

"Assalamualaikum!"

Another girl, apparently a teenager, waved enthusiastically as we drove off.

"Did you have fun?" I asked her.

I saw her smile. She was somewhat reluctant to give a nod but the answer seemed to be a positive one. Obviously she garnered a new Muslim friend. She was certainly happy about that. S had garnered a non Muslim friend, and she was happy about that.

Next week it will be H's turn, but alhamdulillah, only for a day.

I'm tired, but it's not the driving part that drains me. It's the Quran memorization part, where I have to sit with each kid and repeat to them the cut up verses again and again until they get it. At least S can work on it on her own, and N can pick it up easily, but H needs incessant repeating, though Alhamdulillah he seems to be improving a lot.

I will continue to make it a daily goal of memorizing at least 2 ayah from now on insyaallah. Better slow than never, eh.

Unbelievably astoundingly hilarious

"H, listen to the man," I said.

We're still not done with An-Naba'.

He slunk like a snake down the swivel chair; a sign of weary protest.

"Come," I said, gesturing for him to come and sit on my lap.

It usually works when I sith with him and make him repeat after me. Since he's not free of his baby accent yet, it is pretty tough for him to sometimes recite some ayat. He seems to be muddling over the arrangement of sounds. However, lately, he's been improving a lot, Alhamdulillah.

We recited for a while but he was still not getting it.

"That's why you have to listen to the man. Ok, you sit here, I'll turn it on and you listen," I said, leaving him on the couch and heading for the computer.

I played reciter.org and he remained on the couch. After a while, I turned and found him fast asleep. Abdul Basit was still reciting the ayah nevertheless.

I left him sleeping. Then dinner time came. I woke him up.

"H, wake up. Come, let's eat. We have macaroni. Come," I coaxed him.

He had beads of sweat for a goatee and mustache. The air conditioner wasn't on, but he wasn't bothered I suppose. He opened his eyes. They closed again. I persisted.

His eyes slowly opened again. Suddenly he muttered,

"Fazhuqoo falannazeedakum Illa azhaabaa."

"Fazhuqoo falannazeedakum Illa azhaabaa."

"Fazhuqoo falannazeedakum Illa azhaabaa."

Hubby was sitting on the floor, already eating. S and N were in the kitchen ready to eat their macaroni. I sat next to a chanting H, controlling myself from laughing out loud.

I gestured to hubby. He didn't get it. Heck, we don't even understand H's normal speech sometimes. After a while, hubby got it. S came over and grinned. I let H continue his recitation, while also trying to swallow my disbelief. He had actually slept while listening to Abdul Basit recite that particular section of the Surah, and woke up reciting it, thinking I was still doing the surah with him. Astounding!

"Do you remember reciting the surah, H?" I asked him while he was eating.

"No," he said.

"Do you remember sleeping?" I asked again.

"No," he said.

That was yesterday. Today he was still fumbling over that part of the surah, though his impish grin pops up everytime we mention the ayah being his favorite because he said it in his sleep.

Alone

Here I am alone in the house. No kids yakking in the background. No kids bickering. No wails. No cries. No screaming. Peace and quiet.

Yesterday I walked them to the masjid, mostly because I needed the exercise. They all jumped at the mention of walking. N even said,

"I want to live close to the masjid."

"Why?" I asked.

"So I can walk to school, like K."

Our walk was a hurried one because we were running late. It was a good workout. Just before we left, in the mad rush however, H slipped one stair step and hit his face on the heater.

He held on to his mouth and cried. This boy seldom cries when he falls. So it must have hurt. He was bleeding. Apparently he slipped on N's bag, lying carelessly on the step.

I walked back home yesterday, alone, half fearing I would be mugged or kidnapped. Last year, I had walked them to the masjid too, but on the way back, I had H with me. I love walking with my kids. I love the sensation of the prickling morning sun, telling us that we have ample time, that we don't have to rush.

Today I drove them to the masjid. We were so late that we had to drive. As I dropped them off, and drove back home, I thought of how H has grown. Last year he was still too young to attend the masjid summer school. This year he's old enough.

Last year his writing was still scribbly. His d, p, b were still flipped. Now, he's sitting in class listening to his teacher. With his simple cream bag strapped across his shoulder, he looked every bit a big boy. I feel sad. I feel sentimental.

Here I am alone in the house. No kids yakking in the background. No kids bickering. No wails. No cries. No screaming. Peace and quiet.

I need a baby.

Kids' conversation

S was smiling when I arrived to pick her up today from COSI Summer Camp. Evidently, she had fun, and even attained a 'friend'.

While we were having dinner, she said,

"A girl asked me why I wear tudung."

"She said tudung?" asked N, giggling.

"No."

"So what did you say?" I asked. The conversation was starting to get interesting.

"I said I didn't know how to explain it," she said.

"Then what did she say?"

I began to notice that I always have to prod my family members to tell me the chronological occurences of whatever they're telling me. That would either indicate that I'm nosy or they're just not skilled in telling a story. I prefer the latter. I suppose I do ask a lot of questions. I'd make a good psychiatrist, albeit an annoying one.

"Another girl asked if I didn't like my hair."

I recoiled inside.

"Then the girl who asked me asked if I have a problem."

I began to think, haven't these kids met any Muslims?

"Were they nice?" Hubby asked.

S answered in the affirmative.

"You ALWAYS ask that," said H, suddenly breaking into a guffaw.

It is true. There was once when H came home and told us that a boy called him 'Chinese Boy' at the playground. Immediately we pounced on him like hungry investigators, especially me, asking the details of the conversation. Hubby's following question was, "Was he mean to you?"

Supposingly, if someone is being mean, the kids are supposed to do what? I think being defensive is not such a good idea, because it turns us into 'attacking Muslims'. So I don't really know why hubby asked the question. What I can figure out is maybe it's so the kids can distinguish between a sincere question and a taunting one. Now, THAT makes sense.

"If a Muslim asks you, what would you say?" I asked S, curious as to what she might answer.

"Don't you know?" she replied, referring to the questioning 'Muslim'.

"No, well some Muslims might not know. What would you say?" I asked again.

"Because Allah told us to," she said.

"OK, so if a non Muslim asks, what would you say?"

"I don't know, I can't explain it," she said.

"Just say the same thing," I said, deeply joyous of her chosen answer, which goes straight to the heart of the matter, rather than wind down the road of a sign of respect, all women should wear it, it protects us from bad men and etcetera.

"But they don't know Allah,"

Her brows knitted with confusion and despair.

"Well, then if they ask you, you tell them about Allah."

Her brows began to straighten out. A look on slight enlightenment crossed her face.

"That's a perfect chance to tell them about Allah. They will be the ones asking you, so it's your chance. When you tell somebody about Islam, always start with Allah. Don't start with the fact that we cannot eat pigs, we cannot do this, we cannot do that. Start with Allah."

I hoped they all understood, because there were no questions.

"So now if someone asks you, you know what to say?" I asked.

"If you don't know, just tell them that when you find out you'll get back to them, and in your heart say Insyaallah," I added.

She nodded.

Because Allah told us to. How sweet is that? Back to tauheed. A child's simple yet concise answer.

An Anomaly?

I didn't start out like this. My background is not that religious, though I have to say we have our share of realizing things that we were not supposed to do. My circle of friends are very mixed now. When people ask us to find wives (Malaysian) for them, I have trouble finding people who are open to marrying outside the Malay culture. I know the typical Malay mindset, and that's what I'm used to.

My children though is a different story. We the parents, are now a different story. I actually dread going back to Malaysia because I know we have changed so much, that it will be quite difficult for us to blend in. What we do will be seen as anomalies, some will even go as far as saying we are now in a different sect. As much as I am preparing myself, I am also preparing my children. Right now, seeing Muslims do stuff we learned are not Islamically okay, is a challenge for them to digest and understand. To them, Muslims should act 'Muslim'. We keep telling them that Muslims err, but I suppose children have idealistic views, just like I used to have in my naive years.

I mark certain words as 'bad words' for the kids. These are words that defame or demean other people that children now use rampantly among each other especially in school.

'Stupid', 'doofus', 'dumb' are big no nos in our household.

"Ummi, I heard a boy say the S word at the playground. 'S' 'T' 'U' 'P' 'I' 'D'," said H.

Sometimes my tongue slips when I say,

"I'm so stupid," and immediately I get a scolding from one of them.

"Ummi, you said a bad word!"

I realize that I now have to teach them that the word in itself is not 'bad' but it's how it is used that makes it bad, because there was a time when they heard it on the news and questioned me about it.

When they were smaller, I didn't let them hear music. I muted the TV. After a while I let them unmute it. It was such a wrong move. I noticed the changes in them.

Most people might not think this significant, and might even berate me for being such a spoil sport, or even accuse me of being a fanatic. The truth is, I truly do see the effect, because I was able to compare the before and after. We think kids are supposed to be kids.

Some parents think that kids shouldn't be burdened with all the Islamic prohibitions until they are older, so they can 'have fun'. I have to say this is detrimental to their values.

When I told a sister that I was homeschooling my children, she said,

"I don't blame you, what with all that's going on today. But I think high school is when they should be homeschooled because that is when they start, you know, all the teenage stuff."

I nodded, yet mulling over in my head if she was just too young to realize it, or if she has seen all the facts. Choosing the former conclusion, I said,

"Yeah, but it's when they're young that their values are shaped. When they go to school they learn the values from their teachers, everything from how to clean themselves in the toilet, to manners of eating."

She nodded and I could see that she saw it in a new light right there and then. My conclusion was correct, alhamdulillah.

I sent S to preschool. I wasn't completely happy, but I didn't know how to homeschool back then. It was on Valentine's Day that our lives were changed.

I went to her school to pick her up. Before that I had told her teacher that she was not to participate in birthdays, St Patrick's, Valentine and all the other celebrations they base their curiculum on. I felt bad for S but I didn't know what else to do.

When I picked her up, she had with her a box filled with Valentine gifts from her classmates. I sighed and hung my head. We headed for the library, me mulling over a solution, and S probably feeling confused and bad because she knew that Valentine was a no-no.

It was there that I met a sister, an American Muslim with five children, whom she homeschooled. The first time I saw her I was truly amazed. Her children were dressed in proper Islamic attire quite a huge contrast from the Muslims originating from 'Muslim' countries in the United States. At that moment, I felt truly ashamed as a born Muslim.

Here we are, foreigners from so called Muslim countries proudly clad in the western attire; jeans, shirt, caps whereas the reverts born as non Muslims are more attentive to Islamic manners, and strive to be as Islamic as possible. After that moment, I saw things in a different way. I changed my mindset. It was already partly changed before, but after that it underwent an evolution, a major one.

She taught me what there was to know about homeschooling, alhamdulillah. I pulled S out of school, told her teacher and received the shock of my life. The teacher told me,

"When I have kids, I'm going to homeschool too. I'm thinking of homeschooling other people's children too. You know with all the security issues we have, I don't think school is a safe place for children."

She went on to tell me about a case where a kindergartener was raped or molested by the janitor in some school. I nodded, while turning over that new information in my head. It seemed that people homeschool their children for many different reasons.

Recently, I withheld TV from my kids. They have gone without TV for about a month now. No real complaints so far alhamdulillah. A sister told me that my children will grow up resenting me. Nauzubillah. I felt sad and somewhat hurt when I read that, but I was way ahead of her. I had thought about that before I went ahead with my decision. I had thought about it for quite some time, for months. I finally made my decision after reading some other sisters' views and takes on it. I did what I thought was the right decision, insyaallah.

Recently, I had probably presented something in a manner that is short of being gentle. I received some backlashes. I took it as my fault, because I know I could have done it in a better way, but what the sister said to me was hurtful nonetheless. I cried that night.

I didn't dare read her email after I apologized to the whole group. Being human, I suppose I'm still sore over what she said, but I'm not ready to read her words, yet.

The thing is, when you do something out of the norm, sometimes people will see you as a fanatic. Motherhood and parenting is a very hot and controversial issue these days. I'm currently reading 'Mommy Wars' by Leslie Morgan Steiner. I read it today and all the while I was reading it I couldn't help thinking how perfect Islam is. The role of women is not defined by the society, but it is defined by the Creator Himself.

This preoccupation with Quran can also be seen as being unnecessary by some people. That is the sad thing, really, because we don't see the significance of embracing it, and by that I mean truly embracing it as a book of guidance. Shaytaan has succeeded where we have failed; determination in striving a goal. While we are indulging in entertainment and worldly life, Iblis and his army are doggedly working on us, fulfilling his promise when he was kicked out of Jannah. All this time we have this invisible enemy attacking us from every angle possible, yet we are unaware. The human mind generally does not believe in the unseen. That is why it's called faith.

Things such as TV, music, haram entertainment and other things that may seem 'normal' these days are Shayateen's tools to drag us to the hellfire, but we are not aware of that. Our lack of knowledge in the pure concept of tauheed throws us into this pit of ignorance in which we start to question rulings that say this and that are forbidden, going to great lengths to make them okay.

I have seen in my children what happens when we let our guard down. It's downright worrying and scary.

On the authority of Al-Numan bin Basheer, who said : I heared the messenger of Allah say :

"That which is lawful is plain and that which is unlawful is plain and between the two of them are doubtful matters about which not many people know. Thus he who avoids doubtful matters clears himself in regard to his religion and his honor, but he who falls into doubtful matters falls into that which is unlawful, like the shepherd who pastures around a sanctuary, all but grazing therein. Truly every king has a sanctuary, and truly Allah's sanctuary is His prohibitions. Truly in the body there is a morsel of flesh which, if it be whole, all the body is whole and which, if it be diseased, all of it is diseased. Truly it is the heart."

narrated by Bukhari and Muslim

If we don't protect our children's hearts since they are small, how can we then expect them to follow through with Islam's rulings when they reach puberty? If their hearts accumulate the black dots throughout their childhood with things that are 'okay' because they are still children, how can we then start teaching them what is actually the case, and expect them to change? Are we really letting them be kids, or are we losing them to the Shayaateen?

May Allah protect our children's innocence and purity. Ameen.

Broken record

"Ummi, can you recite surah Yusuf?" asked N, as soon as she got out of the bathroom.

"For Maghrib?"

She nodded.

"Now too. You sound so good," she said, still wrapped in her towel, wet hair hanging limply.

I hesitated. I was browsing through my new cookbook we just bought at Marshall's today. It was a really good deal and I really loved the pink and purple on the cover.

It was almost maghrib, and I really wanted to browse through the book. She stood there waiting. A few more minutes of contemplation.

If I didn't do what she was asking me to do, I deserve to be stamped with 'stupid' on my forehead. That was the end result of my contemplation. I would regret it if I didn't. It's not easy to have a kid ask you to recite the Quran just so they could listen. So I complied.

I thought I was exaggerating it a little bit when I mentioned that they stood still when I read Surah Yusuf during salat, but apparently I wasn't. However, S did ask me personally just before maghrib tonight,

"Ummi, can you read a shorter surah?"

"I'll read An-Naba'" I replied.

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

"That's short??"

She should know it, she had trouble memorizing it.

"I may not read all of it though," I said.

So, N didn't get Surah Yusuf in the salat, but at least she got it when she asked for it, right away. She stood next to my bed, clad in her lush red towel, listening to my recitation, where in I fumbled in a few places, so much so that I had to look it up.

"That's all I know," I said at the end.

"What number is that?" she asked.

"Thirty," I replied.

"Wooo..you know a lot!"

"I should have known more by now," I said, putting the Quran back on my corner shelf.

When I told hubby, he asked,

"So how many more do you have?"

"About 70 something," I said.

It struck me that N is expecting to hear the whole surah from me. I offered to have Sa'd Ghamidee on for her tonight but she was adamant that she wanted to hear my recitation. I can't truthfully say I'm flattered because I keep fumbling, but I am a little perplexed as to her adamance. The rhythm was Sa'd Ghamidee's, not mine.

As for maghrib, I did end up reading An-Naba till the end, because in the second rakaa'h S had to go and make wudhu' again.

Earlier, hubby and I received another shock. H was assigned to memorize Surah An-Naba. His teacher had told hubby,

"Masyaallah, he's intelligent, but his attention span is not that great."

Of course! I can imagine H grinning and playing around when asked to do something he already knew. He gets bored easily especially when he already knows the material, or when he doesn't understand.

We learned this week that H is quite above the other kids his age level, and that was why he was assigned that long surah. It was hard enough to have him memorize surah Bayyinah. I wondered how on earth are we to help him memorise An-Naba'.

"He said that kids this age can memorize very quickly," said hubby.

It was right there and then that I understood. I know that fact, but I never applied it, at least not directly to my children, just because it takes a LOT of work just to help them memorize the short surahs. To my surprise, H was actually excited at the prospect of memorizing An-Naba. I had no idea why, until he said,

"It should be easier because S memorized it, so I already heard it."

"Oh yeah, it's a good thing, because if Ummi or Abi can't help you with it, S can," I said, seeing the light in the beginning of a dark tunnel.

S groaned.

"But he won't listen to me!" she protested.

"H, you listen to S okay? Don't talk back to her," I said to H.

He nodded. Yeah, right. Let's see how long that agreement will last. Those two are always bickering. S wants to be right all the time, even when H is not making any sense. Despite my telling her to ignore him, her exasperation with him just keeps on increasing. H, also wants to be right, and cries in frustration when he's opposed.

"I DID say 'ee'," he insisted.

"No, I heard you say 'ee'," I said.

He slumped, and immediately wore that look 'on the verge of crying' on his face. Who won't get exasperated with that?

So, the question now is: how am I supposed to help him memorize surah An-Naba?

Oh Allah, You are the source of strength. So please give me strength and patience, and open up their hearts so they can easily absorb, understand, and implement Your Kalaam. Ameen.

Step Inside

It's funny how when you are scrambling, and searching for something, someone suddenly serves you what you want. My perception and attitude about Quran was renewed after I took Route 114. I have delved into the practice of memorizing before this, but I didn't keep it up. I didn't actually see the importance or significance, astaghfirullah. This highlights the fact that we need to constantly be in conducive surroundings and company.

Muhammad Ibn Faqih had put it all together in such a nice way. After hearing him, you can't help thinking,

"Why don't you want to embrace the Quran and keep it in your heart?"

He told us about how when a person completes his studies and receives his Ijazah, a list of his teachers is listed on it. The list works like lineage, it links the teachers of that particular students chronologically, going back in time, until it reaches the Prophet SAW, then Jibril, then Allah. I guess most of us never think of it this way. Talk about significance. How much more significant can it be, to actually recite the words of Allah that were once recited by the archangel to the most perfect human being ever created?

One hesitation I have about the whole thing is memorizing without knowing the meaning. In other words, memorizing blindly. This is one deterrance for me. I guess Shaytaan has turned it into an excuse for me. So, as I work to get around that problem, I've discovered the beauty of the Quran, especially when hearing it recited by Sa'd Al Ghamidee. I chose Surah Yusuf, for several different purposes.

1. It has many lessons, which I have yet to learn.
2. It's in chronological order
3. It was revealed to comfort and motivate the Prophet SAW, after or during the year of gried
4. It's a complete story
5. Yasir Qadhi has a CD about the tafsir, which I have yet to listen to

I am moving quite slowly, very slowly in fact, but I think I will take my time to digest it.

Now, applying this to the future generation. A dear friend gifted me with a link
last week. Just in time too. Since the kids' summer program is chock full of memorization, she sent it at just the right time. I was blown away by what I read in that ebook. Subhanallah, the dedication of that anonymous mother is just an example begging to be followed. I questioned myself though. Will I be able to do just that?

The answer lies within myself. Like I have always maintained, in order to have good children, the parents have to be righteous themselves. It all starts with the parents, and that is why, parenting is one of the most difficult thing to undertake. You are not only responsible of these young lives in terms of providing material wealth, but you are also responsible in providing spiritual wealth. I may have made it seem much much more difficult than people are ready to accept, but parenting is serious business. However, it's also a means through which we can attain Jannah, because we are forced to assess and better ourselves for the sake of pleasing Allah, insyaallah.

"Think of the angels hovering over you, their wings spread out spanning the sky. It's a sign of love and protection. Allah's words in your heart. You're reciting what was once recited by the prophet SAW himself, and better yet, by Jibril, and even better, by Allah, "

was what I told the kids when we discussed the crux of memorizing the Quran. It takes a lot of sacrifice, which truth be told, I'm not fully ready to commit, but I'm praying I will get there, all of us insyaallah. As of right now, I'm trying to figure out how I can achieve this. May Allah make it easy for us to remain constant in pleasing Him. Ameen.

The beauty of iman, the beauty of having Jannah in your mind at all times, the beauty of having His words replayed in your mind like a recording of your favorite music, is simply indescribable.

First Week

Three days of the week they have gone to the masjid for the summer program. Finally I have the house all to myself for 3 hours on those 3 days. The first day I entertained guests. The second day I did some work at the library. The third day, which is today, I napped.

However, the summer program is also hard work for me, because they were all given assignments: memorizing surahs. S is now doing An Naba. N just finished Al Aadiyat. H is still working on Al Zalzalah.

Yesterday, H had his first assignment: Al Zalzalah.

it wasn't easy. He still can't pronounce R correctly. He stutters. He has a little trouble repeating after us. So memorizing for him took quite some time. S has somewhat the same problem, though since she can already read, it's less of a hassle. N, on the other hand, seems to have been bestowed with an ability to memorize simply from hearing. Her auditory senses are excellent Masyaallah.

I may have been complaining of her lack of attention and what nots. Many a times I told myself, "This girl had better have something with which to compensate for her lack of attention." That something surfaced to my sight today. Hubby has said this to me a LOT of times, but I have always waved them off. He's right. She does have the capability to 'get it' rather quickly.

However, I was picking them up yesterday at the masjid. As N ran out the door headed towards the van, her teacher came to me and asked,

"What's wrong with her?"

Before she stated the problem, I already knew it. N is quiet. She speaks very softly. If she doesn't feel like it, she will not speak, even if coaxed, or commanded to. Even to us, she doesn't necessarily comply when told to respond verbally. I knew what the problem was, and I explained it. If it was exasperating to me, imagine how it would be for strangers.

When we got back home, I repeatedly told N to please respond to her teacher. I somewhat ignored her yesterday, to get my point across her bland expression. She got my point.

Today, when I picked them up, she came home elated, and said,

"I talked!"

In addition, she also made a new friend. They came home happy today. The opposite of yesterday when S fumed, sulked and blurted,

"It's not fair! You always get more homework when you're older!"

Today seems to be a different case altogether.

Hubby at first complained about the price of sending them to this program.

"We might as well just teach them at home," he said.

It's not so much about the teaching to me. It's more about them mingling with other people, forming bonds, and experiencing a school-like setting.

H seems to be blending is just fine. With his chirpy personality, I suppose he doesn't have any problem of being too quiet. In fact, it's just the opposite,to which he declared,

"I always talk a lot!"

Today I learned that there is another boy who talks more than him. Surprise, surprise.

The girls are more shy, which is not such a bad thing, but still needs to be worked on. Most people would be shocked to learn that both hubby and I are originally shy people. It's true, and I think the girls have mostly picked up on this trait even before they were born. I struggled to overcome this trait when I came to the United States. Hopefully the girls will be able to overcome it also, though I don't necessarily deem it a bad trait. Talk about societal pressure. Everyone is now somwhat forced to become extroverts.

Summer School

July 4th, yesterday, was the first day of the kids's summer school at the masjid. When I picked them up, S already had an assignment : memorize Surah An Naba from ayat 1 -17. I balked inside, but didn't say anything, for S's sake.

She worked on it as soon as we got home. We continued this morning after Fajr and before she left for the masjid.

The Golden Hours, that's what Muhammad Ibn Faqih said when we took Route 114 in Dearborn. One tip to memorizing Quran is to do it during the golden hours: 5 am - 8 am. I did that with S today.

Summer is hard. She has to wake up for Fajr, which is really early : before 6 am. She prays Maghrib which is at around 9 am. So she only goes to bed around 9:30 pm. That's not enough sleep for a kid. Doc said kids under 10 should get 10 hours if I'm not mistaken.

At first I let her go back to sleep after Fajr. However, I don't usually get things done later on during the day if I don't do them right after Fajr. One of those things is, her Quran recitation. So I told her that she could go back to sleep after we read Quran. She complied.

After receiving this assignment, hubby told me not to make her read Quran but work on her memorization instead. This morning after we gave salam, he asked S,

"Do you want to go back to sleep?"

"Yes, but I can't," she sounds almost on the verge of crying.

I felt sorry for her, but I also couldn't help thinking the good this might give her in the long run, insyaallah.

I worked with her until just before 7 am, and then told her she can go back to sleep.

People have asked me,

"Do you have them call you teacher when you're teaching them?"

The question struck me as very hilarious at first. After a while, I realized that it's somewhat a legit question. Homeschooling, despite its world wide patronage is still quite a mystery to the world at large.

No, I don't have them call me teacher. My role as a mother is still there, but I'm also a teacher. Naturally all mothers are teachers. It's a mother's job to raise her children, and by raising I mean teaching them values in life. Mothers who homeschool simply differ from non homeschooling mothers in the sense that they take on the full responsibility of educating their children.

Mothers who do not homeschool still have to help their children with their homework. It's the same. The hassle is somewhat the same, except it might be a little more with homeschooling mothers, because it's a full responsibility instead of a partial or shared one.

If I do not teach my children, no one else will. Thus, I cannot afford to plunge myself into taking on other responsibilities outside my home and leave the ones at home. I just realized this recently what with all the projects I volunteered for and are about to volunteer for.

I realized that my time is fully occupied at home. At times I cannot even afford to pick up the phone. At times it makes me feel like I'm selfish, but honestly, my day IS very occupied. At times I don't even have time to chat with hubby because we're both so tired to chat. Quality time with the family is very important to me. I guess you could say I am somewhat of a geek. Okay, maybe a full time geek, but I have a new saying: geek is good, or better yet, geek is great.

The concept of a mother as a teacher is not strange at all when you really think about it. My children do not have a problem listening to me when I teach them (well generally speaking). One question I always get from people is,

"Don't you have problems of them not paying any attention to you?"

We all know how kids don't listen when their mothers teach them. To the kids, only what the teacher says goes. What the mother says, falls second to what 'teacher' says.

Well, not necessarily. If you, as a mother, take on that role of an educator from the moment your children are infants, the role will build itself naturally bi iznillah. That is the true role of mothers. That role and responsibility is an honor bestowed to us mothers by Allah. We should embrace it wholeheartedly.

When we took Fiqh Of Love in Indianapolis, Yaser Birjas asked the brothers and sisters to form a group and jot down five best criterias of their spouses/future spouses. One of the brothers' criterias is intelligence.

"Look at how men think. They expect women to think like them. See, they choose intelligence," he said.

Later on, hubby told me,

"That's not the only way we can look at it. You marry a woman because of her intelligence so you would have intelligent children."

I honestly never thought of it that way, though I vaguely remember him saying that years ago. It made me think.

Education is NEVER wasted. I have a Bachelor's degree, and I'm not working. Generally people will say I'm wasting my education. My mother would have a fit if she hears that, that much I know. Education is never a waste, especially for mothers. This is because they will be the one in charge of educating their children. However, nowadays, people only think of the secular education, which is not correct.

Sa'id Ibn Al Mussayyab was one of the tabi'een living during the time of Abdul-Malik's reign. The Caliph asked to maryy his daughter but Sa'id refused, amd married her to one of his students instead.

One day as his new son in law was about to go out of his house to attend Sa'id's study circle, his new wife asked hime where he was going.

"To your father's halaqa," he answered.

"Sit down. I have all of his knowledge," she replied.

Such a blessing it is to be married to a wife who is not only educated in the worldly sense, but more so in the matters of the deen, for she is the one who will raise the future generation. The future of the ummah somewhat lies in her hands so to speak.




http://members.tripod.com/oum_abdulaziz/famous10.html

Yusuf

H has started to pray with us. At first it was merely a suggestion by hubby. H didn't respond. As he was sitting sipping his milk in the kitchen, I said to him,

"H, hurry up. Tomorrow we're gonna play tennis after Fajr, and then go straigh to Home Depot for the free workshop, so you need to sleep early."

Immediately his eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously.

"Ok, I'll go pray," he added.

He actually did Maghrib with us. Today, I told him,

"H go brush your teeth and go potty."

"But I'm gonna pray," he replied.

I was a little taken aback that he insisted, but I happily obliged. He put on his thawb and prayed with us. I practiced surah Yusuf, and I noticed S slacking a bit after a while. H and N remained still throughout and I shortened the break up of the ayats (I never got that far in the first place anyway).

Earlier in the day, N suddenly piped up,

"Alif Laaaaam Raa."

Apparently my contstant rewinding of Sa'ad Ghamidee's recitation of Surah Yusuf had gotten to them, especially N, who picks up on audios really quickly. So it was little wonder that they remained still when I read it during salat, though S began to move a little bit restlessly.

These kids might even memorize the surah before I do.