Parenting 102

My ongoing problem and battle with the kids: keeping their room clean, and the whole house for that matter.

I reminisce the time when they were all under the age of 3. The house was CLEAN! Their toys fit one plastic tub. Now, oh boy, we had to throw some of their toys, and for some odd reason, the toys keep reproducing. Everytime I go into their room, I get so agitated, and I told them,

"You have to keep your room clean. You know, did you notice how I always get angry when your room is messy? It's because shaytaan like mess and that's why I get angry. My head is a mess too!"

It's my fault. I didn't really teach them to put their toys away once they are done playing with it. I only taught them to dump their toys in the toy tub every time before nap and bedtime. They didn't really grasp the concept of putting one toy away once they were done playing with it before taking out another toy.

So now, what do I do? I try this again and again, and again.

"Keep your room clean. You know how to do that? Once you're done with something, put it away right away so your room doesn't get messy in the first place. Trust me, you won't even have to clean up if you keep doing this."

But it happens again and again, and again. I think part of the reason is because they're all crammed into one room. There is an imbalance of workload between the three of them.

I am currently reading the book, Beyond Sibling Rivalry. I notice that S and H always fight. After reading the book, I think I know why for sure, even though I kind of guessed it before.

S feels that it is unfair that H is treated like a baby mostly by me. She feels it's unfair that she has to do a lot but N and H don't. It is true. I have depended on her a lot, especially in situations where I was in a hurry. I even realize that her name slips off my tongue so easily when I need help. Poor S. I have taught her to be independent ever since I realized N was in my tummy. So she resents that fact and takes it out on H. She doesn't take it out on N that much, I think, because N is quieter, but H is more verbal, and somewhat annoying to her.

So to fix this, I have to start watching what I do in terms of handing them workloads. I also notice S is very quick to point out any unfairness. Before, when she used to do this, I would reply with something curt, to get the job done. Now, I keep my mouth shut, and treat it as a reminder.

I also finished reading, How To Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen so Kids Will Talk, and I tried out some of their techniques.

Acknowledging feelings is one thing I have been doing more of. When the kids express their feelings, instead of negating them, or advising them, I would acknowledge those feelings. I had a nice talk with H and N when I did this, separately of course.

With N it was about hijab.

"You feel like you don't want to wear it sometimes, do you?"

"I feel like I don't want to wear it ever," she said.

I held my tongue and carefully phrased me next sentence.

"I know, me too. You know, sometimes I feel like I want to take it off and feel the wind in my hair. I never get to."

I could see her eyes lighting up and she began to pay more attention. I was nursing Baby Z at this time. I continued.

"But you know what?"

"What?"

"If I do take it off, I might feel cool now, but I will be hot forever. You know where?"

"In Naar," she replied.

"So I can take it off now if I want, but when I think about it, I think, 'hmmm, maybe not' because then I might be hot in Naar forever, just to be cool here for a while. So I just have to wear it."

"In the book Frog and Toad, they talk about willpower," she suddenly said.

"What's willpower?" I asked her.

"It's when you really want to do something but you can't do it, then you have lots of willpower."

"Oh, so do you have to lots of willpower to keep wearing your tudung*?"

"Yes."

After that conversation, she left the room, and later on, she asked me,

"Ummi can you tell S what we talked about?"

"You tell her," I said.

"No, you tell her."

"Maybe next time," I said.

One deep conversation was enough for one night for me. With S, I have other issues to iron out.

My conversation with H occured in the van in the masjid parking lot, while we were waiting for hubby to come. Somehow we got to talking about video games and basically the conversation went on the same route, except that the focus of the conversation was that you get more reward if you withhold yourself from doing something if you really want to do it rather than not doing something because you don't want to do it anyway.

"If I don't drink alcohol because I don't like it anyway, I get rewarded. But if I really want to drink it, but I stop myself, then I get even more reward," I said.

"So, if let's say you hang out with your friends and they ask you to watch TV or play video games a lot, and you say no when you really want to,..." I began.

"I get more reward," he chipped in.

"Yeah, I know it's hard, but in Jannah you can ask Allah for whatever you want," I said.

I was actually surprised that he understood immediately the concept of more reward for patience of withholding desires. H might be a little difficult to convince because sometimes he would resort to agreeing with what we say just to make the conversation flow. Or he would stubbornly disagree despite anything you say. So the trick with him is to engage him in the conversation.

With S, just last night, it was very hectic around maghrib time. I had a headache, Baby Z peed on the bed, we had to do emergency laundry. Tempers were running short on hubby's side. Mine too but I was too tired to get all worked up.

"Don't even mention ice cream tonight!" hubby hollered at the kids, because N had spilled sirap on the table. (Let's just say the kitchen was a big mess, it has been a very long and hot day, and the whole house was very messy too)

S blamed it on her siblings. She cried. I told her to quiet down in anger. After we prayed though, I told hubby to retract his words on S.

I called her to my room and said,

"You feel it's unfair that you always do a lot but N and H don't."

She didn't answer. She cried and nodded emphatically.

"I feel it's unfair too," I said.

"Go and eat your ice cream," I said.

With S, it's more of an emotional roller coaster. At least I hope, she won't be filled with so much resentment to her siblings so as to foster more ill feelings, inshaallah.

This is not easy for me. I wasn't raised this way, so it's a totally new experience for me. Biiznillah I can do it. Allah, give us patience and wisdom to parent our children. Now all I have to do is relay all this to hubby since he doesn't read.

Ham

"H, of all the people you meet, who do you like to hang out with?"

"Zk and AR."

"Sometims AR listens to me more, and Zk if I say I want to play something he doesn't listen to me."

"Oh, how old is AR?"

"Ten."

"How about your other friends, like at soccer and stuff?"

"Oh, them? I don't really have friends at soccer."

"But who do you like? What about at the Tuttle Park programs?"

"Not really. They always talk about ham sandwich and stuff. It's annoying."

"Oh, they do?"

"Yeah, one time, they gave me one, but I didn't take it."

"Then this one boy he said 'I don't like ham," and I said 'me neither'."

"So who do you like more, Muslims or non Muslims?"

"Muslims."

Everything Happened!

I dropped N and H today off for their tennis camp. When I picked them up, H, in his excitement, let out a string of incomprehensible words, probably trying to tell us the day's events.

"What didn't happen?" I asked him.

He paused for a while, and answered,

"Everything happened!"

I burst out laughing halfway home while he and N talked about Chocolate Thunder and how fun it was. I have yet to find out what Chocolate Thunder is.

"We played games."

"How? You don't know how to hit the ball," I said.

"I always know how to hit the ball!" he said indignantly.

"How about you N?" I asked.

"He taught us," she replied.

Well, maybe hubby won't be too tired telling them to practice hitting the ball when we go for our tennis outing, which has yet to happen this summer.

Z's First Hayl Meeting

Last Sunday Baby Z attended his first Hayl Meeting. Hubby had asked me repeatedly the night before if I wanted to go. I never answered because I didn't know how it was going to be Saturday night. However, Sunday morning, both Baby Z and I were awake at 8:30 am, so I thought, "Why not?"

We were 10 minutes late. Had to drop off SNH at Sh's house, pick up a brother, and deal with the stroller. B had already started the meeting when we got there, of course. As I sat down, Baby Z awoke. He wanted to nurse. I got out of the auditorium and sat in a nearby classroom.

As i turned on the lights, I couldn't help thinking about the Virginia Tech shooting. While he was nursing, I was thinking what it would be like were it to happen, nauzubillah. I guess that was the first time I have been in a campus classroom for quite some time. On saturday, we had some Indonesians over and over the course of our conv ersation, a sister mentioned of a research that found, that nursing mothers who are happy and smiling have healthier babies, because the quality of the milk is affected. Well, I hope to banish such sinister thoughts next time I nurse Baby Z, inshaallah.

As I struggled to burp him, he spit up big time. I went back inside the auditorium and lay him in his car seat. A few mionutes later, I heard a familiar sound from him. Apparently, he wanted a tour of the Hitchcock Hall, mainly the restroom. So I got up and took him to the restroom, which was on the first floor. That meant I had to go up one floor. He was smiling and cooing as I changed and talked to him. Yeah, sure, he was happy to get the tour.

We went back and I was able to remain in the auditorium for the rest of the meeting. As for Baby Z, as soon as we were getting into groups, he was passed around from one adoring fan to the other, suich that he wasn't able to take his nap. Later on at home, he napped for 3 straight hours! I had to wake him up because I was full.

Baby Z's first Hayl meeting. All the works.

Smoke!

My eldest daughter is asleep with Baby Z in her arms. My big boy H is napping without any lunch after a soccer game in the morning till noon. My middle daughter is upstairs waiting for me while I upload the photos from the camera onto the computer. And I'm gulping down lychee (that's my lunch).

The past few days hubby and I have been busy with Hayl AlMaghrib stuff and it has been really dragging for days. It isn't particularly easy trying to get everything by a looming deadline with a crying baby who wakes up every couple o' hours, incessant phone calls due to Hayl stuff, nursing demands from Baby Z, three other kids who have summer programs at scattered hours throughout the day, hubby's orders that the kids do Quran, which I have to supervise on top of everything else, my own sleepiness, and like icing on a cake, a neighbor's house that would have burned our apartment down had we not seen the smoke coming out of our oven.

We were lounging in the living room when we were disrupted by a very intense stench coming from the kitchen. As we had closed the living room window, it was obvious that the smell came from the kitchen window so we closed it. However the stench lingered. It smelled at first like BBQ but each time we went to the kitchen sink the stench grew worse. Just before maghrib, hubby noticed smoke coming from our kitchen. I opened the oven and peeked though I know we didn't have anything in it because I haven't been cooking for days. Smoke was coming out. Immediately hubby went out to look at our neighbor's house. It was filled with smoke!

I was holding Baby Z. Hubby ran next door, pried off their screen and unlocked their door through the window. Apparently and fortunately, no one was in. Smoke billowed out like a pot boiling over. He dashed inside. I stood at our door, still holding Baby Z, not quite knowing what to do. Afraid that hubby would be overwhelmed by the smoke, I grabbed the phone and proceeded to call 911, but thought twice about it.

"What if everything was ok? I would be wasting their time." I held back.

"J!"

"Sgl!" I called out. A sister was coming by to drop money for the P10, and she apparently saw all the smoke coming out of our neighbor's house. It probably looked like our apartment was smoking too.

"My husband's inside!" I yelled to her.

Well, to make a long story short, hubby took off his shirt to silence the smoke alarm while standing on the stair railing. (I know that is a precarious perch, for the railing is very very thin)

"They had a pot on the stove," he said, later on.

He reeked of smoke when he came in. It was maghrib (what I call hectic time in our house).

Apparently they had left a pot on the stove and it had burned.

Alhamdulillah hubby didn't go to the masjid yet, or our apartment might have been filled with smoke too, judging from the smoke coming out of our dormant oven!

Well, alhamdulillah all ended well. I was a little worried about hubby and smoke inhalation, but he was too busy with P10, I don't think he will see a doctor to have it checked.

Chatting with the kids

"Zk said Malaysians are stinky," said N.

"Huh?"

"No, no, he said 'what's this smell? did you fart?' and I said no, and he said, 'it smells malaysian'," H elaborated for my benefit.

I guffawed.

They told me funny stories of AM, the hafidh who is teaching them Quran at the masjid.

"He gives me the jitters," said S.

"Why?" I asked.

"His face looks scary!"

"One time he killed a bee and his face went like this."

"Did the kids laugh?" I asked.

"Duuh!" S replied.

"They did?" I asked.

"Yeah, you don't see that every day."

"So do you look at his face when you recite your surah?" I asked.

"Yeah, but now I just look down," said H.

He went on:

"I used to stare at him but I think he thinks that it's rude."

"How do you know he thinks it's rude?" I asked.

"Because he said to me, 'Blink!'"

"So now I look at him when he says the surah but when I say mine, I look at his lap."

I chuckled.

"Do you like him though?"

They nodded.

"If we move do you want to take him with us?" I asked. H had once expressed that if we move he would like to bring the masjid and its people with us so he won't be sad to leave Columbus.

"Do you like him or the Sheikh?

"Him."

"I thought you like the Sheikh?"

"No, the Sheikh just looks nice. AM looks scary but he's nice and funny too. He's only scary when we do the Quran. One time, when I said my part wrong, he said it out loud it my ear, I thought I couldn't hear anymore after that."

"One time he said that someone didn't so their surah and M laughed, then he said, 'you only laugh if you do something good' and then he did this funny face 'he he'."

The prospect of us leaving Columbus saddens me when I think of the bonds we have formed here. When H said that he would like to bring the masjid and some people with us if we move, it really struck me how attached he is to the masjid and its people, and I LOVE that, alhamdulillah!
Of course at first I laughed when he said it, but then I realized the implications of his suggestion.

Today, we dropped off S and N at M's house. I had talked to S about making friends, and it was not easy for her because as it is, she is lacking friends. However, I wasn't about to let her just pick up any friends just for having friends sake. I made her understand that you are who your friends are, and that when she actually acquires one, it'd better be a good one.

As for H, wel, boys will be boys, talks about farts, and Malaysians, and Muslims having pointy noses, and making fart sounds with armpits. I can rest assured that I will never be short of any source of entertainment in times of boredom; just chat 'em up!

Abi, Come Home!

I awoke to the whimpers of Baby Z. H who was already up and about came in and began to churn out his usual chatter. I instinctively tuned him out in my groggy state. Somehow, I went back to sleep and awoke to H's panic report:

"Ummi, there's a truck next to our space and the van's not there!"

"Uh oh, call Abi and tell him," I said, and went right back to sleep.

"Ummi, Abi's coming home. He said, 'Oh no' and said he'll becoming home soon."

This time I really woke up and dashed for the window to look at the missing van.

"Ya Allah! Call Abi!" I exclaimed.

There stood a moving truck, a long white moving truck in the parking space next to ours, totally blocking any view we would have of our blue van.

"H, of course you can't see the van! The truck is blocking it! Go call Abi now!"

Mirth percolated up my throat

"He's not picking up!" he yelled back.

"H! He's probably on the way home now, and you made him come back home for nothing!"

I was half laughing and half scolding him. He looked sheepish and indignant.

"No, it's not blocking. The van's gone!"

He can't be serious! I thought.

"Ok, go outside and see if the van's there. Go! Now!" I urged him.

"Noo..the van's not there!" he insisted.

"Go and look, quick! H! you just made Abi come home for nothing!" I chortled.

He ran out barefeet, peeked next to the moving truck, and from his widened grin I knew I was right. He ran back with a very sheepish grin.

"Ohh H, you're in trouble. Abi's gonna come home and be mad that you wasted his time," I chuckled as I left him to go back to bed.

I lay back down with Baby Z, who was wide awake, looking at his surrounding.

"Look at your silly brother, Z," I said to him.

A wide smile formed on his face, his eyes looking straight at H who was standing over me, sheepish grin never having left his face.

"Look H, he's laughing at his silly brother."

I don't know what went through H's mind, but when hubby came back, he was under the school table in his room.

"Who wants me home?! Who wants me home?!"

I got up and met hubby coming up the stairs feigning anger. H remained under the table quietly.
I chuckled.

"Just tell me you want me home!" boomed hubby as H giggled under the table.

"Well, now that I'm home, recite to me Al-Insaan," said hubby.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, H and his antics.

So adorable!

"I can't bear to NOT look at this baby!"

"He's such an adorable baby!"

"I love his cheeks."

"I love all of him!"

Hubby had left us in the van in the parking lot while he dashed into K Mart to get me some nursing pads. The kids, as usual were enamored by the sleeping Baby Z.

Baby Z is almost 2 months old, and their fascination with him is still fresh, mashaallah.

I woke up one morning and found two kids sitting quietly at the foot of my bed, looking at their baby brother.

S even asked if she could change Baby Z's diaper. I only let her put it on because I have beun to wash him in the bathroom, Malaysian style, instead of doing it on the changing table. It's quicker and easier to do it with water like we did with all the kids.

Yesterday, as I struggled to take a nap, S put Baby Z to sleep. It was the longest nap he took yesterday. We had even dubbed him 'The king of crybaby' because he would wake up after only a short while of what seemed like deep sleep.

Baby Z on the other hand, I think have begun to realize the fact that he has lder siblings who like to hover over him.

We went to the library yesterday. N was the only one who remembered to pick some books to read to Baby Z.

A Day at the 'Beach'

Yesterday Baby Z spent a day at the 'beach' napping!

If only he would nap like that at home, I repeatedly said to myself.

I think it hit 90 degrees yesterday, and I wasn't too keen on bringing him out for the graduation BBQ held by the Malaysians.

However, hubby was going with the kids anyway, since they wanted to play with the sand, and I thus had a choice of staying home or going with them. My initial plan was to stay home and catch a few winks, but just as I lay in bed next to Baby Z, he woke up and refused to go back to sleep.

"I'm going then. I'm not going to stay home with a crying baby all by myself," I told hubby.

Sleepy and tired, I was in no state to be with Baby Z all by myself. I would bear the heat and as it was quite late in the afternoon, I figured it was okay as long as we kept him in the shade.

He whimpered a bit in the van. By the time we were at the park, he was fast asleep and continued to do so while the kids played in the sand.

Due to his continuous waking up the day before, I had started writing down the times he started sleeping and the times he woke up to see if he was getting at least 15 hours of sleep. However, as soon as I saw him snoozing at the beach, at the BBQ, and it was very windy too, I said to myself,

"Forget it. He has 15 hours of sleep inshaallah!"

And today, subhanallah, (I hope it's not temporary), just before I walked in the bathroom, I took a peek at him in the room. He was falling asleep all by himself! He woke up when I came out though but at least that was a good 10 minutes at least that he slept.

And just now, in his bassinet, I lay him on his right, rubbed his back while Saad AlGhamidi recited Yusuf, and before long, he was sound asleep. Before, I had to recite Yusuf to him and rock him to sleep and even then, it wasn't that easy for him to find a comfortable position and fall asleep.

I really hope this is not temporary. I made the dua yesterday and allahu akbar today it was easy. Now maybe we're getting somewhere with my trying to figure out how in heaven I am going to homeschool the kids with Baby Z! I dread August.

Chinese Baby

"He looks like a Chinese baby!" S commented as she readied herself to snap a photo of Baby Z.

I had taken to bringing him out for as many mornings as I can to get his does of Vitamin D from the golden ball. Once I do, we usually go to the playground. 15 minutes is the tops and then we walk back home.

Baby Z is beginning to look more and more Chinese I suppose.

"He's sleepy," S said.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"His eyes look like crescents."

I took a picture of Baby Z sleeping on his side, and when I looked at the photo, the first thing that came to my mind was Abdulbary Yahya.

Hubby is even calling him, "Hey there you Chinese Muslim!"

I wonder where he got the Chinese look from?

Souvenir for Big Brother

"Eww!" they screamed in unison.

They gathered around it, and recoiled at the sight. On the floor of their room lay the item of attention: Baby Z's belly stump. It had fallen right on their bedroom floor.

"Pick it up," I said.

"Eww!" they chorused again.

I emitted a chuckle and left them with the item of disgust.

A while later I came back, it was gone.

Big Bro H had put it in a huge ziploc bag and placed the ziploc bag in his three ring binder.

"See!" he exclaimed, proud of his own little souvenir from his baby brother, whom he has been waiting for to play soccer with.

I wonder how long that stump will survive in his binder. Of all of them, I never thought he would be the one to claim possession of the 'Eww' inducing item of disgust out of love for his new brother. Well, baby brothers can do wonders, I guess.

New?

"It doesn't feel like he's new," she said.

"Huh?"

I didn't understand the statement.

"It doesn't feel like Z is new," she repeated.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"There's not a lot of new stuff that we have to get," she replied.

"You mean you feel like we've had him all along?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Why do you feel that way?"

"Because we used to get stuff for you when you were pregnant."

That coming from my eldest, the biggest help in the house. I had thought she meant that it felt like we have had Baby Z all along, even when he was in my belly, which was sweet. I had wanted a Z if it was a boy and for some time we even started to call the baby Z. On the other hand, we had trouble finding a girl name if it was a girl. The kids didn't like the name Rayyanah, which hubby wanted to spell Raeyyana, or something of that variation, to make it unique. I loved the name, and was about to embark on another girl name search towards the end of the pregnancy. I picked Rumaysa, but we didn't really agree as a family.

Alhamdulillah, Allah made it easy. Out came a boy. Z it was then.

I asked N and H if they felt like Z was new. H said yes and N said. "A little bit new."

In a way, I suppose we have had Z all along, though I keep calling him H and sometimes J.

As weeks go by

Week 2, Baby Z attended his first Juma'ah prayer, as his doctor visit happened to be just before the Juma'ah prayer started at a nearby location. While hubby and H prayed, I nursed a hungry Baby Z at far end of the rented gymnasium. His first Juma'ah, he was too busy eating.

Week 3, Baby Z had his first outing as we bruoght my mother downtown for sightseeing. He also sent his Grandma to the airport at the end of this week. Of course he was oblivious to the whole farewell thing. Baby Z also slept through his brother's soccer game.

Week 4, Baby Z was weighed and had gained 26 oz in 15 days. A whopping 7 lbs 11 oz. Alhamdulillah. I was worried he wasn't gaining what with all the spitting up. He also attended his first waleemah this week. This was where someone insisted he was small, didn't look like a one-month old baby and looked fragile as he was mistaken for a girl.

Week 5, mainly because of Baby Z we ditched going to the Malaysian Midwest Games, so hubby went by himself. We spent an interesting weekend by ourselves at home. Baby Z attended his second waleemah. Oh boy, does this mean anything?

Week 6, Baby Z is becoming increasingly hooked and used to having Surah Yusuf recited to him to lull him to sleep.

H has started to call him Chubby.
S is crazy about picking him up all the time.
N kisses him every chance she gets.

S seldom talks to him, just as she resolutely refuses to practice her surah aloud.
When we discussed it over dinner, H said,

"Because she's embarassed."

N constantly says,

"Z! Z!"

while H will actually talk to him, though not in Motherese.


H: What happened to you and Chubby?

N: "His faraj looks funny. It hangs. Is there something wrong with it?"

Me: "How come you guys don't go to the masjid as often as you did when I was pregnant?"

S smiled and replied,

"Because of Z."

N keeps asking about the 'next baby'.

N: "How old will Zeyd be when the newborn comes out?"

Me: "What?"

N repeats her question, I still don't understand, but finally does.

Me: "I don't know."

H: "Ask Abi, he knows."

Me thinking to myself, this boy thinks the world of his father.

When hubby left for Dekalb, Illinois during the Memorial weekend for the Midwest games, H kept asking,

"When will Abi come back?"

"Is he coming back tomorrow?"

"Can I call him?"

After hubby told him over the phone that he was going to home in 45 minutes, H said,

"I wonder how he calculated it."

I still can't believe we have 7 years difference between H and Baby Z. I must be very old.

Watching the baby

Baby Z and I went home on Sunday. I was excited for the kids. They had been waiting for this baby for quite some time. They were even skeptical over whether there was going to be a baby, after what happened with Julaybib. So the homecoming was pretty special, alhamdulillah a contrast from my homecoming with Julaybib, which was also around noon.

Hubby, my mother, S and H went to the organic store, so it was just N, me and Baby Z at home. I was exhausted, as I didn't have enough sleep the night before as Baby Z cried and only let me sleep for about one hour total.

N was sitting on our bed, looking at Baby Z. She seemed fascinated by him. As I drifted off to sleep, I told her,

"Just watch him, ok."

A few hours later, hubby came back.

"N, what're you doing? Let Ummi rest. Come," hubby whispered to her.

"But ummi said to look at the baby," she replied.

Apparently, she had spent the hours just sitting there and literally watching him sleep, never taking her eyes off him.

That was April 22. After a few weeks, everytime I wake up in the morning, it was her big eyes, long hair that hovers over me. She made it her routine to pop in my room first thing in the morning to look at Baby Z.

Safe to say, they are all in love with Baby Z.

Friday, April 20, 11:14 am

Baby Z was born alhamdulillah. He waited for his father to get there from a 6 hour drive from St Louis before coming out.

All Puffed Up

All three of them now help me with my socks and shoes.

S helped me with my shoes at the shoe rack in the masjid foyer without me asking her to.

"Is this your daughter?" asked the lady behind me.

"Yes," I replied.

"Maa shaa Allah! Jazakillah khair! You help your mother!" she exclaimed at S.

"Need any help?"

That's the question I always hear from S nowadays.

I lay in bed yesterday because my feet and hands were swollen, and I had N and H massaging my feet.

Lunch time came. S boiled some eggs as we had nothing no meat dishes. Last weekend was a very eventful weekend as we hosted our first AlMaghrib class as a reinstated Qabeelat! Allahu Akbar! So hubby didn't have time to cook between all the running around registering people, handling financial aid money, getting tea, restraining late people from entering the auditorium, cleaning up after the event.

I stayed in bed when N and H left me to go downstairs and eat lunch. H came up with a plate of rice and a nicely peeled boiled egg for me. I didn't even ask for it, thinking I would go downstairs when I am able to.

So I had lunch in bed yesterday.

Today me feet and hands swelled again, of course and N and S massaged my feet for me. I fell asleep and they cleaned the house and did what I told them to do.

Masha Allah. Alhamdulillah. I can ask for nothing more.

Positive Reinforcement

N will never fail to wake me up for Asr after our naps. We have taken to forcing them to nap now because Isha is getting later and they also wake up at Fajr and do not go back to sleep afterwards.

H went with hubby to the Hayl meeting and a picnic afterwards so it was just us ladies in the house. We took a nap few hours after Zuhr and right when the azan was called, N came to my room and woke me up. It took me a while to wake up and I told them to pray first. They did. As I was trying to get up, I heard N reciting the Quran.

Today is Sunday. They didn't have any To Do Lists to abide by on the weekends. Sure, they have chores on Saturday, but Sundays they're usually free. Subhanallah! I suppose it has become a routine that it's so hard to shake off. Quran after Asr. They even resisted the urge to go and play outside before they read the Quran. S checked N's recitation. Right after N was done, they both left the house.

"What time should we come back?" shouted S before she closed the front door.

"6:30!" I croaked.

They came home around that time, while I was cooking and mopping the kitchen.

I felt bad for not offering them any praise when they did the above, because right when I went into the bathroom to shower, the bathtub was slippery with spilled shampoo: N's doing.

Of course she got some scolding. I told her to clean the bathtub after Maghrib. She did.

Sometimes I feel so evil. The times when they do praiseworthy acts are when I should have opened my mouth. The times when they do 'kid-expected' acts are when I should withhold my tongue and act with wisdom.

However, subhanallah, you can't help but love the purity and innocence Allah bestows in our children at such tender ages. You can't help but (yes, despite our faults and failure to abide by 'wise-parenting') feel blessed when the children behave in ways that just blow you away, in a nice way.

As I lay in bed and listened to N's halting recitation, corrected by S, I made dua in my heart,

"Oh Allah, please keep their purity and keep them away from bad influences and the path to the fire. Please make them among the saaliheen."

Now, I should make this dua,

"Oh Allah, please give me wisdom and insight that will brings us closer to You." Ameen.

You're Famous!

I'm discovering more and more that H is truly a very bubbly character that would benefit from some submerging at times. One day he was so chatty and jumpy that I actually told hubby to drag him along when he goes out to play soccer with the brothers.

I was frowning in front of the computer, with a stack of books piled up high on the table, writing up my writing-related Curriculum Vita. The frown accompanied the task, as I didn't have much to fill up my CV.

"Can you get me the ' _________' book, please?" I asked out loud.

I have only been published in two 'books' so far and I needed those very badly for CV purposes. One of these books is in my possession and the kids just love reading my pieces in it.

The book sat on the table for a while, and pretty soon, it caught H's attention.

"Wow! Ummi! You're famous!" he suddenly exclaimed.

"You're a famous pregnant woman!" he added exuberantly. It was as if he just found sunken treasure in the middle of the Atlantic.

"No, ummi's a famous pregnant author," N piped in, in her calm and controlled manner.

I let out a very amused chuckle. To be called an author by my daughter when I am not even one is just downright hilarious but cute nevertheless.

All the while, I thought to myself, "I hate to disappoint these kids."

"I'm not famous," I said, as H kept jumping in excitement at the 'realization'.

"Yes you are! You're in a book!" he replied.

I chuckled.

The next day, I asked him,

"I'm in this magazine too. Am I famous too?"

"You are?!" he exclaimed.

"Where? where?"

Both S and H rushed to me to look for my name.

"Yeah! You're famous!" said H, with a serious nod.

Oh boy, then an obituary would probably make me famous too, huh? (just as long as my name is displayed)

Switching Roles

"Aww that's so nice!" exclaimed the nurse as she opened the door and saw hubby and N helping me with my shoes.

Few weeks ago, we were getting ready to go out. My usual trouble: putting on my socks. Help!

S helped me. I didn't really feel it then.

Today, I had to clip my toenails, but I was having trouble.

"Need any help?" asked S. She was in the midst of cleaning her room. I relented. I never imagined what happened next would happen, at least not now.

S clipped my toenails. She's 9. I'm 30. My 9 year-old daughter clipped my toenails. I remember clipping her nails while she was sleeping when she was an infant.

Socks are next. Both of my daughters, aged 9 and 8, sat at my feet and slipped on my socks with a lot of difficulty.

As they were huffing and puffing with my socks, it took me a few minutes to be taken back to the time when I was the one huffing and puffing at their little feet!

A guffaw escaped me. They both looked at me, puzzled.

"When you were small, this was what I had to do every time I had to put on your socks or shoes. Now you're doing it for me. Mashaallah!" I explained.

May Allah preserve their innocence and purity and make them among the saaliheen. Ameen.

Where do I begin?

A lot has been going on lately.

I discovered that H's personality is way different than the girls' such that he needs to be around people, hence why he savors going to the masjid with hubby every day.

Hubby bought him and S new watches. I had to contend hearing him tell me the time every single minute.

Just today he said to me, "A.M said there are five qalqalahs, da, ba, qaf, ja and..." and he couldn't remember one more.

I was pretty impressed that he caught on that pretty quick.

Today I told them to count their money as we were transferring their money from their money boxes to empty jars.

I had trouble with N, who seemed quite confused by the one dollar stack of coins I told her to make. While H counted his, and S hers, I sat with N and guided her throughout the counting. On paper, she does pretty well, but when it came to the real thing, she was lost.

Alhamdulillah though, we are done with school. N just has Math and Science to deal with. H just has Science and S naturally has Science, History, Math, Literature and Writing to finish. She however is working independently alhamdulillah.

I had to go through a non stress test last week because I told the doc the baby's movement was decreasing.

S came in with me and stayed for the whole half hour.

"So should the baby's heartbeat be high or low when s/he moves?" I asked her as we both looked at the machine blinking the baby's heart rate and graphing it.

"High," she answered.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because it's like it's running."

Well, high it was, up to 170 something. All was good alhamdulillah but I don't think S is going to come and stay with me for the upcoming non stress tests I have to undergo every week from now. Half an hour seemed to be too long for her as she kept reading the time off her watch to me.

They've been leaving me home alone lately, claiming that they like to pray at the masjid than at home.

"When the baby's here inshaallah, are you still going to leave me?" I asked them.

"No," they chorused.

"I want to play with the baby."

"I want the baby to play soccer with me." Guess who said that one?

Well, we'll see. When the baby wakes them up at night, we'll see if they still want to stay home with me and the baby.

Time flies by so quickly. My firstborn is almost 10 and I'm having inshaallah my fifth. At the same time that I will probably be dealing with pre pubescent issues with S, I will also be dealing with infant, and toddlerhood issues with the baby if everything goes well inshaallah. What a way to look forward to my parenting milestones. Subhanallah.

Up the Walls

I have been eyeing the kitchen walls for a long time. Three pairs of grubby little hands have made their marks and I keep telling myself,

"I need to get that scrubbed soon," but of course I never did.

I frequently scrub down the fridge, washer, dryer, stove hood, and oven door but not the walls. To see something smudgy turn clean is truly therapeutic, so today I thought I would save myself some therapeutic exercise and pass it down to those grubby little hands.

"S, why don't you guys use that dish rag and scrub down the walls. You see here, where there are smudges and compare that to the area that is clean? I want it to be all like that. Can you guys do that? I'm going to take a nap."

S started, then H followed.

"Wow! Masyaallah! Look at that! It's clean! It's like before and after! Isn't it nice to see it turn clean?" I exclaimed, partly a natural surprised reaction and partly as an encouragement for them to keep doing it.

I shouldn't have worried for pretty soon after, all three of those pairs of grubby hands were scrubbing down the walls, heater, windows in the house! At one point they were actually fighting over who would scrub the windows.

Ahhh.....good little workers who have finished their school early today. What a reward for finishing school early.

Maybe by the time I wake up from my nap, the house will look like new.

"Ummi, can we do the beds?"

Well, they might be taking this a little too far. I hope they don't scrub me down while I'm napping.

Changes needed

It was a battle between mother and daughter, that's for sure. She had to change some stuff because the colors were not in great contrast such as it would impede reading. Here is the final product:



I have to admit. I think her green is more appealing than my white.

N's Seats of Scholars Flyer

N finally got the chance to do a flyer for Seats of Scholars. So far H has been hogging the flyer-making, so now it's her turn.

We've been moving along quite nicely with regards to OHVA alhamdulillah. I expect us to finish by March insyaallah.

H and N now read half a page of the mushaf in 5 minutes and the recitation is much much smoother, Masyaallah.

I had posted this post when N and S came back from the masjid with their Abi.

"Your flyer, N. Do you think it looks nice?" I asked her.

She shook her head.

"No, I don't like the red," she replied.

I never expected a negative response. Well she is one tough cookie to deal with when it comes to art. She has to have her way. Reminds me of someone else I know only too well. So I told her,

"Ok, just change the colors, don't move anything or change the size. I spent a long time fixing it."

She fiddled with it.

"How's that green, Ummi?" she asked me, after changing the Seats of Scholars font color to dark green.

"No,"I said.

She fiddled once more. Finally she's done. This is what she came up with. Looks like she managed to assert her green in there despite my protests. Oh, well I did tell myself I'd let her do the flyer this time. Quell that urge to fix it! Quell it!

A Piece of Cake!

S attended a cake decorating class every Tuesday for 6 weeks. For the last week, the teacher said she was supposed to bring a frosted cake to class and that they were going to decorate it with a Valentine theme.
S had told me, "We can make the cake on Sunday."

"Good idea," said hubby.

However, that weekend, she forgot to remind me and as for me, of course I don't remember. So came Tuesday, we had to do it last minute as I was busy trying to finish off the lessons for the day. When we did start baking, it was too late. She baked the cake herself mostly. The frosting didn't turn out good either. I made two batches and both ended up in the trash. It was a frustrating and tiring day for me and poor S, I finally told her,

"You're not going to the class since your cake is not even done yet."

She complied with no complaints. However, it was probably due to my snappy nature that day.

As I got over the frustration, I thought,

The wisdom behind it is, they were going to decorate the cake with a Valentine theme anyway.

When S told me they were going to do that, we knew what she was supposed to do: decorate it anyway she liked, but not with a Valentine theme. One thing I notice about S is, despite her being so quiet around other people, when it comes to the deen, she does speak up. Alhamdulillah. In her writing class, the teacher said that everyone will do something with a Christmas theme. S went up to the teacher and told her she doesn't celebrate Christmas. This coming from a girl who wouldn't speak otherwise.

So she didn't go to the class and it was the last class too. Nevertheless, I told her that the next day she and her siblings can decorate the cake on their own. That they did, and what a great job they did too, masyaallah! I was actually surprised how well S wrote with frosting (because from experience I know it takes quite a while to master) and even N and H wrote their own names on the cake. For first timers, they did pretty good, even better than some adults in fact. Alhamdulilah.

So, have a slice o' cake, will you?

A snapshot of the Days of Our Lives

Fajr:

• Wake S up for Fajr.
• S most times do Quran/memorization with hubby
  
• Breakfast
• 8:30 : school starts
• juggle between 3 kids - some major juggling here
  
• 12:30: lunch (if no food cooked, major pain - my menu planning has gone down the drain)
  

Zuhr

• S & N pray, not H.
• sometimes Quran with N, sometimes H too
• continue with school

Asr

• SNH pray.
• sometimes Quran with H, and a session on Luqman
• sometimes continue school
• sometimes rushing for the extrcurricular classes
• sometimes or most times have to cook

Maghrib

• SNH pray
• sometimes rush to masjid for their Quran classes
• H gets ready to go to masjid with hubby for Isya if there are no Quran classes after maghrib

Isya

• S&H pray
• come home from masjid
• sometimes if didn't have time to eat dinner before Maghrib, eat dinner after Isya
• sometimes do surah for N
• get ready for bed
• clean room

In my haste to finish their syllabus as soon as we can, I am no longer picking up the phone during the day(which I shouldn't be doing in the first place anyway). My whole day is spent sitting in front of the computer. It's hectic, hectic, hectic but insyaallah worth it. It gets especially hard because the days are short. It gets harder for me too as time progresses. The hardest part is the Quran, because one kid takes up so much time and patience that I'm usually drained of those by the time I have to move on to the other kid. For now, I am focusing on H. I have to do something about N. S alhamdulillah is with her father after Fajr. How will I cope post-baby?

Laa yukallifullahi nafsan illaa wus'ahaa.

May Allah make it easy. Ameen. Inna maal usri yusra. Inna maal usri yusra.

Improvements

Alhamdulillah I see improvements in the kids' Quran reading/recitation. When we first started out it took a painful half to one hour for N or H to finish reading half a page of the normal mushaf. It was really painful, especially with N's very soft voice. It was as if she was hoarding gold in there.

Her voice is still soft but at least her reading is a lot faster and smoother. Now it takes her about 10 minutes to read half a page, and H 5 minutes to read half a page.

As for her voice, I am forcing both her and S to recite louder, even to the point of tears, because mumbling really doesn't help. H on the other hand, has been transformed by AM. Hubby said AM has probably given up telling the girls to read louder. So it seems I have to take matters into my own hands if I want the girls' tarteel to improve. They need to recite louder. Here is where I can be a mean teacher.

Everyday, Surah Luqman is on H's To Do list. SOmetimes I only do review and sometimes I help him memorize a new ayat. That takes painfully long to do too; from half an hour to 45 minutes for one short ayah. Today, he is reduced to crying. I made sure he got it before letting him go, despite the crying, so he could feel a sense of accomplishment, rather than being let go when he couldn't do it, which in itself could send a wrong message or plant the wrong conditioning.

"You have one a half more page to finish the surah, H," I said to him.

I still remember him reciting a part of the ayah he was having trouble with in his sleep when he was (I think) doing Mutaffifeen. He was on the couch, working on it when he fell asleep. We were stil in the living room, going about our business when all of a sudden he recited the ayah he was having trouble with, but his eyes were still closed. It stopped me right in my tracks and for a while I thought he was awake, but he went on sleeping after that short recitation.

Now, he keeps reciting, "Inna shirka la zulmun adheem," as part of his daily self chatter.

What a character. Who would have thought this baby of mine whom we had dubbed 'German-speaking' due to his unintelligible babyish babble would recite the Quran so nicely now, even when he couldn't pronounce the American R. Alhamdulillah. I guess I don't care if he cannot ever pronounce the American R as long as he can recite Quran well.

May Allah preserve His Kalaam in this boy's heart. Ameen.

May both hubby and I be clothed with clothes of Jannah for raising a son/daughter/s hafidh. Ameen.

Washington

Washington

He played by the river when he was young.
He raced with rabbits along the hills,
He fished for minnows, and climbed and swung,
And hooted back at the whippoorwills.
Stronger and slender, and tall he grew--
And then, one morning, the bugles blew.

Over the hills the summons came,
Over the rivers shining rim.
He said that the bugle called his name,
He knew his country needed him,
And he answered, Coming! and marched away
For many a night and many a day.

Perhaps when the marches were hot and long
He'd think of the river flowing by
Or, camping under the winter sky,
Would hear the whippoorwills far-off song.
Working or playing, in peace or strife,
He loved America all his life!

Nancy Byrd Turner

This is the poem H had to read today for Language Arts. As usual, we did a little comprehension session after he finished reading it.

In his usual chattering mode, he answered my questions with a lot of gibberish in between the answers.

So when I asked him,

"What does the line Washington said about the bugles calling his name mean?"

He replied almost immediately with an exaggerated expression and a chipmunk-like voice,

"Washingtonnn! Washingtonnn!"

and then just as immediately as he responded with that little bit of entertainment for my listening pleasure, his eyes widened and a look of "Aha!" dawned on his face.

"Oh yeah! Calling him to war!"

I didn't expect him to come up with the answer, and was rather anticipating having to explain it to him, but the transition between him making it into a joke and actually arriving at the correct answer tickled me. I burst out laughing. It was contagious indeed and we both ended up laughing.

The jolly mood continued on as I asked more questions.

"How do you think the poet feels about Washington?"

"She likes him," he replied.

"What in the poem shows how the poet feels about Washington?"

He paused for a while. Then a glint of mischief crept into his eyes and I could see it coming from behind those dirty lenses of his glasses.

"She wrote a poem about him!" he exclaimed, proud to have come up with his own sassy response.

I couldn't help but burst out laughing again.

This Big Shake is truly something to contend with. With his blue overall, blue shirt and blue-rimmed glasses, he is anything but a carrier of the blues today, as he turns seven.

The Big Shake

Hubby has a meeting at the masjid once a week almost every week. Since H tags along, he's always running into the uncles. He came home one night and said to me,

"I calls me Big Sheikh, but because he's American he says Big Shake."

That truly cracked me up.

Then tonight, H and I had dinner, just the two of us, because the girls and hubby went to the masjid. We have started sending the girls to AM at the masjid for their tarteeel. We stopped dugsi because we didn't see any improvements in their tarteel, and like a big flashing neon sign, AM one night grabbed hubby and told him that he's starting a girls' Quran program next month (February). Hubby and I have been discussing about this and that just made our decision making easier alhamdulillah.

I am still impressed with how AM is able to give one-on-one attention to his students and correct their recitation. One living proof is H. I am still blown away by the improvement in his recitation.

Anyway, tonight, H told me, as we were eating,

"I now says sheikh, not shake anymore."

A chuckle escaped me.

"I told Sg about it," I said.

"She told him?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"When?"

"I don't know," I replied.

It tickles me how H seems to be enjoying his masjid trips with hubby. Alhamdulillah. When hubby has the meeting, hubby would be sure to have H bring a book to read.

One night I spied the book Blind Mountain turned upside down, page open on the couch.

"Who was reading this?" I asked.

"H," said hubby.

"He understands?" I asked, and unbelieving, I began to read the book.

The character is 12 years old and it is a story for middle graders.

The next day, I asked him if he liked the book.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because he made his dad blind from that branch."

It appears that the Big Shake understood the overall plot, but not the complete details.

Another Flyer Assignment

Another assignment for a flyer. Done by H, but not without my meddling, to the point that he said to me,

"If you want to change it, why don't you make it yourself?"

"If you change it then it's not mine anymore!"

"R's picky!" he said when I told him that the previous photo he put in there looked like a church according to R, who was the one who assigned him to the do the flyer in the first place.

I had to explain to him that when he is doing something for someone else, he has to accept criticism. Only then did I realize the differences between him and S, who was ready to accept any criticism from F when she did the Leadership Conference flyer.

H finally understood, or at least I think he did.

To compromise, when I moved things here and there and added stuff, I kept asking him,

"H, is this okay?"

"Where do you think I should put it?"

"How about this color?"

"What do you think?"

He managed to insist that the flags have poles, and that they should be placed where they are in the flyer. I complied. In the end, I have to admit, it does look really good. All this is helping me battle my own perfectionism, or is it?

Tasu'aa & Ashoora

"Do you know that Ashoora is coming up soon? Listen to this," I said, as I read to them the hadith that mentions the reward of fasting the day of Ashoora.

Three sets of eyes looked at me.

"Do you remember, we fasted this last year?"

"Oh yeaaahhh! I weemembeww," exclaimed H, eyes lit with enthusiasm.

"Do you want to fast?" I asked.

"Yes!" they chorused.

When Hubby came back, he told them about it and added,

"You don't have to fast, ok. This is not Ramadan, it's just extra."

"But we get rewarded, right?" asked N.

Hubby nodded.

For some reason, these kids love fasting. I even thought one reason might be that they hate drinking because I've never seen kids so enthusiastic to fast at every possible chance they can get. Alhamdulillah. I'm not complaining.

The night before they played in their newly bought tent (which H stumbled upon as we were in Marshall's, looking around.)

"Look! Ten dollars! Let's buy this!" he had said, eyes beaming with hope.

"If you guys don't sleep, we're not going to wake you up for suhoor!" hubby hollered.

They quitened down at that.

On Tasu'aa, they all fasted. It was a pretty hectic day because the girls had dugsi, and right after that both hubby and I had to attend the Hayl meeting, which meant that we had to drag the kids along.

Well, H came to me in the middle of the meeting and whispered,

"I'm so hungry, I'm dead!"

I told him to hold it off a little bit longer.

Minutes later, he came back to me and burst out crying. It took two people to offer him a donut from the donut box the sisters had brought.

However, N and S continued their fast and completed it.

The next day, Ashoora, both S & N fasted with hubby. H didn't however.

First days are always difficult.

The Bee

The awaited event: the OHVA Spelling Bee.

The Pee Wee Bee was first. N and H did an excellent performance of refusing to say their names in the microphone. To top it off, MOM had to come forward and convince N to budge from her book amidst the microphone wires and step forward in order to utter something. After about 5 -10 minutes of an attempt, which inluded a choice of not participating in the bee or speaking up, MOM had to walk back to her seat leaving stubborn N with tightly zipped lips standing firmly in her place.

H refused too, but at least after all the other kids had had their turn, he stepped forward and gave off his radiant smile, yet shook his head when asked to say his name and grade. The teacher had to do it for him. N was more insistent on being stubborn, hence why MOM was called forward to tend to the situation. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but one MOM will never forget.

"Especially, especially," said Ms. E.

"Especially. E. S. P. E. C. I," he paused.

I winced in my seat.

"L.L.Y. Especially," ended H.

"That is not correct," said Ms. E.

I guess for a first grader and first Bee, H did pretty good. He walked back to me with his wide grin.

Right while he was walking back towards me, N spelled her word,

"Necessary. N.E.S.E.S.S.A.R.Y. Necessary."

"That is not correct," said Ms. Ebie.

Like two dead flies, they were both dropped from that round. I have to give it to them though. They did pretty good.

Meanwhile, S was sitting next to me saying nothing. Apparently, she was nervous. I did warn her to not behave like N did. Alhamdulillah she didn't.

Break time. Snack time. Then the 4th to 8th graders turn to have their spelling bee.

Alhamdulillah, S said her name albeit a little too softly in the microphone. I sighed with relief.

The round started and went by pretty quickly. One by one participants were kicked out of the rounds as they misspelled their words. I held my breath, expecting S to misspell and drop out of the rounds, but she kept on going until there was only three people left. Could she be champion again? There was an 8th grader, a very tall African American boy, and a cute smiling 4th grader along with her. She was the only girl left.

I kept telling myself, Were I that 8th grader, I would fight to death to be champion, because to do otherwise would be to admit defeat to the younger kids. Nevertheless, S seemed to be doing a very good job that I had that sliver of hope that she would be champion.

"Saxophone. Saxophone," said Ms. E.

"Saxophone. S.A.X.......A.P.H.O.N.E. Saxophone," said S.

Oh....that was it. I snapped her photo as she walked back towards me.

Alhamdulillah, all three kids did a marvelous job today. I was actually pleasantly surprised S stayed on until the last three, defeating the 5th, 6th and 7th graders. Masyaallah!

And now, I think I will take my nap as I have the house to myself while they all went to the recreational center for basketball pratice and pottery class. Ahh...no screaming children to contend with today. Bliss!

H's writing

Rain Poem

I hate rain
Rain is really a pain
It loves to make people mad
Totally not rad


Personal Narrative
I like soccer. I like it because I like kicking goals. I like to fake too. SWISH!!

Meddling Husband & Tied Up

Assalamualaikum,

I just want to apologize for the previous post that I just deleted. My meddling husband actually posted that as a joke and I never got around to deleting it. I'm kind of tied up right now with a lot of stuff especially the upcoming Leadership Conference, which S did the binder cover for also.

After that I'm going to be busy with Seats of Scholars and some halaqa presentations. The kids' spelling bee is coming up, and we are right now contemplating whethere the girls should contiue going to the dugsi or not.

The thing is, it seems that they are mainly doing memorization and reading and writing Arabic (without being told what it means). H on the other hand is improving a lot under the tutelage of the masjid's Imam alhamdulillah. Hubby was thinking of stopping sending the girls to dugsi and sending them to H's teacher instead. It's closer too. We'll see. The way the girls are memorizing right now, it is the same as us doing it at home by ourselves.

Other than that we are also speeding up the rate at which we are learning the lessons that need to be done before the baby comes insyaallah.

Now, everyday, I make their To Do list on a portable white board, which they will use as a guide. Once they are done with each item, they will erase it. This way I make sure they do what they're supposed to do without having to remind them everytime. Time and voice saver, though not totally a voice saver because I find myself having to tell them to finish off their To Do list for the day. The word chore is also included as one of the items on their To Do list.

So basically, everyday now, they have to cross off items on their To Do list while also crossing off things on their chore chart. As for me, I'm doing way too many juggling especially with the conference coming up, and after this Seats of Scholars. Nevertheless it's all good alhamdulillah. May the baby be born with excellent work ethics insyaallah. Ameen.

S's note binder cover for the Leadership Conference. She figured out that the picture can be flipped.

I Hate Writing! ~S~

Today's poem from her literature exercise based on Ogden Nash's poem, Adventures of Isabel:

Isabel met a talking fish
It talked so much, that she made a wish
His scales glimmered
And his eyes shimmered
Then he took a nap
And woke up with a snap
Isabel, Isabel didn't worry
Isabel didn't scream or scurry
She whispered and talked until May
And the fish just simply walked away

The day before, a poem on Roses on a lesson on imagery:

Roses

Red like a shiny red balloon
smelling sweeter than sugar
feeling softer than cotton
And thornier than swords
Ouch!

Another one written maybe months ago, grudgingly though, as you can very well see once you read it:

ALL BECAUSE OF LITERATURE

The room is so still you could hear a pin drop
The room is cold and windy
Paper feels like cement
My hand is swelling like a balloon
My head is throbbing so hard you can see it move
All because of literature

I had a good laugh reading it. She had meant it as a silent protest, as she claims to hate writing and was so sullen when I told her to write a poem using the power of the five senses. After she handed this poem in, I laughed and said,

"Masyaallah! This is a great poem! You really conveyed how you felt!"

Her sulk and frown turned to a shy smile with a look that asked, "Really?"

She really did. She claims she hates writing. I can't fathom this. Is it because I keep telling her to? She recently also received an A+ and VERY GOOD from her writing teacher when not many other students received an A. She didn't seem too happy about it to me, though she might have been hiding it well. I hope it's something where you hate something just because you're told to do it, but when left to your own vices, you'll actually embrace it willingly. Oh well, never mind. She just said,

"I hate writing reports, essays and stuff, not stories and poems."

H constantly announces that he hates math, when he actually excels in it. I think S excels in writing too. Teaching H math is quite a breeze for now masyaallah, because his grasp on the concepts is pretty immediate, unlike N, who needs more patience and repetition. N never claims to hate anything, so far, not yet anyway, and she patiently does her work despite being very slow about it. Hmm...

Picking on H

Hubby loves to pick on the kids, but especially H.

"H, your bus!" he would yell as the familiar beep hails from outside.

"It's not my bus!" H would retort, jugular veins taut and ready to burst.

It's the yellow garbage truck of course.

"Are you guys farting?" hubby would holler whenever we hear the kids starting to raise their voices with each other, or sharp slaps and cries of "Ouch!" and "Owwwww!" travel to our auditory territories.

"No!" they would sometimes answer.

Of course, in hubby lingo, farting means fighting, I think intended to make the kids stop fighting and laugh instead.

"H, please don't fart this early in the morning," hubby would say if they start quarreling during breakfast.

H used to take these teasings badly, stomping and crying, but he has been seasoned by it, I think. Now, H simply grins and retorts back with his own 'lingo', that never fails to make me chuckle or shake my head. Together, hubby and H are the house clowns.

I just hope the baby won't start gurgling and laughing at the sound of the word "fart."

Written in Stone: Tips on memorizing the Qurân

This article is meant those who have taken their first steps, not those who are still waiting for motivation. It is dedicated to all our young brothers and sisters in Qu’ran Hifdh schools (and all the wanna bes J). In sha Allah, I will discuss how you can become more effective in your memorization of the Qur’an. Let me ask this question, “Who wants to memorize the Qur’an?” No doubt, the hands initially will rise slowly, but then almost everyone should have their hand raised. But, most truthfully, is that desire a sincere, heartfelt desire? If it was, then action would follow. If I said, “Who wants to lose weight?” Most people would raise their hands and upon being asked would mention the steps they are taking to achieve their goal. What steps are we taking to memorize the Qur’an if indeed our intentions are passionate?

The Safari

This boy's imagination sometimes troubles me. From the stories of Yusuf, and seerah he seems to take away the gory part of it and concoct his own 'killing' stories. This was submitted to the contest too along with S's and N's, but didn't win. They all just received certificates.

The Girl Who Didn't Like Spinach

Hmm, I wonder why S concocted this story. Battles over her eating her greens sparked this, maybe?

I sent this one to the Reading Rainbow contest too but it didn't win.

Flyer Activities

As usual, I had H made our next Seats of Scholars flyer. Of course I had to do some finishing touches, but this is way better than having them do mock flyers for school projects or anything of the like.


He did make another one but we had to choose one. This is the unfinished version. He was adamant that techniques is actually spelled techquneics.

Oh and by the way, for those of you who do read this post, you are very much invited to join us for our next Seats of Scholars. It's 7 am Est US time, which is 8 pm Malaysian time.

Chore Chart

I spent quite some time making the kids' chore chart. I was up to my neck in the mess their room kept falling back to and it was literally driving me insane. Plus, I was and am worried that they will grow up to be sloppy people, nauzubillah. It was time to lay down some very strict rules, which I should have done ages ago, yet my own lack of will power and discipline hindered that.




At first it took me such a long time to come up with this table, even after browsing the net for ideas. Then, I looked back to my meager experience with Flylady and listed the chores that need to be done and that can be realistically done by the kids. After that, it was easier to come up with this table. The next hurdle was figuring out the method of putting up the chart. Do I print this weekly? Do I spend some money on buying a whit-board type chore chart? The idea is to have them mark off each chore as they do it each day and if I print the chart, I would have to do it weekly or have extra charts to be put up each week. We don't even have a working printer at home since hubby refused to buy the cartridge because it's too costly, so I racked my brains trying to come up with a more economical way to do this.

We went to Target and I did find a cute chore chart especially for kids. It was made exactly like the one I concocted. Surprise! Surprise! I asked hubby if we could buy it, or print the sheets every week. He opted for the former, as I guess, he would be the one printing those sheets at his office. Saved by the lack of cartridge? Hmm..maybe. Anyway, I got the chore chart.

How it works is that for every chore done, each child will put a magnetic star (according to his/her color) on the box corresponding to the chore for that particular day. We have been doing it for about 3 weeks now (they say it takes 21 days to form a habit) and alhamdulillah, so far it has been working. H especially would start his morning standing at my door looking at the chore chart.

"Trained like a soldier," said hubby.

As for me, instead of yelling, "Put the clean spoons away!" or "Somebody please dust the stairs!", I only need to say, "Done your chores yet?"

and they scamper off to do them. At least for now. I hope this lasts, I PRAY this lasts. Ameen. I NEED this to last.

Nevertheless, I noticed the chore 'sweep kitchen floor'was smudged and erased by a mischievous finger one day as I was checking the chart. They had complained about the difficulty of sweeping the floor into our stubborn dustpan. For now, I am ignoring the complaints, until I find a better solution. The idea is to get these kids to be responsible and carry their own weight around the house, of course, on top of cutting down some housework for moi.

"Why do I need to clean the sink? It's already clean!" complained one little smart mouth in the beginning.

"Well, would you rather be scrubbing a dirty sink or a clean one?" I asked in return.

"A clean one," the mouth replied.

S was the first to comprehend the hikmah of consistently cleaning a 'clean' something so it will stay clean, rather than waiting for it to look dirty before rushing to rescue it from dirt and grime. I have heard no more complaints so far regarding cleaning a clean mirror or bathtub.

Flylady taught me that to have a house that cleans itself, you have to clean it before it gets dirty. My constant obsession is the toilet bowl. I have never been able to tolerate cleaning bathrooms growing up, though I have cleaned worse toilets at boarding school. Solution: clean it before it looks vomit-inducing.

Coupled with decluttering, the house looks more presentable now and my mind is at peace alhamdulillah. You never realize how much a clean house really does clear your mind and boost your mood, until your house is clean, and when I say clean, I mean it's also clean under the rugs. I can tolerate untidiness, but I can't tolerate grimy kitchens or moldy bathrooms. I began to develop a habit of scrutinizing people's bathroom years ago, after I discovered how difficult it was to keep a clean bathroom, especially tiled walls. I actually rendered our shower walls in need or replacement before we moved out of our apartment in Ames, due to overscrubbing, with knives!
It was only quite recently that I discovered the wonderful tip of baking soda and clorox on bathroom mildew and mold. Amazing! Though I could have done away with the smell of clorox. No scrubbing needed. Just apply the paste of baking soda and clorox to the mildew, wait a few minutes (or hours, depending in how bad it is) and voila! You have yourself a mildew-free
bathroom.

Yes, for now, this is my daily obsession. I figured I might as well do everything now before I get too big to walk around the house telling the kids to pick things up.

So, chore chart: you are my sunshine, my lovely sunshine, you make me happy, throughout the day!

Homemade Stories

I couldn't help but adore this story. Masters of Paint, the kids spend some of their waking time doodling on it, sometimes to the chagrin of their parents, especially when the hard drive is almost filled to capacity with their files.

N composed this story quite a while ago. I submitted it to the Reading Rainbow Story Contest, but it didn't win. However, the illustrations really caught me (though I would love for the kids to stay away from drawing animate beings in the future) by surprise. I recently put the individual image files into a Powerpoint presentation, complete with sound effects. It was fantastic! I also taught the girls how to make a Powerpoint presentation (one more thing to occupy their time with the lack of TV). N also composed some other chapters, or should I say, series of Fatty the Big Bug. Seems like their avid reading has led to some creative sparks of their own. H is not too patient to carve out his stories on Paint, but he uses a lot of paper for his stories. I'm thinking that I should probably start collecting those and bind them for long term archiving. S is still secretive with regards to her writing, but when she does let me in on what she writes, I am always blown away. Masyaallah! Alhamdulillah.