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...