Tuesday, October 28, 2008
i'm back at work on Saturday....: )
. . .couldn't help it. They're short on teachers & I couldn't say no. Pray for me.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
To working-out-in-the-real-world mothers everywhere
In the name of God, Most Merciful, Most Kind,
* * *
How do you do it?
For one brief day, nay - for a couple of hours, I joined the countless mothers who balance work, home and family on top of their heads, hips or fingertips and I came home absolutely drained.
Okay, perhaps it had to do with the nature of my stint. A junior kindergarten teacher's assistant on the second day of school. Sounds easy enough, but let me (finger) paint the picture for you:
"Waaaaah!!!!!!!"
"He cries and cries like that and then he throws up!"
"I want my baba, I want my baba, I want my baba!"
"Okay kids let's colour -- oh, you don't understand English -- uh....."
Whimper, whimper.
"Bathroom, please."
"Oh, he's throwing up. Call the dada!"
"Tell the mothers to stop looking into the windows!"
"Mama, I want to go home, it's too noisy."
"We only have an hour longer. Should we play a CD?"
"The CD player says it's on but nothing is happening. . .what about the blocks?"
"Waah, I want the blocks!!!!" "No I want the blocks!"
Of course, to complicate matters, I had my youngest with me at the time, a two-year-old in the midst of a class of four-year-olds (though I suspect a few of them were actually manipulative ceo's in disguise), and she wasn't all that impressed that mom was running around calming child after child like a firefighter dousing flames that keeps leaping from house to house.
By the time I stumbled into our deliciously quiet apartment, my kids were pooped, I was pooped, and all I could think of was -- sleep. My husband was gleeful.
"Now you know! Now you know! Work sucks the life right out of you."
Yeah, yeah, okay, okay. Work is hard. VERY HARD - especially with children who need you in tip-top shape for the rest of the day. Thankfully, I had my sleep, but if I hadn't.......
And so I am brought back to women's studies class, first-year university, where there was only ONE student who had the guts to admit she WANTED to be a housewife. We all stared at her, mystified that anyone with choices would choose that one.
But oh, how wise she was. Isn't it better to be a full-time mom, able to chill out when the tension gets too thick and everyone's fighting over the one drawing board in the house and you just don't want to give in and buy another because how-oh-how-will-they-ever-learn-to-share? Pop in a video and escape with a cookie in the kitchen and forget all about their cares. . .
For a mom whose scrambling to get home on time to get dinner ready, homework done, kids bathed and dressed and ready for bed --- not to mention getting that quality time in somewhere - the thought of a cookie in the kitchen all by herself may seem awfully optimistic.
And yet, because of my upbringing (mentioned a few posts back), I still find myself harkening to the world of work - struggling to remain at home base where life is so much less stressful but somehow less satisfying. It seems I've got nothing to show for my day -- "what do you do all day, anyway?" Sigh. How to change society's view of the ever-important role of 'mom'.
Oh, working mothers of the world - I salute you. I admire you. I pray for you. But I surely do not want to join you - at least if I can help it.
* * *
How do you do it?
For one brief day, nay - for a couple of hours, I joined the countless mothers who balance work, home and family on top of their heads, hips or fingertips and I came home absolutely drained.
Okay, perhaps it had to do with the nature of my stint. A junior kindergarten teacher's assistant on the second day of school. Sounds easy enough, but let me (finger) paint the picture for you:
"Waaaaah!!!!!!!"
"He cries and cries like that and then he throws up!"
"I want my baba, I want my baba, I want my baba!"
"Okay kids let's colour -- oh, you don't understand English -- uh....."
Whimper, whimper.
"Bathroom, please."
"Oh, he's throwing up. Call the dada!"
"Tell the mothers to stop looking into the windows!"
"Mama, I want to go home, it's too noisy."
"We only have an hour longer. Should we play a CD?"
"The CD player says it's on but nothing is happening. . .what about the blocks?"
"Waah, I want the blocks!!!!" "No I want the blocks!"
Of course, to complicate matters, I had my youngest with me at the time, a two-year-old in the midst of a class of four-year-olds (though I suspect a few of them were actually manipulative ceo's in disguise), and she wasn't all that impressed that mom was running around calming child after child like a firefighter dousing flames that keeps leaping from house to house.
By the time I stumbled into our deliciously quiet apartment, my kids were pooped, I was pooped, and all I could think of was -- sleep. My husband was gleeful.
"Now you know! Now you know! Work sucks the life right out of you."
Yeah, yeah, okay, okay. Work is hard. VERY HARD - especially with children who need you in tip-top shape for the rest of the day. Thankfully, I had my sleep, but if I hadn't.......
And so I am brought back to women's studies class, first-year university, where there was only ONE student who had the guts to admit she WANTED to be a housewife. We all stared at her, mystified that anyone with choices would choose that one.
But oh, how wise she was. Isn't it better to be a full-time mom, able to chill out when the tension gets too thick and everyone's fighting over the one drawing board in the house and you just don't want to give in and buy another because how-oh-how-will-they-ever-learn-to-share? Pop in a video and escape with a cookie in the kitchen and forget all about their cares. . .
For a mom whose scrambling to get home on time to get dinner ready, homework done, kids bathed and dressed and ready for bed --- not to mention getting that quality time in somewhere - the thought of a cookie in the kitchen all by herself may seem awfully optimistic.
And yet, because of my upbringing (mentioned a few posts back), I still find myself harkening to the world of work - struggling to remain at home base where life is so much less stressful but somehow less satisfying. It seems I've got nothing to show for my day -- "what do you do all day, anyway?" Sigh. How to change society's view of the ever-important role of 'mom'.
Oh, working mothers of the world - I salute you. I admire you. I pray for you. But I surely do not want to join you - at least if I can help it.
Monday, October 13, 2008
What my five-year-old has taught me (so far)
In the name of God, Most Merciful, Most Kind,
* * *
In a few days, my eldest daughter will clasp my hand, and we'll head into the bright space that is her new school.
A whole world of learning unfolds before her. Or should I say 'us'. Already, I've been amazed at all the little one has taught me, including knowledge rooted in prophetic tradition, though she doesn't even realize it:
1- Give people the benefit of the doubt.
"Maybe they just didn't know," suggests my daughter, as she tilts her head to one side, eyes wide. We could be talking about anything - the garbage strewn on the street, the bad driving all 'round, the images of scantily clad moms in my parenting magazines. She'll find an excuse for one and all, reminding me of my own faults on this one, especially considering this lovely saying from Prophet Muhammad, may peace be upon him:
“If you hear about your brother something of which you disapprove, seek from one to seventy excuses for him. If you cannot find any, convince yourselves that it is an excuse you do not know.”Narration reported by al-Bayhaqî.
2- Be patient with li'l ones.
When the youngest of my two wants to change outfits for the fourth time in a few hours, it is my eldest who guides her back to her room to choose the clothing. She finds a way to put up with her persistent fashion needs, and I have to swallow my frustration. "Mom, she is just a baby," she says of her two-year-old sibling. Yes, sort of.
The Prophet said: 'He is not one of us who does not show mercy to our little ones and respect to our elders.' Reported in At-Tirmidhî.
3- Housework is fun.
Okay, I doubt I'll ever internalize this one, but you've got to admit, soaping up dishes isn't all bad if you really lather it up. "Mom, look how shiny this is," she'll say after spending five minutes soaping up a teaspoon. Ahh, to be young and without a care in the world. Why she wants to scrub the toilet, though, is beyond me.
"Cleanliness is half of faith," said the Prophet, according to an authentic narration.
Yeah, I know. It's the bubbles.
* * *
Speaking of learning, I was surprised to hear a recorded announcement running over the loudspeakers at our local grocery store encouraging parents to read to their kids. After complaining about the lack of commitment to reading in the Arab/ Muslim world a few posts back, I have to admit that I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. And I'm scheduled to visit a library one of these days with a lady who's actually been inside one here. Can't wait!
* * *
In a few days, my eldest daughter will clasp my hand, and we'll head into the bright space that is her new school.
A whole world of learning unfolds before her. Or should I say 'us'. Already, I've been amazed at all the little one has taught me, including knowledge rooted in prophetic tradition, though she doesn't even realize it:
1- Give people the benefit of the doubt.
"Maybe they just didn't know," suggests my daughter, as she tilts her head to one side, eyes wide. We could be talking about anything - the garbage strewn on the street, the bad driving all 'round, the images of scantily clad moms in my parenting magazines. She'll find an excuse for one and all, reminding me of my own faults on this one, especially considering this lovely saying from Prophet Muhammad, may peace be upon him:
“If you hear about your brother something of which you disapprove, seek from one to seventy excuses for him. If you cannot find any, convince yourselves that it is an excuse you do not know.”Narration reported by al-Bayhaqî.
2- Be patient with li'l ones.
When the youngest of my two wants to change outfits for the fourth time in a few hours, it is my eldest who guides her back to her room to choose the clothing. She finds a way to put up with her persistent fashion needs, and I have to swallow my frustration. "Mom, she is just a baby," she says of her two-year-old sibling. Yes, sort of.
The Prophet said: 'He is not one of us who does not show mercy to our little ones and respect to our elders.' Reported in At-Tirmidhî.
3- Housework is fun.
Okay, I doubt I'll ever internalize this one, but you've got to admit, soaping up dishes isn't all bad if you really lather it up. "Mom, look how shiny this is," she'll say after spending five minutes soaping up a teaspoon. Ahh, to be young and without a care in the world. Why she wants to scrub the toilet, though, is beyond me.
"Cleanliness is half of faith," said the Prophet, according to an authentic narration.
Yeah, I know. It's the bubbles.
* * *
Speaking of learning, I was surprised to hear a recorded announcement running over the loudspeakers at our local grocery store encouraging parents to read to their kids. After complaining about the lack of commitment to reading in the Arab/ Muslim world a few posts back, I have to admit that I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. And I'm scheduled to visit a library one of these days with a lady who's actually been inside one here. Can't wait!
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