Wednesday, 21 March 2012

My sincere prayer for this morning- please give me a day of smiles and cuteness; and not tirades and hissy-fits

A few months ago, you might remember my struggle with two year old Aisha's tantrums. They terrified me. Then, as suddenly as they'd appeared, they stopped. Foolishly, I did not take a moment to appreciate the respite - I just took it for granted.

For another few months she was an absolute delight. On so many occasions I remembered wishing that I could freeze the moment - or at least remember how cute she was being, the hilarious comments she passed in her delightful innocence or the adorable expressions on her face. Priceless; never-to-be-repeated moments. Oh, it was a wonderful time - but sadly, I remember very few of its details.

I don't know why I did not think to record these important little details - the way I had recorded the details of her tantrums which had gone before. I guess that's the price I'm paying for not taking the time to smell the roses.

Yes, our tantrums are back - with a vengence. I'm on egg-shells all the time. I'm not sure if it has something to do with the fact that she may be teething - her last four molars seem to be ready to make their appearance. But it could take months.

But last night she delighted us with a glimpse into her delightful nature for a few minutes - dancing to the tunes of her sisters' High School Musical DVD. It reminded me of how, in those glorious months not too long ago, she used to shuffle to the ''Party Rock Anthem''. (I might upload a video I took of her and her sisters - once I replenish my rapidly diminishing data bundle at the end of  the month). It was so cute and hilarious.

I remember how she had certain 'phrases' or sentences which she had just enjoyed saying. I know she knew the meaning thereof, because I had heard her use them in context before, but it was as if she just awoke one morning and decided that she'd insert them into every conversation - whether applicable and relevant, or not. I later realised that she was imitating all her older siblings' lines and mannerisms.

So our conversations had become really bizarre.

Me: Aisha, would you like some toast or porridge?

Aisha: I know!! (rolling her eyes with mock exasperation)

Me: Huh?


Me: Aisha, what are you watching?

Aisha: I caaan't! I don't know hoooow! (throwing up her hands in fake frustration)

Ookay then.


Me: Oh, I'm so hungry.

Aisha: But whyyyyy?! Whyyyy?! (gesturing dramatically)

But although her conversations often left me confused, sometimes they warmed my heart - as what she said was very appropriate. She and my mum were lazing on a rock at our usual river spot one day, when she took my mum's face in her hands and said, ''So cuuuuute!!!''

Another time I was ranting and raving while looking for the TV remote.
''Why do you guys have to play with the remote? Can't you just leave it on one spot? Why do I have to look for it EVERY SINGLE TIME I want to change the channel. (Which incidentally I could have done ten times as I was walking past the TV to look for the remote). But annoyance replaced reason, as I moaned and groaned; ranted and raved.
''This is ridiculous! This happens every time!!''
Just then Aisha sighed a loud dramatic sigh, '' Mommy, but I yuv you!''
Thereby placing my stupid tantrum in context by showing me what really counts.

Not too long ago it was Mo's turn. The kids had been bickering more than usual and it was clearly working on his last nerve. So as an argument ensued at the table (probably about whether Tharaa had secretly dropped her broccoli into Shakeel's plate), Mo just snapped.
''This is ridiculous! If you keep this up, I shall !"£$% each one of you. I'm getting sick of this ^&*(''

His eyes bulged as he yelled and screamed. Everyone looked down at their half-eaten food - afraid to make eye contact with him. He continued for a few minutes; threatening and venting.
When Aisha shook her head and giggled, ''Daddy, you cwazy'' - thereby echoing the thoughts of everyone at the table. Everyone (including crazy daddy) burst into fits of laughter.
What would we do without our disarming little darling?

So, as I wait for her to awaken this morning, I say a silent prayer that her mood will be pleasant. I have already put in my contact lenses, since the first thing that sets her off in the mornings is seeing me with my (rather ugly) spectacles.
''  'Pecs off!'' she'll yell angrily.
I have also brushed my hair and let it hang down over my shoulders. Many a tantrum has started because of my annoying tendency to twist my hair into a bun or tuck it down the back of my pyjama top (to keep it out of my way).

So I eliminate all potential annoyances ('pecs off - check; hair hanging down - check) and start my silent prayer that she'll wake up happy, and hopefully  return to being the little angel she was a few months ago - I promise to savour each second this time around.

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