I have had a really difficult 36 hours. On Sunday afternoon, without much fore-thought or planning, I decided to wean Aisha.
I know that this is way past due - she is already 2 years and four months old and breastfeeding at this age seems to be unacceptable. Initially, my main concern was our religious ruling on breastfeeding children beyond the age of two, but we were reassured by our Imam that it was perfectly acceptable to breastfeed beyond this age (obviously within reason).
So I relaxed, and continued to enjoy bonding with Aisha this way. She absolutely loves her boobies, using them mainly for comfort and not really for nutrition at this point. Many a tantrum has been averted simply by flashing them - it is incredible to watch how her face changes from outrage and frustration to sheer happiness within seconds. I love watching her face as she breastfeeds - the contentment and joy warms my heart. Recently, when she catches me watching her face intently while she's breastfeeding, she will give me a thumbs-up signal. Really funny and cute.
Recently she fell off a high fold up chair, as it crashed to the ground. Her forehead hit the ground, as she had fallen head-first. The shock of the fall had her in a state of hysteria. It was absolutely amazing how she calmed down instantly after she'd lifted my top to seek comfort from her boobies. After a few minutes the violent sobbing was replaced by gentle peaceful breathing.
I didn't breastfeed this long with my other three kids. There had not been a need for a weaning process, since all of them had just naturally moved on to the bottle. If anyone had told me that such emotional turmoil would be the result of weaning this one, I might have stopped sooner.
A while back I started to do a blog post on the sadness I was feeling about the prospect of weaning her. I researched other such cases on the internet, but did not find anyone who was suffering to the extent that I was. I felt alone and weird - and like a weakling. But I could not finish the post, as it became too painful. I kept bursting into tears.
I feared the prospect of weaning her. I knew that the sadness would escalate into full-blown grief. Nobody could relate. Other mommies who had weaned kids, who were born more or less around the time Aisha was, laughed when I told them how sad I was feeling. (In their defence, their laughter was not mocking - they were merely responding to the jovial joking tone in which I mocked my own silliness- in the hopes that someone would say they understood and that they were feeling the same).
My sadness can be attributed to the fact that it feels as if the bond between us will break. Our relationship will change - she will need me less. But more importantly - much more importantly - I'm heartbroken about the fact that I will not be able to provide her with the comfort I used to. I feel as if I will be robbing her of something which gives her so much joy, contentment and solace. Since she does not take the dummy/pacifier or bottle, there is no substitute which I can offer her.
I chatted to moms about how they had gone about the weaning process. I got advice which ranged from applying Mercurochrome to the nipples (to resemble blood), chocolate (to resemble poo) and bitter aloe (which apparently tastes so vile that the horror and disgust is said to linger long after the child has tasted it). Most moms recommended the bitter aloe, swearing by its effectiveness. But when I raised the topic with our family doctor, she reiterated what I'd thought - this method was cruel. She suggested that I explain to Aisha that she was hurting my boobies and try to get her to see the reason behind the decision to wean. I knew that there was no way that would work.
But I tried it - I told Aisha that she was hurting me, which upset her, making her cling to me even more.
A few weeks ago I, once again, found myself around other mums who had weaned. My embarrassed admission that I had still not weaned was met with shock, surprise and the usual advice. As usual, nobody could understand what the big deal was, making me feel really alone - and annoyed at myself.
On Sunday afternoon, without prior warning and very much on the spur of the moment, I decided to apply some bitter aloe to my nipples. My heart broke as I did it. Very dramatically, I kissed and hugged Aisha just before I did it - it truly felt as if I was saying good-bye to her (or at least to my breastfeeding baby). I had a lump in my throat the entire time.
I called her over and offered her her boobies, which she willingly took. Nothing could have prepared me for her reaction when she tasted it. She looked shocked, she panicked and then gagged. She started to rub her tongue with her sleeve, desperate to get the taste out of her mouth. I panicked - what the hell had I done??? I was such an idiot! A cruel stupid people-pleasing idiot!!! How could I have done this to my baby? And why? Simply because I was feeling the pressure from other people. I hated myself - I truly hated myself. I still do.
I quickly applied toothpaste to her tongue. Eventually she calmed down - but she was clearly affected by the experience. She kept repeating to her older siblings ''Kakka (Yucky) boobies'' and pointing at me. She was uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the night.
During the middle of the night, she awoke as usual for her boobies. Unaware that the taste could not simply be wiped away, I offered them to her. She started to cry - for about an hour. It was not her usual middle-of-the night tantrum. She was crying bitterly. She was angry. She sat up and started to suck on her hand. Then I started to cry. I sobbed and sobbed, feeling helpless and full of regret. I could not console my baby at all. She pushed me away when I came near her, whimpering, ''Kakka boobies, kakka mommy''. I reached out to touch her, but she pushed my hand away, saying, ''Kakka mommy's hand''. I was heartbroken, but I deserved it.
Mo brought me a facecloth to attempt to remove the taste once again. I rubbed and rubbed until my nipples were raw. Then he gave me some golden syrup to rub on my nipples - in an attempt to undo the damage I had done with the aloe. Hesitantly I did so ( I realised that the harm done by a bit of sugar did not outweigh the harm that I had already done to the child). I offered her her sweetened boobies, but she pushed me away. She eyed me suspiciously, crying all the time. I wept along with her.
I told her that her boobies were tasting better now - I put a tiny bit of the syrup on her lip to illustrate what they tasted like now. She swiped my hand away. After another fifteen minutes of crying, I picked her up and quickly put the sweetened boobie in her mouth. She did not resist (I'm not sure if it was from exhaustion).
Although she has been back in her tantrum phase for about two months, she had always been pleasant, funny and lovable in between her tantrums (of which there would be about two or three a day - which includes her middle-of-the-night tantrum).
Yesterday was a complete nightmare. Although she took her boobies the morning, she kept talking about the kakka/yucky boobie experience. She was quiet, angry and aggressive all day. The number of tantrums were too numerous to count. She was particularly aggressive toward me, which was strange since I'm usually the one who comforts her and calms her down. I felt depressed, powerless. I missed my happy baby. I felt as if I had broken her.
Last night's middle of the night tantrum was particularly bad. She did not want boobies in bed (which is VERY VERY UNUSUAL). She wanted to fall asleep with her head on my shoulder, which under any other circumstances, would have made me so happy - but this was because she still did not trust that I would not give her yucky boobies again. She fell asleep on my shoulder after screaming for more than an hour.
She awoke again at about 06:00, insisting that I apply 'medicine' to my boobies - she was referring to the golden syrup which had fixed them when they were kakka/yucky. I complied with her request and asked if she wanted her boobies. She didn't - she had simply wanted to ensure that her boobies were no longer yucky.
This post has been written over a half-a day (due to lack of time to sit and write it in one go), and at this moment I am feeling so much relief. She has just awoken - happy. However, being the idiot I am, I forgot that I had applied the golden syrup at 06:00 am, so when I offered her the boobies, she shrank back with panic at their unusual (albeit pleasant) taste. But, it doesn't matter - for now she's smiling again. I hope and pray that she remains happy for the rest of the day.
Which still leaves me with the problem of a possible weaning method. But I shall worry about that another time - right now I'm just happy that she's happy.
(If anyone has suggestions regarding methods of weaning, please feel free to share it. I will really appreciate it)
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
Sunday, 1 April 2012
Tharaa powers up to become Super-saiyan
Since he was a toddler, soon-to-be 13 year old Shakeel has been obsessed with the Japanese cartoon series Dragon ball Z. As a result, his adoring and admiring sisters now share his passion.
Here is an example of Gohan powering up to become Super-saiyan (which will enhance his strength and power considerably).
I was really impressed when 10 year old Tharaa captured a pic of herself becoming a Super-saiyan (using the Playstation controller).
I tried to capture the same event with my little camera.
Granted, my efforts were far less impressive than those of my multi-talented super-saiyan's.
Here is an example of Gohan powering up to become Super-saiyan (which will enhance his strength and power considerably).
 |
| Image obtained from http://www.giantbomb.com/gohan/94-443/ |
I was really impressed when 10 year old Tharaa captured a pic of herself becoming a Super-saiyan (using the Playstation controller).
I tried to capture the same event with my little camera.
Granted, my efforts were far less impressive than those of my multi-talented super-saiyan's.
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
A self-sacrificing mommy and a disastrous night at Millers Point
This weekend past was spent marking Shakeel's entry into adolescence. Although his thirteenth birthday is still more than two weeks away, he insisted that he wanted to celebrate it during the school holidays.
So after months of him begging and pleading, I agreed to a boys' camp away from home. His dad was secretly ecstatic - he had wanted to go camping for ages, but this had never come to pass, since I was always reluctant to stay in a tent with two-year old Aisha - since not even the brick walls of a building are enough to silence the shrieks this child emits during her hour-long tantrums. I knew that we'd be evicted from any camp site after just one night.
So Mo, while pretending to resign himself to the awful duty of going camping with Shakeel and some of Shakeel's friends, booked a spot at Miller's Point near Simon's Town.
Accompanying them would be Mo's older brother and his son. They would be using a tent which sleeps 8 and two smaller 2- sleepers.
But I didn't care about their sleeping arrangements. Nor did I care about what activities they would be enjoying while away. Nor about their meals. Instead, as the weekend approached, I started to become increasingly apprehensive about them leaving.
I mentioned a while back how much I hate my family being split up when we have available family time (like weekends). I don't even like the kids to spend the night by their grandparents - I can't help feeling as if it is a waste of the time we could have spent together. (Is that selfish?)
When this happens I feel lost and incomplete - as if part of me is missing.
So, in anticipating this past weekend, in addition to me inevitably feeling lost, I also dreaded my time with the three girls who would be remaining behind. I did not look forward to the moans of ''Why does Shakeel have all the fun?'' and ''Now what fun activity can we do'' (since I owed them for allowing Shakeel to have more fun than what they would). Mostly, I dreaded Aisha's tantrums. Although I deal with her tantrums all day while Mo is at work, I am usually comforted by the fact that there is an end in sight, i.e. when Mo get's home at the end of the day. And what would I do if she threw tantrum in the middle of the night (as she so often does these days)? Oh, the horror!!
So on Saturday morning, I walked about the house with an air of sadness, wondering if anyone was appreciative of my laudable unselfishness - putting the desires of my son and his dad above my own needs. When it was time to leave, I greeted Shakeel with a lump in my throat and a forced smile - secretly impressed with my own stoicism. What a mother I was!
I greeted Mo with a hug and a kiss and, as he turned to walk away, I heaved a sigh of relief at my own triumph - my victory over the urge to mutter in his ear, '' This is all your fault! I hate you for doing this to me!'' Instead, I smiled at him through my clenched jaw and quickly went back inside before I said anything which could dethrone me as the Queen of Self-Sacrifice.
My weekend with the girls was everything I'd expected. Thinking that I'd be alone with them, I'd promised them an afternoon of cupcake making and decorating. But when we unexpectedly received visitors (including their little cousins) I spent the afternoon in the kitchen preparing supper. Every few minutes either Tharaa (10) or Nuha (7) would whisper in my ear that I was breaking my promise to them. Although they were having a blast playing with their cousins, they also wanted me to ignore the parents and spend the afternoon with them as promised.
I was on egg-shells with Aisha all the time. My attempts at hiding her dad and brother's departure were thwarted when an over-excited Shakeel ran back into the house to throw his arms around my neck and to give each of his sisters a very dramatic goodbye kiss-and-hug. Since she was unable to verbalise her confusion, she spent the day grumpily clinging to me and throwing the odd tantrum.
She ended up going to bed at 1:45 on Sunday morning.
My mum, niece and unmarried brother slept over. The following morning mum-in-law brought breakfast, enabling us to carry on our weekend tradition of breakfast with rolls, spiced beef and mustard.
While we were sitting at the table chatting, Mo and the boys walked in. Despite it being extremely hot in our neck of the woods, the weather at Millers Point had been icy. It had been so windy that they were unable to pitch the tent - in fact the wind had torn the tent and caused one of the poles of the BORROWED tent to bend. Mo spent yesterday trying to establish the cost of repairing the tent and replacing the pole (before returning the tent to its owner).
So the boys had slept in the cars, while Mo and his brother had attempted to sleep in the tiny two-sleeper. Needless to say nobody had gotten much sleep.
The boys arrived back exhausted. In addition, a few of them returned with diarrhoea. (I suspect that one of them had had the virus before embarking upon their adventure, and then kindly shared it with the rest of his buddies). While all the boys lazed about in the lounge (either playing Playstation or PSP), one of them vomited right there on the floor. Needless to say, Mo took him home immediately.
Despite their discomfort and the fact that nothing had gone according to plan, the boys had enjoyed themselves. In fact, owing to their reluctance to leave each other, two of them accompanied us to our Sunday night prayer gathering. At the end of the one and a half hour long prayer meeting, the boys looked as if they were about to collapse.
''My bum hurts!'' one of them complained (since we sit on the floor for the entire one and a half hours).
''My head hurts!'' another groaned.
''One would think you just came from playing a vicious rugby match - instead of having sat through a peaceful prayer meeting, '' I cruelly mocked.
''Try sitting through a long prayer meeting after having had less than four hours sleep the previous night,'' one of them retorted.
I laughed with glee - not at the three zombies walking toward the car with me, but at the fact that my life had returned to normal - or at least to the level of normalcy to which I was accustomed. My family had been restored. Once again, life was good.
So after months of him begging and pleading, I agreed to a boys' camp away from home. His dad was secretly ecstatic - he had wanted to go camping for ages, but this had never come to pass, since I was always reluctant to stay in a tent with two-year old Aisha - since not even the brick walls of a building are enough to silence the shrieks this child emits during her hour-long tantrums. I knew that we'd be evicted from any camp site after just one night.
So Mo, while pretending to resign himself to the awful duty of going camping with Shakeel and some of Shakeel's friends, booked a spot at Miller's Point near Simon's Town.
Accompanying them would be Mo's older brother and his son. They would be using a tent which sleeps 8 and two smaller 2- sleepers.
But I didn't care about their sleeping arrangements. Nor did I care about what activities they would be enjoying while away. Nor about their meals. Instead, as the weekend approached, I started to become increasingly apprehensive about them leaving.
I mentioned a while back how much I hate my family being split up when we have available family time (like weekends). I don't even like the kids to spend the night by their grandparents - I can't help feeling as if it is a waste of the time we could have spent together. (Is that selfish?)
When this happens I feel lost and incomplete - as if part of me is missing.
So, in anticipating this past weekend, in addition to me inevitably feeling lost, I also dreaded my time with the three girls who would be remaining behind. I did not look forward to the moans of ''Why does Shakeel have all the fun?'' and ''Now what fun activity can we do'' (since I owed them for allowing Shakeel to have more fun than what they would). Mostly, I dreaded Aisha's tantrums. Although I deal with her tantrums all day while Mo is at work, I am usually comforted by the fact that there is an end in sight, i.e. when Mo get's home at the end of the day. And what would I do if she threw tantrum in the middle of the night (as she so often does these days)? Oh, the horror!!
So on Saturday morning, I walked about the house with an air of sadness, wondering if anyone was appreciative of my laudable unselfishness - putting the desires of my son and his dad above my own needs. When it was time to leave, I greeted Shakeel with a lump in my throat and a forced smile - secretly impressed with my own stoicism. What a mother I was!
I greeted Mo with a hug and a kiss and, as he turned to walk away, I heaved a sigh of relief at my own triumph - my victory over the urge to mutter in his ear, '' This is all your fault! I hate you for doing this to me!'' Instead, I smiled at him through my clenched jaw and quickly went back inside before I said anything which could dethrone me as the Queen of Self-Sacrifice.
My weekend with the girls was everything I'd expected. Thinking that I'd be alone with them, I'd promised them an afternoon of cupcake making and decorating. But when we unexpectedly received visitors (including their little cousins) I spent the afternoon in the kitchen preparing supper. Every few minutes either Tharaa (10) or Nuha (7) would whisper in my ear that I was breaking my promise to them. Although they were having a blast playing with their cousins, they also wanted me to ignore the parents and spend the afternoon with them as promised.
I was on egg-shells with Aisha all the time. My attempts at hiding her dad and brother's departure were thwarted when an over-excited Shakeel ran back into the house to throw his arms around my neck and to give each of his sisters a very dramatic goodbye kiss-and-hug. Since she was unable to verbalise her confusion, she spent the day grumpily clinging to me and throwing the odd tantrum.
She ended up going to bed at 1:45 on Sunday morning.
My mum, niece and unmarried brother slept over. The following morning mum-in-law brought breakfast, enabling us to carry on our weekend tradition of breakfast with rolls, spiced beef and mustard.
While we were sitting at the table chatting, Mo and the boys walked in. Despite it being extremely hot in our neck of the woods, the weather at Millers Point had been icy. It had been so windy that they were unable to pitch the tent - in fact the wind had torn the tent and caused one of the poles of the BORROWED tent to bend. Mo spent yesterday trying to establish the cost of repairing the tent and replacing the pole (before returning the tent to its owner).
So the boys had slept in the cars, while Mo and his brother had attempted to sleep in the tiny two-sleeper. Needless to say nobody had gotten much sleep.
The boys arrived back exhausted. In addition, a few of them returned with diarrhoea. (I suspect that one of them had had the virus before embarking upon their adventure, and then kindly shared it with the rest of his buddies). While all the boys lazed about in the lounge (either playing Playstation or PSP), one of them vomited right there on the floor. Needless to say, Mo took him home immediately.
Despite their discomfort and the fact that nothing had gone according to plan, the boys had enjoyed themselves. In fact, owing to their reluctance to leave each other, two of them accompanied us to our Sunday night prayer gathering. At the end of the one and a half hour long prayer meeting, the boys looked as if they were about to collapse.
''My bum hurts!'' one of them complained (since we sit on the floor for the entire one and a half hours).
''My head hurts!'' another groaned.
''One would think you just came from playing a vicious rugby match - instead of having sat through a peaceful prayer meeting, '' I cruelly mocked.
''Try sitting through a long prayer meeting after having had less than four hours sleep the previous night,'' one of them retorted.
I laughed with glee - not at the three zombies walking toward the car with me, but at the fact that my life had returned to normal - or at least to the level of normalcy to which I was accustomed. My family had been restored. Once again, life was good.
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?
or
Me: Aisha, what are you watching?
Aisha: I caaan't! I don't know hoooow! (throwing up her hands in fake frustration)
Ookay then.
or
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.
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?
or
Me: Aisha, what are you watching?
Aisha: I caaan't! I don't know hoooow! (throwing up her hands in fake frustration)
Ookay then.
or
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.
Tuesday, 20 March 2012
Wannabe Bangladeshi's - and Sea Point park gymnasts
Yesterday Mo received a call from his brother, who is a professional photographer who also works in the production of movies, advertisements etc. They were looking to cast Bangladeshi-looking children and he thought Shakeel (12) and Nuha (7) would be perfect.
Shakeel who, like his mother, is afraid of new experiences among strangers, was nervous. He complained about a head- and tummy ache from the moment we informed him of the casting. He was an absolute wreck, seeking constant reassurance. Who was going to be there? Would there be other children? What would he be expected to do? He drove me nuts.
Then, like his mother often did, he asked to quit before he even began. I completely understood his nerves - and I sympathised. But I also knew that the anticipation was scarier than the actual event would be. This has happened to him so often - he'd be terrified of attending an event, just to find that it is not as bad once he's there.
Another reason that I usually insist that he should do things of which he is afraid, is that I am living with so much regret for not having done things I would have enjoyed - simply because I was afraid. I love swimming and table tennis and, as a child, always longed to participate at club level, but I was too shy. Now my poor mother is bearing the brunt of my regret, with me constantly nagging and moaning, ''Why didn't you force me?''
Nuha was shy, but excited - not really sure what was expected of her. I think part of her just enjoyed being selected for something for which Tharaa (10) was not.
The casting took place in Sea Point (opposite the parks). So while Mo took Shakeel and Nuha in, I let Tharaa and Aisha (2) play on the beautiful lawns.
I made point of taking pictures of them, so that they would not feel as if they were missing out while their siblings were being photographed. But, I needn't have worried. Once they were let loose onto the open space, they became absolutely feral - wildly running and shrieking.
A dog-owner with his two large dogs noticed that they were afraid of his pets, so he approached them with the ball with which he was entertaining his dogs. He tried to get Aisha to throw the ball, to encourage her to interact with the dog. But to no avail. The child shrieked while her older sister practically climbed up my leg, as the dogs came nearer. I apologised profusely to the disappointed man and felt really bad as he took the delightful canines to play in another part of the park.
As soon as the coast was clear once again, Tharaa - our agile gymnast- started to perform cartwheels, Arab-springs and hand-stands, the way she always does when let loose into wide open spaces.
Her little sister, as usual, imitated everything she did.
Aisha also enjoyed the attention she got from passers-by when she started to perform a High School Musical song, holding her pretend microphone in her hand and shaking her little body shamelessly.
Just as we approached the car (as it was starting to become chilly), our two budding actors returned with their dad. As I'd suspected he would, Shakeel had enjoyed the experience.
We just received a call today to say that Shakeel had been chosen for the advertisement. To prevent Nuha from being disappointed and feeling rejected, we told her that they had only selected boys for the ad. Oh, the life of showbiz parents! (It's perfectly acceptable to tell a lie to prevent your child from getting hurt, isn't it?)
The older kids have indicated that they want to join a casting agency. This does not surprise me at all, since they all have a flair for the dramatic (evident when my instructions to switch off the TV and study are met with theatrical meltdowns into tears of utter devastation).
Mo and I will fully support them on this path . It's by time they start earning their keep.
Shakeel who, like his mother, is afraid of new experiences among strangers, was nervous. He complained about a head- and tummy ache from the moment we informed him of the casting. He was an absolute wreck, seeking constant reassurance. Who was going to be there? Would there be other children? What would he be expected to do? He drove me nuts.
Then, like his mother often did, he asked to quit before he even began. I completely understood his nerves - and I sympathised. But I also knew that the anticipation was scarier than the actual event would be. This has happened to him so often - he'd be terrified of attending an event, just to find that it is not as bad once he's there.
Another reason that I usually insist that he should do things of which he is afraid, is that I am living with so much regret for not having done things I would have enjoyed - simply because I was afraid. I love swimming and table tennis and, as a child, always longed to participate at club level, but I was too shy. Now my poor mother is bearing the brunt of my regret, with me constantly nagging and moaning, ''Why didn't you force me?''
Nuha was shy, but excited - not really sure what was expected of her. I think part of her just enjoyed being selected for something for which Tharaa (10) was not.
The casting took place in Sea Point (opposite the parks). So while Mo took Shakeel and Nuha in, I let Tharaa and Aisha (2) play on the beautiful lawns.
I made point of taking pictures of them, so that they would not feel as if they were missing out while their siblings were being photographed. But, I needn't have worried. Once they were let loose onto the open space, they became absolutely feral - wildly running and shrieking.
A dog-owner with his two large dogs noticed that they were afraid of his pets, so he approached them with the ball with which he was entertaining his dogs. He tried to get Aisha to throw the ball, to encourage her to interact with the dog. But to no avail. The child shrieked while her older sister practically climbed up my leg, as the dogs came nearer. I apologised profusely to the disappointed man and felt really bad as he took the delightful canines to play in another part of the park.
As soon as the coast was clear once again, Tharaa - our agile gymnast- started to perform cartwheels, Arab-springs and hand-stands, the way she always does when let loose into wide open spaces.
Her little sister, as usual, imitated everything she did.
Aisha also enjoyed the attention she got from passers-by when she started to perform a High School Musical song, holding her pretend microphone in her hand and shaking her little body shamelessly.
Just as we approached the car (as it was starting to become chilly), our two budding actors returned with their dad. As I'd suspected he would, Shakeel had enjoyed the experience.
We just received a call today to say that Shakeel had been chosen for the advertisement. To prevent Nuha from being disappointed and feeling rejected, we told her that they had only selected boys for the ad. Oh, the life of showbiz parents! (It's perfectly acceptable to tell a lie to prevent your child from getting hurt, isn't it?)
The older kids have indicated that they want to join a casting agency. This does not surprise me at all, since they all have a flair for the dramatic (evident when my instructions to switch off the TV and study are met with theatrical meltdowns into tears of utter devastation).
Mo and I will fully support them on this path . It's by time they start earning their keep.
Monday, 19 March 2012
Eastern Food Bazaar visit; savouring the last of the summer flowers and Aisha brings home her first art activity
On Friday night we took Mum-in-law out for supper at the Eastern Food Bazaar. This is one of my and Mo's favourite places to eat. We absolutely love their curries. The kiddies however usually prefer their pizza over curry. Mum-in-law ordered the grilled chicken.
Although there are an abundance of restaurants and eating establishments in and around Cape Town, there are not many sit-down places which are certified as Halaal. EFB is one of the very few Halaal certified establishments based right in the centre of town, which makes it perfect for us.
The food orders are placed downstairs at a very long counter. Service was relatively quick, which I really appreciated, since the kids had been moaning about being hungry in the car already. The atmosphere downstairs is usually busy, loud and vibey, which means that we usually opt for the more quiet and serene upstairs eating area - where it is not quite as easy to lose one of your kids. I'm always stunned at the exquisite decor upstairs; especially the intricately carved wooden furniture.
The annoying part of the evening was that Shakeel (12) spent the most of the night playing games on his cell phone instead of chatting to us. Since Mum-in-law was accompanying us, I was unable to growl at him the way I normally would - a fact of which he clearly took full advantage. I made a mental note to give him hell when we got back home.
Dinner was lovely, as usual. Mum-in-law, who possesses culinary skills of note, noted that there was an excess of cumin in the lamb rogan josh. Luckily I'm clueless about such matters, so I was able to enjoy the dish without reservation.
On Saturday morning the kids spent time playing outside. They sadly noted that some of the plants bearing summer flowers were withering, which prompted them to make the best of the few which remained. They filled a large transparent dish with water, removed a variety of flower heads and arranged it to form a pretty little floating garden. Shakeel's role was to keep the bees away from the girls as they selected the perfect flowers for their bowl. But after failing to convince the girls to place one of the goldfish into the bowl, he lost interest in the project and wandered off to play his Playstation instead.
Yesterday afternoon we headed for the gym. As usual we dropped Nuha (7) and Aisha (2) at the children's play area at the gym, while Mo, Shakeel and Tharaa (10) swam laps in the smaller pool. I had a really intense workout - I could hardly walk at the end of it. In fact I am still aching from it (in a good way).
The best part of our time at the gym was that two-year old Aisha, who is not yet at daycare/creche, brought home her first piece of art. The older kids were so excited - they insisted that I start a file for all Aisha's 'work'.
My brother and his family popped around when we returned from gym. As usual the kids were ecstatic to see their cousins. They screeched, played and slurped chocolate ice-cream. So much fun.
As usual we rounded the weekend off by attending our calming, yet spiritually rejuvenating, Sunday evening prayer meeting. And, as usual Nuha slept right through it.
It was a lovely busy weekend.
Although there are an abundance of restaurants and eating establishments in and around Cape Town, there are not many sit-down places which are certified as Halaal. EFB is one of the very few Halaal certified establishments based right in the centre of town, which makes it perfect for us.
The food orders are placed downstairs at a very long counter. Service was relatively quick, which I really appreciated, since the kids had been moaning about being hungry in the car already. The atmosphere downstairs is usually busy, loud and vibey, which means that we usually opt for the more quiet and serene upstairs eating area - where it is not quite as easy to lose one of your kids. I'm always stunned at the exquisite decor upstairs; especially the intricately carved wooden furniture.
The annoying part of the evening was that Shakeel (12) spent the most of the night playing games on his cell phone instead of chatting to us. Since Mum-in-law was accompanying us, I was unable to growl at him the way I normally would - a fact of which he clearly took full advantage. I made a mental note to give him hell when we got back home.
Dinner was lovely, as usual. Mum-in-law, who possesses culinary skills of note, noted that there was an excess of cumin in the lamb rogan josh. Luckily I'm clueless about such matters, so I was able to enjoy the dish without reservation.
Yesterday afternoon we headed for the gym. As usual we dropped Nuha (7) and Aisha (2) at the children's play area at the gym, while Mo, Shakeel and Tharaa (10) swam laps in the smaller pool. I had a really intense workout - I could hardly walk at the end of it. In fact I am still aching from it (in a good way).
The best part of our time at the gym was that two-year old Aisha, who is not yet at daycare/creche, brought home her first piece of art. The older kids were so excited - they insisted that I start a file for all Aisha's 'work'.
My brother and his family popped around when we returned from gym. As usual the kids were ecstatic to see their cousins. They screeched, played and slurped chocolate ice-cream. So much fun.
As usual we rounded the weekend off by attending our calming, yet spiritually rejuvenating, Sunday evening prayer meeting. And, as usual Nuha slept right through it.
It was a lovely busy weekend.
Friday, 16 March 2012
School, homework, gym/karate, madrassah- is this overscheduling?
I always compare my childhood - during which I remember playing outside with friends, climbing the tree in our backyard, riding bicycles, rollerskating, playing hopscotch, playing in the park etc - with the type of lives children lead today.
Children today seem to be so busy; always involved in some or other structured after-school activity. According to an article I read, some of the negative effects of overscheduling in our kids' lives include kids:
- feeling tired, anxious, or depressed
- complaining of headaches and stomach aches, which may be due to stress, missed meals, or lack of sleep
- falling behind in their schoolwork, causing their grades to drop
I promised myself that I would never burden my kids that way.
However this week, I feel as if I have been doing just that.
We recently joined the gym (as a family). We did not merely embark upon this (rather expensive) activity for pleasure alone - I believe that Mo and I really need it (with his terrifyingly high blood pressure and my frustratingly out-of-control stress and anxiety levels).
We'd been talking about going running for ages, but this has just never materialised since we did not have anyone to look after the two youngest kids. Gym has provided the perfect solution, since there is a well-supervised play centre for the two youngest, while the two older kids are allowed to use most of the cardio equipment.
However, the kids also have karate on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturday mornings. I'm not too strict about them attending karate in the week, but this week I insisted since they will be grading on Saturday.
In addition to gym and karate, the kids also usually have a mountain of homework. Although, come to think of it, I'm not sure if the volume is really the reason it takes hours to complete, or if they just drag it out since they have nothing else to do in the afternoons.
Another activity still to be added to the list, is madrassah (Islamic school). Now I remember coming home from school every afternoon and skipping off to madrassah every afternoon from Monday to Thursday - yet I recall still having loads of play-time afterward.
So we are looking at sending them to madrassah on a Sunday morning for three hours.
Their free time for the week will therefore include: an hour before bedtime, Fridays after school, Saturday after karate and Sunday after madrassah.
I can't help but worry that we might be depriving them of unstructured time for free play.
So their schedules will be as follows:
Monday - Thursday
7:55 - 14:30 -- School
15:10 -- Arrive home
15:10 - 15:30 -- Break
15:30 - 17:30 -- Homework
17:30 - 18:30 ish-- Gym / Karate
18:45 -- Arrive home
18:45 - 19:20 -- Supper and Bathtime (for all)
19:20 - 20:30 -- Play / Relax until bedtime
I think we can be more flexible with gym on Fridays, so as to give them the entire afternoon after school (and evening) to themselves.
Saturday karate is from 10:30 - 12:30.
Sunday madrassah is also in the morning some time.
I know that the detail provided by this post is incredibly mundane, but I'm really just using this to formulate my thoughts. (In fact seeing their time-table laid out like this is really helpful to me - until now their weekly schedule has just appeared to me as a busy blur).
About the free time I'm so intent on preserving for them - let's face it, with our lifestyle and surroundings, my kids would not be cycling outside (due to lack of safety), climbing trees, playing hopscotch or enjoying the fresh outdoor air. They'd most likely be glued to the TV, or sneakily playing games on my phone (since playing Playstation during the week is prohibited).
But still, isn't the point that they be given enough free time within which to do as they wish (within set limits, of course)?
The question is - is the free time they have available for themselves, sufficient? Are we over-burdening them with activities?
It is very challenging to establish a schedule which meets everyone's varied needs (including Mo's and my health needs). The best I can do for now is to stick to this schedule provisionally and monitor each of the kids carefully.
Perhaps I'm over-thinking (the way I always tend to do). But, like all parents, I really just want the best for my kids.
Children today seem to be so busy; always involved in some or other structured after-school activity. According to an article I read, some of the negative effects of overscheduling in our kids' lives include kids:
- feeling tired, anxious, or depressed
- complaining of headaches and stomach aches, which may be due to stress, missed meals, or lack of sleep
- falling behind in their schoolwork, causing their grades to drop
I promised myself that I would never burden my kids that way.
However this week, I feel as if I have been doing just that.
We recently joined the gym (as a family). We did not merely embark upon this (rather expensive) activity for pleasure alone - I believe that Mo and I really need it (with his terrifyingly high blood pressure and my frustratingly out-of-control stress and anxiety levels).
We'd been talking about going running for ages, but this has just never materialised since we did not have anyone to look after the two youngest kids. Gym has provided the perfect solution, since there is a well-supervised play centre for the two youngest, while the two older kids are allowed to use most of the cardio equipment.
However, the kids also have karate on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturday mornings. I'm not too strict about them attending karate in the week, but this week I insisted since they will be grading on Saturday.
In addition to gym and karate, the kids also usually have a mountain of homework. Although, come to think of it, I'm not sure if the volume is really the reason it takes hours to complete, or if they just drag it out since they have nothing else to do in the afternoons.
Another activity still to be added to the list, is madrassah (Islamic school). Now I remember coming home from school every afternoon and skipping off to madrassah every afternoon from Monday to Thursday - yet I recall still having loads of play-time afterward.
So we are looking at sending them to madrassah on a Sunday morning for three hours.
Their free time for the week will therefore include: an hour before bedtime, Fridays after school, Saturday after karate and Sunday after madrassah.
I can't help but worry that we might be depriving them of unstructured time for free play.
So their schedules will be as follows:
Monday - Thursday
7:55 - 14:30 -- School
15:10 -- Arrive home
15:10 - 15:30 -- Break
15:30 - 17:30 -- Homework
17:30 - 18:30 ish-- Gym / Karate
18:45 -- Arrive home
18:45 - 19:20 -- Supper and Bathtime (for all)
19:20 - 20:30 -- Play / Relax until bedtime
I think we can be more flexible with gym on Fridays, so as to give them the entire afternoon after school (and evening) to themselves.
Saturday karate is from 10:30 - 12:30.
Sunday madrassah is also in the morning some time.
I know that the detail provided by this post is incredibly mundane, but I'm really just using this to formulate my thoughts. (In fact seeing their time-table laid out like this is really helpful to me - until now their weekly schedule has just appeared to me as a busy blur).
About the free time I'm so intent on preserving for them - let's face it, with our lifestyle and surroundings, my kids would not be cycling outside (due to lack of safety), climbing trees, playing hopscotch or enjoying the fresh outdoor air. They'd most likely be glued to the TV, or sneakily playing games on my phone (since playing Playstation during the week is prohibited).
But still, isn't the point that they be given enough free time within which to do as they wish (within set limits, of course)?
The question is - is the free time they have available for themselves, sufficient? Are we over-burdening them with activities?
It is very challenging to establish a schedule which meets everyone's varied needs (including Mo's and my health needs). The best I can do for now is to stick to this schedule provisionally and monitor each of the kids carefully.
Perhaps I'm over-thinking (the way I always tend to do). But, like all parents, I really just want the best for my kids.
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