December 30, 2007
Well, I can blame him, but I choose not to. I blame me…
Not for falling for the wrong person; we all do that at one stage of our lives.
Not for choosing to ignore the millions of signs and choosing to see him as noble as I thought he was; I was young and naive and entitled to be wooed by a good looking guy who spoke well and made me feel loved.
But I will forever blame myself for accepting to live by his rules, rules I know I would have never agreed to and never actually did, but only lived by them to please him. I will forever blame myself for keeping unexplainable distance between myself and a lot of people just to make him feel secure.
This is what I blame myself for every time one or some of his lies unravel.
I do it to myself every time…
Every time I think I am strong enough to say that I am totally over the pain he caused, I receive yet another slap in the face…
But do I deserve it?? Perhaps… after all, I do seek the truth, truth that I know shall never bring peace to my soul.
But I challenge myself because I need to know for sure if I healed; I want to feel healed, is it that bad? Yes, for I know I will never be healed; I have more than just c-section scars, I have emotional scars that may seem to have healed but they are bound to sting whenever I pour salt on them, which I do!!
I just want my closure; every single time I think I have it, it slips right through my fingers leaving me with more pain than I can handle… will it ever end?? The only closure I would accept is to know he’s sorry and he’s paying the price, but it may take more than my lifetime to get that. Why don’t I just have faith that he will get what he deserves in time?? I blame the stupid stupid notion that bad things are bound to happen to bad people and that in fairy tales, the villain is bound to suffer in the end. But my end seems to be much further than in fairy tales.
Even when I am in my strong moments, my mind can’t help but wander to two devastating thoughts…
Number one: has he always been like that, or did he simply change??? It hurts to think I was THAT stupid not to see him for who he is… I thought I was smarter than that; my friends always told me I was smarter than that!! If only they see me now!
Seriously, was it all a lie??? I hate to admit I will never really know for sure… stop moping, get over yourself already! You hate whining, so quit doing it, suck it up and move on and don’t be such a wimp.
Number two: I can’t believe I am the best option my kids have!!!!! Seriously, given how much my mom and I have been fighting lately, and how she keeps bringing up that I am a terrible person and mother, I am starting to believe her shit! Let alone that when she says things like how she’s tired babysitting mocha, my pride itches and I hate myself for needing her help, or my sisters’ for that matter… yeah, i resent needing help.
I hate to admit that I have considered for a fraction of a second sending them to their father and his family to take care of them. That thought was rejected instantly for I know for a fact they provide an even worse environment.
Which brings me back to my thought, am I really the best option they have? May God have mercy on them… my heart was breaking as I was crying my eyes out to my friend H on the phone telling her how inadequate I feel. I appreciate her extremely soothing words reassuring me that it was the sleep deprivation and the effect of mama’s words talking, not my normal self (whatever that is), but the thought still lingers: Am I the best they have??????
My head won't leave my head alone*
* N has exclusive copy rights of the words in italics followed by an Astrix.
December 28, 2007
I dare ask that because it’s what I do. I have a lot of hurtful things on my mind I wish I could just say, but I am keeping them to myself, not because they are untrue for they are!! But basically because no good would come out of hurting those I would like to say those words to.
All I want is that much… and yeah, if those hurtful words are untrue, it’s just unfair!
December 25, 2007
It was brought to my attention that I never received my estemara 6 from my previous job. True! I had no idea one was supposed to obtain it from former employer; I always thought it was automatically forwarded to the employment office and then provided by the same to the next employer whenever needed. It just made more sense in my head that way. A friend of mine pointed on another note that I live in my own dream world, which I think was a compliment despite the sarcastic tone.
So, I called the Administration Manager, who is a retired lewa, a pretty grumpy old man who can be extremely nice to polite people such as myself, despite how obnoxious he is to blue collar staff! The man was of great help and told me he could even give the document to a friend of mine who worked there if I couldn’t personally go and pick it up to which I replied “la ya seyadet el lewa, ana lazem agy assalem 3ala 7adritak Kaman”. I have a friend who personally hates that man and who will have strong urges to call me names when he reads this. Sorry B, the man is nice to me; my late grandpa wasn’t that nice, so when people his age show signs of niceness, i respond!
I also happened to know while calling them that my colleague/trainer got promoted to Department Manager, which made me so thrilled to go give her a you-go-girl hug, so it wasn’t just to personally thank el lewa.
After miraculously finding a parking space, I stumbled upon a guy who worked in the Legal Department whom I barely even liked, and he was extremely nice to me, which made me think that now that I have seen how low people can sink (courtesy of my husband), I am able to see people as less obnoxious!
The moment I walked in on my recently promoted colleague, she greeted me so warmly as I congratulated her we kept squealing with joy like girls do, until people gathered. Those whom I worked with greeted me BIG time; all hugs and kisses from the girls and strong handshakes from the guys (which sounds extremely weird to non Arabs, I know).
I was instantly reminded of how warm it felt working with those people. How the only thing that made me wake up in the very early morning and endure leaving so late and the hectic work load. It simply was that I could joke with those people all day long. I felt warm and fuzzy inside, that my cheeks kept on blushing more and more with happiness, which made S (my former supervisor/mother figure whom I feel comfortable ranting to) tell me I especially glowed, despite her knowing of the loads of crap I am sinking under.
It was overwhelming how I kept running into people who told me I was looking great. It made me feel great! Yes, I hereby admit that despite not caring what people think of me, it did make a difference yesterday when people told me nice things either about my looks or how they missed “the joy my spirit brought to the workplace”.
I sat with S alone for a while and she gave me my so much needed dose of support/advice, then I dropped by my friend’s office, the one who got me that job who happens to be the sister of one of my two best friends, and also knows about the drama in my life. We kept talking about how the upcoming move to the new work location is going and I asked her which company they were dealing with in this regard. She told me it was the company the husband worked for; yes, the one where that person he cheated on me with still works! This brought us to talking about him. She told me the most amazing thing ever: “you know, there is nothing to worry about when it comes to restarting your life without him; money buys everything, everything is replaceable, EXCEPT good people, and he was not good. As for money, Rabina elly beyeb3atha la2enaha riz2 men 3ando, so don’t worry, things will be fine”
I told her how the only thing that sometimes made me a tad bitter was feeling that he never felt remorse for what he did, for believing his own bull shit. To that, she told me that he may never feel the remorse he should and that he may remain delusional about the whole thing; however, it will sting to see me moving on as if losing him was never a big deal and that one look at how my face was glowing would make him feel that way instantly.
These people have made my day. Damn it, they returned color to my face after I thought it had gotten too pale even for make up to revive. THANK YOU GUYS. I know it means nothing to say that when I refused rejoining the company. But the reasons I quit still stand, so let me just say, it’s been great.
Of course I went home to my mother to actually find her still talking about going back to him, but this time I was too happy to repeat my previous reply, and instead I told her calmly in front of my dad to repeat what she said, and he did the honors. Thanks baba, I LOVE YOU.
I am happy, at least for today, alhamdul’Ellah.
Oh yeah, MERRY CHRISTMAS and all.
December 17, 2007
"Happy Eid ya (my name), and happy eid to beano and mocha too, our 2 angels, ya rab tekoony betkalemeehom kowayes 3anny, i wish you do that. Really, God knows my good intend for all of us & for your family. Happy eid, ya rab 3id sa3eed 3aliko, we ya rab ye'adimlina el kheir ya binty. Take care of u, dayman bad3eelik bel kowayes fe sery we fi salaty we 3azrek walahy. but!"
followed by this...
"Btw, don't forget 2 fast 2morrow we 3and el fitar ed3y bel khair ya (my name) we isA, rabina ye2ademlek dayman el khair ya om el 3eyal. I wish u get my msgs in good intent"
Will someone please tell me what to do, this is not good for my general health! i did not reply or even show any signs of reactions, but I am boiling underneath.....
*Maintaining my "Depressed Bit$#" mode and updating it to "Depressed Angry BitS#" Mode
So, to the family members who will either be joining me or meeting me in alex: Sorry for the bad mood and the crossed face, but I kinda like it that way and I plan to keep it... I am activating my "Depressed Bit$#" Mode.
Happy Holidays All
December 13, 2007
It was basically a joke. Even when the two of us had that big fight when I did not like the doctor he made me visit with his creepy doctor friend, that I panicked the day of the ERCP procedure and had to postpone it to the next day to be done in another hospital with a different doctor, the one who first diagnosed me (God bless that man).
Even when he did not show up that day because he was upset with me for ‘embarrassing’ him with his doctor friends, I did not think we had big issues really. Even when I got out of the hospital the same day to go back to my beano and did not find the driver or the car, that my mom and I had to take a cab home, I thought it was him urgently needing the driver to run an urgent errand. Even when he visited for a total of 15 minutes and left despite the pain I was in and my request of him to stay with me; I just thought he was like my dad, unable to react around sick people. Instead, I appreciated him bringing me ice cream despite being unable to eat a thing for two days.
I repeatedly over heard mama saying “howa elly gablaha el marara”, and just gave her the stop-saying-crap look. However, according to her, my husband was mean to me since our first baby. She saw my continuous sobbing long after my baby blues was supposedly over. She saw that fight I had with him over the phone in the hospital parking lot. She knew how extremely uncomfortable his grandma made me feel and saw how many times I have endured it saying “my late nana wasn’t that easy on people either, but she loved me; the least I can do is endure that woman because I know she loves him”.
As my mother, she felt bad for me of the past year, she sometimes badmouthed him, but she was immediately silenced by my glares. And of all the people he has offended all through the past six months (and even before), she was the one he offended the most because she was an easy target; given how he knew we never got quite along.
So what the hell is wrong with her to tell me that yesterday?
Her: you know, this court thing, could drag for a year, it’s not good for the kids
Me: so? There isn’t much I can do about it!
Her: I was thinking… but you always dislike my opinions and give me attitude, although all I want is the best for you and the kids..
Her: really, it’s for the welfare of the kids, and I know you wouldn’t like to hear the end of it
Me: mama, just say whatever it is you want to say and spare me the intro; this is exactly what makes me impatient
Her: he wasn’t always that bad you know
Me: MAMA, say whatever you want already
Her: well, for the sake of the kids, don’t get me wrong, what would happen if you –just for the sake of the kids- compromise and go back to him..
I will not repeat what I said to her in reply, because it was extremely rude and impolite of me. However, I am ashamed to say, I would say all over again.
When telling my father, he smiled and said “typical”. I told him “no seriously, I need to know what she was thinking, did she really mean it? Or she just wanted to piss me off?”. He tried to explain by telling me that she thinks I am acting irresponsibly, which is making her believe to some extent that my husband had reasons to behave that way!!!
Again, I was overwhelmed by what my dad told me; I asked him what she was expecting of me exactly and what her definition of responsible was. Again, he repeated that it is a fact that I am being irresponsible to an extent, and did his best to change the subject after making it clear that he does not agree with the rest of mama’s theory.
What do they want? I may not act ‘responsibly’ all the time, but I sure as hell have a big sense of responsibility that is suffocating the crap out of me.
I have admitted what I have done wrong in my marriage more than once; heck, I have even apologized to my husband for it repeatedly despite my awareness that it no way justified what HE did to me.
I am the one who takes care of the kids (with my family’s help), not him; he never even did that. The most he has ever done was take beano to the pool and then giving him to me to shower and change him, even when I was pregnant.
I never complained when he wasn’t that bad. I was as responsible as I could be, given all the circumstances.
Damn it, they can’t just do this to me, they can’t!!
Now, I know she expects me to take care of mocha more, but how am I supposed to when I sleep less than 5 hours a day, work 8 hours a day, and run errands every now and then, and let’s not forget I have a flu that simply won't go away!!
Yes, I get tired!! Am I not supposed to??
Yes, sometimes I can’t stand the sound of a crying baby, and I am entitled to; still, I take him in my arms and try to smile and sing to him the way I normally would if I wasn’t that exhausted.
Yes, I lose my temper at beano when he insists on doing the same mistake over and over just out of being stubborn and I yell at her when she tells me to take it easy because I don’t want him to be a spoilt brat like some I know. But I also know how to take him in my arms and make him feel loved and accepted for whatever her is.
I am admitting I am not the best mother in the world; I know I am not. I even know I am not as responsible as I should be at times.
But I am responsible enough to stay in my room when I have extremely strong urges to get dressed and leave all the chaos I have and just drive away until I feel ready to go home and take it from her or from my kids.
I am responsible enough to wake after midnight and change mocha’s diaper when I am too tired and finally sleepy.
I am responsible enough to keep my social life to the minimum so that i can spend more time at home although I would love to go out and have some fun for a change.
I am responsible enough to still respect that I am married, even if it’s to someone whom for all I know is probably either married or dating or doing whatever, and living his life to the fullest, yet ignoring the family he crushed.
I am sorry ma, I can’t be any more responsible than that! I am a 26 year old child who feels ages older than she really is. I hated responsibility since I was a little kid, but I always took it because no one else would, so spare me that crap.
I wasted 7 of the best years of my life on him, and for that I couldn’t be sorrier. So, NO, I will never even think of wasting one more minute on him for anybody’s sake, not even my kids. And by the way, I am 1000000% convinced that it can never be good for my kids to stay in such marriage.
And if you utter one more word about how many times you decided to stay in your marriage for our sake, I will personally go ask dad to spare you and give you your long waited, yet never requested divorce, except that I know it is NOT what you want; it is just your way of making things about you, like when I complain about something and you say you have it too.
LEAVE ME ALONE, I have enough shit in my life and I promise I can take it much better if you just cut me some slag.
December 11, 2007
Tomorrow will be the preliminary hearing session for my divorce court case. I’ve been avoiding thinking about it for some time because I though I had enough crap on my mind, but I thought it was time to ask my dad.
So I asked him yesterday what was expected to happen since it was the first hearing session and well, Egyptian courts are known to stall anyway. So, he called up the lawyer, and they chatted for a while, I tried not to pay much attention because that would automatically make my mind jump into too much conclusions and I just needed to hear things bit by bit.
After hanging up, he told me that the husband’s aunt refused to receive the notice anyway, and that it has been sent to them via a registered letter which they received a couple of days later. *cough* typical *cough*. Their expected reaction is either to not show up at all, or show up and ask for the matter to be postponed to stall.
He told me that with a calm expecting smile, which got on my nerves a bit even though I expected it myself.
So tomorrow is nothing. Tomorrow is nothing. This was what I have to tell my mind and my system in order to not get too anxious to breathe.
What a great justice system we have. Things have to take time I’ve been told; for all legal procedures to be done properly and effectively, time must be stretched and consumed.
For the welfare of the oppressed and the benefit of the innocent, things must take time.
But the oppressed and the innocent are in desperate need of justice, sometimes they cannot afford to wait until the time comes. Isn’t Justice about being served on time as well?? But whose time?
In this meantime, he gets to enjoy my blanket, MY BLANKET, the one I laid under when I needed to feel warm and protected, and the one I hid under when I needed to cry so that he wouldn’t hear me.
In the meantime, he keeps most of my stuff, that I don’t remember needing until I need to use them; like my pair of suede gloves that I barely ever wear, unless when my hands get extremely cold that they can’t get a good grip of the steering wheel. My older son would have gotten too big to ride his little car, and my younger boy would have gotten too big to find the special blanket I got big enough so that he can feel warm and comfy in it.
My dad finds these things trivial, most of those who read this blog will too; a part of me kinda does as well, but it’s how I feel nonetheless.
My dad tells me I could go buy whatever things I need; I am a buyer anyways, even if I had access to those. I am grateful I can afford buying other stuff, I really am alhamdulilah. But I want those, probably because I can’t have them or even because I don’t want him to have them.
He’s the one who should suffer and feel unstable and insecure, not me. He’s the one who should worry about all that and consider time his enemy, not me. Time is not being fair to me this way.
Ok, wait. I know I should not say that about time. I even know that the real justice is God, and that He makes things happen in a certain way and make them take certain time.
I know that my perception of time and justice is only human and so is the justice system.
I know the divine system works in different ways with different givens, and I believe.
I don’t know if believing counts when you’re as impatient as I am; I don’t even know if believing counts when you do it because you REALLY want to believe and because you know that if you don’t believe you will lose that solid ground you really need to feel underneath your feet right now.
I really want to believe that justice will prevail, and on time. The optimist in me believes; it’s the impatient me that struggles I guess, or the oppressed in me perhaps.
As for what he gets. I am not sure what shall be enough. Every time past events come to mind or any thought related to him really, I just don’t know if anything will be enough.
Again, I know God is fair and I know He will give him what he deserves, but I can’t help but wonder how would a person suffer and realize it’s because of his own doings when this person is too delusional to stop victimizing himself or stop perceiving himself as the oppressed not the oppressor.
This could be his eternal punishment, to always think of himself as the victim and never sees life as fair. A taste of his own medicine: the feeling that someone has wronged him, without the certainty that they will pay for that. Is that enough?
December 9, 2007
I am glad nothing happened to my father; other than him probably yelling his heart out at the driver and having his day ruined. But I have to say I am grateful he’s not hurt, I really am. I showed my gratitude by giving him a Chandler-and-Joey-awkward hug. I guess I have become emotionally crippled; I am not even sure if it’s because I have those genes or because I have been badly bruised!
The good news is that the driver and the legal consultant from his company have acknowledged responsibility for the accident and wrote a document stating that they shall pay the costs of getting the car fixed. However, they asked my dad/his lawyer to make an official statement at the police station so that the insurance company would take care of the expenses.
After sending the car to Peugeot, they received a report of the expected expenditure which went a little bit above 20 K. So, they tried negotiating with my dad to have it done elsewhere for a lower price, which of course my dad did not agree to. So they refrained from paying! Therefore, my dad is suing them; all determined that his case is strong since he has both a written acknowledgement and a documented police statement.
So, I was asking my dad yesterday before I went to bed, what was up with his car,
He briefly answered: “it’s getting fixed”
I asked “in Peugeot?”
Him: “no, samkary”
Me: “who’s paying?”
Him: “I am”
ME: *a huge puzzled look with the bit of wtf*
Him: “oh they will pay the amount as stated by Peugeot plus reimbursement.”
Me: “so why did u not compromise with them, instead of going to court?!!!!”
Him: “because they should not bargain, they should pay for the damage they caused and apologize, politely.”
Me: “so why r u not getting it fixed at Peugeot?????”
Him: “to spite them.”
The strange part is: it totally made sense to me.
I’ve been raised by that man, who believes that when you’ve been wronged, those who wronged you have no right to negotiate your terms; as a matter of fact, they should be glad you were civil enough to sit down and talk and they should show signs of remorse and acceptance of your logic, not question it and expect you to make compromises. This is one of the things he had passed to me.
And THAT ladies and gentlemen, is exactly what is wrong with me.
December 6, 2007
These are the facts…
I am strong. I am rational. I like myself the way I am. I am well aware of my flaws, and I acknowledge and accept them, sometimes I even make up for them when I think it is worth it. I do not indulge either in self pity or in delusions, and I totally resist getting depressed. When I get overwhelmed by negative feelings, I start making up funny things in my head so that I can start laughing the bad feelings away. Sometimes sarcasm helps more and sometimes finding someone who deserves some attitude helps.
Yes, I am over him. However, this does not mean that I am totally over the pain he caused; it still gets to me from time to time, and makes me act like a total bit$h.
With all the scars he left me (and I do keep finding out more scars everyday), I still believe that not all men are crap; I still believe that some are just as good as I once thought he was. Yet, I almost know for certain that I will NEVER get into any relationship again. The reason I used the word ‘almost’ is because I learned the hard way that when you say never, life kicks you in the @$$, so I am just avoiding life’s terrible sense of humor.
Now that I have stated the things I know for sure….
Here are the wonderings that keep getting to me from time to time…
During my daydreaming time, why does my mind always wander to those bad memories, like phrases that once broke my heart, or incidents that my heart chose to ignore, while my mind and instincts knew better?
Why do I think of her from time to time and compare his words to my perception of her in a futile attempt to tell the truths from the lies, while I am aware that no good shall ever come of it?
Why does every inch of my body ache that way? There is no reason for the bruises I have all over my arms and legs, the lumps I have on both sides of my neck and the muscular strain I have in my ribs area other than my bad mood. I don’t need health problems damn it. I was once much healthier than that, and I miss it. I am not sure if this is my body’s way of telling me that there is more damage than I admit or just its normal way of getting rid of the negativity that had been there for some time.
Until I am done with all that mind, soul and body cleansing, I have decided not to fight whatever emotions I am feeling; instead, I will just accept them and try to move on. I am neither happy like I was a couple of weeks ago, nor sad and heartbroken like I was six months ago; I am just trying to move on with the least damage possible.
December 5, 2007
Your EQ is 107
You're a bit moody, and sometimes you have trouble coping with every day life.But you're by no means depressed, and your good days definitely out number your bad days.
There's nothing really wrong with your life, but you may not be living up to your actual potential.Negative emotions can be a real drain of your energy, so make sure you have them under control.
December 4, 2007
I tried to get closer, tell her stories that could help her with whatever she’s struggling to accept, even show her some of my scars to let her know that we all have those, but her response even scared me more.
I am left with too much confusion; I don’t know if I should pretend like I have no idea whatsoever, which I don’t, or give her special treatment that would not hurt her vulnerability.
Sometimes she gets on my nerves and I want to yell at her, but I try to hold back because I am afraid she’s too brittle to the extent that a thoughtless word would break her.
I hold back, not just because I cherish her dearly, but also because sometimes I wish people would do the same with me.
Back to her, I don’t think I want to know what happened, unless she wants to tell. All I want is to know she’s back on her feet and that her scar won’t hurt if people pour salt on it, because truth is, they will.
And to whoever or whatever caused her that much pain, I say: “HOW COULD YOU, she definitely did not deserve that!! She was in a place much better than I have ever been”. It boggles my mind because when my life fell to pieces I knew I was to blame for the mistakes I realize I’ve done along the way, but her; she was really pure! She has always been the better one.
Bottom line: I look at her, and I feel life is sad and unfair to some people. I look at her and think that sometimes people have to take what they can’t handle, and she definitely couldn’t handle whatever it is she took. I remember that nightmare I had of her almost three years ago that made me wake up screaming, and I feel this strong pain in my heart all over again.
December 3, 2007
But why? I have found my peace! I know what I don’t want; I know I don’t want him.
Why do I get startled each time he calls? Why does he come to my mind when people talk about relationships? And why do people ask me about him all the time? Will they stop asking if I tell them he’s a piece of shit that I no longer want to have anything to do with?
I no longer want to say his name or talk like we’re still married. I want to free my ring finger from him. I want to be able to forget wearing the ring before I go out without having my father glaring at me, reminding me I am still married. I remember, I remember all that; what I want is to forget.
Yes, I think I want to forget it ever happened. I want that memory wiped off my mind for good.
He’s become not just a bitter memory, but also a scary one. I have no reason why, but he scares the shit out of me. How can I fear him that way? I guess I fear him the same way I fear a cockroach. I know it can’t harm me, but I jump and scream hysterically when I see one.
I want my seven years back. I am willing to give away all the lessons I learned. I want my seven years back.
Yes, I am freaking out. The child in me is freaking out and I have no one to turn to for I have made everyone believe I am stronger than that and I am not willing to admit otherwise. I am not ok with anyone feeling sorry for me or worrying about me. No one can help me and I am well aware of that.
I want my seven years back like they never happened. This way I can have my nana back too, this way I would still be talking with K. I am willing to refund all the good stuff that happened in those seven years if I can have them back and start all over again.
I want to start all over again, instead of looking back and thinking “Once upon a tulip…”
December 2, 2007
It was the year where there was bombing activity in Hatshepsut Temple. I remember that because I kept telling my dad that his attempts to get us killed had escalated to a new level.
The trip was organized by his old friends from college; most of them are family friends to us. We were supposed to meet on an early morning, take a bus from Alexandria to Cairo, then take a Plane from Cairo to Aswan, where we take a Nile Cruise from Aswan to Luxor stopping by all the touristic places, and finally take a plane from Luxor to Cairo, and a bus back to Alexandria. You say why Alex… it’s because my dad is Alexandrian; hence, most of his college friends reside there.
It was around 10 friends of his in addition to their families which summed up to… I am not sure of the number, we were too many people, most of us already knew each other and it was FUN.
I spent 5 days barely sleeping at all, which is not new with my insomnia and all; the big deal was that I spent that time with people; we did all sorts of group games and had as much fun as I almost never had in one trip.
I will always remember my friend O and how the two us used to listen to the same albums each on her own walkman (I did say it was 10 years ago), O’s brother A and their cousin D fighting over who would sit next to N. Y being all charming like always and gathering all the girls and boys around him with his interesting stories and amazing sense of humor. K’s lovable smile and continuous sarcasm of his mother along with Y. A and N and their sweet baby mariam who is probably a teenager now, H and M with the cutest baby ever, youssef, whom I will always think of as the perfect child despite his uncle Y’s attempts to ruin that image by taking photos of him with bottles of alcohol. K’s freaky laugh, which would scare people away, and my two sisters, with their now-abandoned glasses looking extra nerdy as they walked around with books.
I will always remember the photos O and I took of Y whenever he did anything, like falling asleep in the bus, drinking water, getting out of his room in Pjs or even taking a pause on the toilet to see if we were gonna take that photo for real (which I did despite my laughter and strong urge to pee myself). I remember that the two of us had a crush on that guy but we were too proud to admit liking a guy because of his looks and charm.
I will always secretly wish to hurt my dad for removing all Y’s photos along with the rest of the photos with only the guys because ‘I got married, and my husband wouldn’t like to see that much photos of me with guys’. This reminds me, I want to ask him where he had put them, and he better not say he threw them away.
My dad told me a couple of weeks ago that we shall go on another trip to Luxor. The first words that came out of my mouth were: “I want the same group as the last time; it would be weird because we’re no longer teenagers and most of us have kids, but pleeeeeease tell your friends to join and bring their kids”.
Despite my hopes that the same people would join, or at least most of them, I know it will different, for all of us are 10 years older now. I am not sure I will be that happy this time, I am not sure I will be able to look O in the eye and tell her the husband is on a business trip when she asks me how come he didn’t join.
That’s the thing, as much as I love those people, I wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing my problems with them. None of them has known me well enough for me to do that, and it goes both ways. I think this is why we like hanging around each other; we remind one another of the good old innocent days when we were nothing but kids, before life gave us scars that we deny having when we are together.
If I had a choice, I would go back in time to relive that trip, and stay there.
November 29, 2007
Apparently the link hosting it is down or forever lost, which is a bit upsetting since it left me with not much choices; either I look for a new one, or leave my profile pictureless.
Thing is, I almost never know what I want for sure. I mean yeah, I decided some time ago that I will use tulips because of that sentimental value they provide, but I don’t have a specific photo in mind.
I tried browsing Google images for a while, but I couldn’t relate to any of the displayed images. I don’t want any representation of tulips in vases or tied in bunches; it felt wrong, those particular flowers do not belong there, they are not domestic roses. And I am not that much into real photos either, I prefer sketches or something. And I hate the number 3, all the ones I almost liked represented 3 tulips.
I know I said I didn’t know what I wanted, but I definitely know what I don’t want. Coming to think of it, I think this is the way I have always been! This is how I have always made my decisions: It may not be what I WANT, because I don’t even know it, but it is definitely not something I don’t want, because that I know.
Was it how I chose to study business? Yeah I guess, I knew I wouldn’t go to med school no matter what. Wasn't bad at all!
Was it how I picked my job? Yeah, I picked based on non-hectic environment and non-extendable working hours which I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle with my kids and all. Good decision I would like to believe.
I think the one time I said “that’s what I want” was when I was asked if I was sure about the husband!! Yep, my uncle K asked me after he first met him “habibty, he’s nice and all, but are you sure this is the one you want to spend the rest of your life with? Don’t get me wrong, I like him, but I want the best for you”, and I gave him that answer. Good thing I no longer talk to him that much, he’s the gloating type. In my defense though, I was never trained to know what I want, and that’s the closest I’ve been to knowing, or at least thinking I knew.
Note to self: never NEVER make decision based on what you think you want, old method works much much better.
This started with me being pictureless, but I got carried away (I do that a lot). Anyway, for now, until I find something I can relate to, I am pictureless.
November 27, 2007
This is what it would have been like if I had stayed in that marriage:
I would have never been a happy person. I have tried to put up with resenting him for two years after he first started having some sort of a girlfriend during his MBA, during my not so easy pregnancy with beano. In some sense, my lack of trust or tolerance made it easier for him to look for someone who would listen to him and tell him he’s right, even if it was just pretenses and lies. At least I know he will forever blame me for that.
Two extremely unhappy parents. That was what we offered. We would have always found reasons to disagree and fight for we have lost the reasons that brought us together. I loved him for the strong protective and loving man I thought he was, I had blind faith in him and I willingly compromised a lot to please him. He loved that naïve little girl who saw the world in him and yet somehow managed to be the mother he never had and always acknowledged he deserved nothing but the best. After his first incident, he was someone I could no longer trust, and I was the doubtful wife who always questioned his actions silently yet gave him accusing looks from time to time. Yeah, I realize men can’t handle that. Humans can’t handle that.
This would have resulted in a miserable mother, who is always crying when he’s not home, who is too busy to even notice her kids’ needs because she’s too absorbed in her own self-pity. A mother who would made her kids resent the father even if she doesn’t do it on purpose.
Him, he would have come home every day (like he did), too tired and exhausted to spend anytime with those two. He would shout and ask for some quiet so that he can sleep and on weekends he would be too busy figuring out ways to skip home.
We did that for a short period of time thank God. I will never forget the look on beano’s face whenever he saw me crying the way I did and kept patting me, the way he freaked out when he first saw us yelling at one another and me falling on the floor and not being able to stand up again. I will never forget the first day after he arrived from that business trip and started yelling at beano for getting his stuff out of the suitcase, worrying that it would make me notice something I was not supposed to see, the way beano cried, yet held on to his daddy because he missed him.
Every time I think of those two particular incidents, I am filled with hate towards him. It breaks my heart to remember how cruel he was to the two of us because it was the only way he could deal with his guilt, before he started making up lies and believing them. I am thankful my son shall not remember those days. Sometimes when I feel I am up to it, I over compensate by showing him photos of him and his daddy in the carrousel or in the pool or just having fun at home like they briefly did.
We would have earned the Worst Parents Award if we had stayed. I already think mocha is too restless and jittery because I was that tense during pregnancy. I am not even sure whether it’s good or bad that Mocha has zero recollection of his dad whatsoever. Not even a photo!
This is what my kids have now instead of a father:
An amazingly loving and adoring grand father, aka daDDoo. The way my father’s face lightens every time he’s playing with beano makes up for a lot. The way my father looks and sounds happy when mocha smiles at him is just priceless! Yes, he’s not that much of an authority figure anymore, not the way he was with us at least, but he does give beano the I-mean-business stare from time to time. I am wondering though, is it ok that my son is starting to refer to my dad as baba instead of daddoo? I think he’s copycatting us when we call him that.
The cutest and coolest aunties, Maat (aka aGGaa) and Goody (aka GoGo). Maat seats beano on her lap as she uses her laptop and plays the songs he likes. She holds mocha and moves as if they’re dancing as she sings to him. Goody lets beano listen to her mp3 player and teaches him new words every day, and sometimes even lets him play with her hair when he feels like it. She also keeps mocha’s company and takes photos of him as he crawls around and keeps telling him he has the most beautiful eyes, which she believes are hers.
One kind, yet somehow crazy grand mother, aka naNNa. Yeah, she adores them, despite all the loud yelling and whining; she loves them way too much. She would defend beano when I start giving him hard time, and try to explain to him how to behave, yet doesn’t get hurt when he shoos her away or gives her an angry dismissive “na2aa”. She would take care of mocha all day long and do her best to feed him and tolerate it when he insists on wiping his mouth on her shoulder, and I think this one appreciates her, for he gives her his warmest and most beautiful smile when he sees her walking by.
Moi, aka maMMa. I feel so small trying to think of my role. I love it when beano runs to my arms and I hold him so tight and sometimes even twirl, he pats me on the shoulder and kisses me on the cheek when he’s grateful. I ask him “meen habib mama?” he says “boMMba” and I kiss him. When he keeps nagging about something and I am too tired to do it, sometimes I lose my cool, but I make sure I make it up to him. When I start yelling at him for pulling my hair so hard when I am headachy, I hold him afterwards and try to explain that it hurts me too much when pulls my hair. I hold mocha as much as I can, sometimes he hugs back and my heart just melts. I play with him and tickle him and make him spend as much time laughing as I can to make up for all the crying he had to put with while in my womb. I wish I could do more. I wish I could control my temper and not lose it the way I do from time to time. I attend lectures on parenting, how to manage and release stress properly, and how to help kids express themselves so that I can be a better mom. People tell me it’s a good start, but I think they give me too much credit.
There are those other family members and friends that my beano recognizes and loves…
Brrrr; this is how he refers to my Uncle G, because of the sound he makes while they play together. He recognizes the brand of the car he drives and whenever he sees it he points at it and says “brrrr”
Maaa, my cousin’s adorable wife whom beano just adores, basically because he has an eye for pretty ladies and because she is way too nice to him and brought him colorful blocks that he now refers to as “kAAb” (I have no idea why)… whenever asked “who brought you those?”, he’d say “Maaa”
Oaaa, yeah Ola, he did say your name once or twice when I asked him who bought him the goungoun (ball) and the aanaan (car), I ask him “u like Ola?”, he nods :)
Heeeba, one of my best friends, who now he mentions her name whenever he sees us getting ready to go out and say “Heeeba, baaaaye??” I tell him “no, we’re not seeing Heeba today” he says “Heeba, aaanaan” as to say he wants to ride in her car, which he also recognizes its brand now!
He happens to recognize D’s photo over facebook and kisses it when he sees it. She’s surprised he knows her at all for he totally ignored her back before she left the country!
Let’s not forget…
The big 3ann3ann. My dad’s driver, who taught my son the whole aanaan concept; now every car or motorcycle is aanaan, and so is the guy.
Daaadaaa, the maid who slacks around the house because she’s busy playing goungoun (football) with him, which makes naNNA go kookoo.
I think missing a father who wouldn’t even bother stopping by to check on them is not something to miss having. I don’t mean to trash him. As a matter of fact I know that one day he might come to his senses and realize how much he lost for not taking the time to bond with them. However, I don’t feel that sorry for him anymore.
The little voice in my head just worries about the time when my kids are around 6 or whatever age kids realize other children have daddies while they don’t! I am leaving whatever answer I shall give them to then; perhaps then, he would be involved, not that I am counting much on it.
I had no idea it would be that long! I should do word count from now on.
November 25, 2007
Ok, I love her, underneath that much anger and lack of self control that shows when I join her in her yelling contest, I do!! She just can’t stop getting on my nerves and pushing all the wrong buttons.
You would think that knowing and accepting who she is and what she’s like would make things easier to handle, but nooooo, she’s creative that way!!
Why would she keep telling me things like “manty elly gebteholna”, has she no idea how hurtful this could be? Doesn’t she get that when I say something mean in return, it’s basically because I was hurt? Moreover, doesn’t she get that I have even worse answers that I do my best to keep just for myself?
Why would she keep whining about how tired she is? Is it to tell me that it’s because of me? Because when I try to offer help or take the kids for the day out to give her sleeping time, or just private time, she acts like I betrayed her!! I even offered to take her out shopping or whatever, I got the you’re-acting-out-of-guilt lecture!
How about I am acting out of gratitude? How about responsibility? How about even sympathy? Yeah there is a little guilt in there ma, but it’s because it’s all you can enforce!! I offered to bring over a nanny to make things easier and give her the supervisor role, but she said the maid already kept her on her toes and that she DID NOT need more intruders!
When I am home, I try my best to take the load off, I know my best isn’t much, but guess what, I am tired too! I have headaches that won’t go away, which I stopped even complaining about, I get chest pains from time to time and I won’t start talking about the backaches or the knee pain because I feel pathetic already about all that.
And stop complaining woman! All have their problems, my sisters have problems, my dad has problems, and the maid has her own set of problems!! Try; just try to be thankful for whatever little health you wouldn’t acknowledge having… I have friends whom their moms have some serious shit and don’t complain half as much, and I try my best not to compare you against them because it’s not ok! So stop comparing me to your imaginary ideal friends’ daughters and count the things I am actually good at. And when I tell you “e7medy rabena, some people have it much worse” don’t give me the “ya3ne enty 3ayzaha teb2a worse for me” I mean, when you insist on being miserable, miserable is all you shall ever be, trust me; been there!!
Despite that I keep telling her all that, she just never listens or understands that I do say it with love.
On the soon to be x…
Seriously, what’s wrong with you!! Do you need a slap on the face, a punch maybe? Would this bring you back to your forever lost senses??? What it is that you need??? I may not be able to give it; for you could burn in hell for all I care, but just go dump your shit elsewhere and let me fix the damage you caused and do all it takes to stop having angry thoughts when I think of you.
What’s with the “you look amazing, and cute” wtf, we’re meeting COURT to revoke the TA3A thing, remember??? When I gave it time to think what to wear, it was not to impress you, you moron. If the smiles and the warm welcomes is to impress the government officials, then let me tell you, you lost your audience when you started offending my lawyer, my dad and saying you were gonna flea the country and remarry!! You lost the audience when you started claiming you were paying off your late father’s debt yet talk about your new German-made car. I kinda thought you were a bit smarter than that!! But as it turned out, I know nothing when it comes to you.
So how did it feel when you could break my shell for those five minutes I looked down and took the time to wipe my eyes and my cheeks? Did you feel some kind of sick victory for seeing that you still have it in you to make me cry? Or did you feel guilty because somewhere under the piles of scum, there lays a conscious that is aware of what you did and hopefully haunts you from time to time about it??
Why did you ask how the kids were doing? Was it to hear my voice soften when I speak of them because you could no longer hear it that way when I am talking to you? Was it because you knew that this is my one weak point, the one way you could still get to me? Or was it because you were genuinely concerned about them? I don’t think it’s the last one; a concerned father would have done things much differently.
Believe it or not, even when I ask those questions, I no longer care the way I used to about what the answers are. I stopped trying to understand and analyze, I even stopped trying to split you in two. I even stopped seeing any trace of you when I look at my kids. When I look at them, they look like young me, my sisters or my dad, sometimes mocha moves his eyebrows like uncle K, but neither of them reminds me of you anymore, and I am grateful.
I thought of calling you yesterday when beano started coughing and throwing up and I had to rush him to the ER. I felt that desperate and helpless! My own son, throwing up all over me and crying and saying my name and all I could think of was “should I call him?”. But I did not. Care to know why? You’re the hysteric one, remember? I am the one who would call the doctor, explain to her how his cough and vomit are like, understand her advice, and have it applied at the hospital accordingly. I am the one who would hold the boy and not mind the vomit. I am the one who would postpone all the drama until I know he’s stabilized, and then start fighting over what could have been done better.
You have no idea what it’s like really, although you always said it was your responsibility to do everything, it never really was, I just gave you too much credit for everything because it wasn’t credit I wanted for myself.
You have no idea what it’s like to worry that much about a son and try every denial tactic you hcan think of to convince yourself that bad things happen to other people only, and that your kid will be ok, will be ok, and that he won’t suffer from any sever damage for the rest of his life.
Yesterday, I could handle the ER trip, with my sister’s help. If I ever need more help, I have better people in my life who would offer it and give it, and I will never be too proud to ask for help when I need it concerning those two, the way I usually am when it comes to me. I will just never ask it of you because, help will never be what you have to offer or give.
So, next time you see me, don’t pretend like you wish things were better for you have done nothing to make them better. Don’t tell me I looked nice or ask me when I got those shoes or what was wrong with my left eye. Don’t ask about the kids and if beano remembered you still or if mocha started to look any different. Don’t do that cheap attempt of making me feel vulnerable because I have to talk about them like they were orphans. Better yet, leave the country, go get married and start a new life, and forget all about those two kids, and forget about me. We don’t need you. We don’t.
November 22, 2007
Further to our last communication, kindly be informed of the following:
I know that every time you see my name on your mail box, or hear my voice over the phone you wish you could have taken the day off, I know.
I even know that you may find my writing style in most of my emails obnoxious and offensive, and I know you sense the attitude and hostility in my tone over the phone as I go on explaining my point of view over and over and yet over again.
Nonetheless, please understand…
That if it were up to me, I would have chosen a different organization to provide me with this kind of service, and spared you the trouble,
That if it were up to me, I would have personally called the idiot who developed your organization’s lame @$$ system and gave him a piece of my mind,
Moreover, kindly be advised that…
I understand that you follow a system that you cannot ignore just to please me,
I understand that you cannot improve the service your organization provides all by your self,
I understand what it’s like to be in your shoes and have that much emails claiming to be urgent that you have to reply to asap but simply do not have the time to because people keep calling you in asking when you shall answer their emails! I’ve been there…
Accordingly, do not hate me or curse at me beneath your teeth as I go on and on saying how unprofessional and inappropriate the service your organization provides is; it’s not personal, and if you ever happen to meet me in person, you’ll know I am a much nicer person.
Kindly accept my sincere apology and acknowledgement for what you do.
A pissed off client.
Needless to say that a pirate was ruled out and I won't even begin explaining why! (Shh Maat). Also the burglar wasn't something I wanted him to dress as, since well, let's say he has enough potential for that and I did not want to encourage it :)
My dad would not spare a tie for the nerdy look (the man has lost count of how many ties he has, yet he'd actually recognize if one was missing!!), and I won't begin talking about the shirt... men are weird that way!!
Could not find a cowboy hat (and didn't find a pair of cowboy boots either, maat) although we already had the plaid shirt and the matching bandanna and could have managed to find a rope! (bummer)
I even asked baba for his old construction hat, but his reply was "enty habla walla eh", and it wasn't in the form of a question!!
So basically, my attempts to be as creative as possible miserably failed since I could not find the stuff I needed.
All this was to prepare you for the final result
I got a jester's hat, and face paint...
I Dressed him in the most colorful top he has (one sleeve orange, the other has multi colors stripes and all, which seemed to boggle his mind for a while!).
He did not let me paint his face (I did mention he has too much ego for a kid his age, haven’t I?), so I wiped off the red nose & chin, and sent him wearing that colorful top with the hat that chimes.
I took a couple of photos, but they weren't great since he wanted to leave with my sis and kept shooing me away, will post one if he decides to let me take more photos when I pick him up.
I have a very strong feeling he would have resented me if I had used the face paint, I am even worried that one day when he's all grown up, he'd think the jester's hat was not a great thing to make a photo record of... I don't care, as his mother; I am entitled to cause some kind of damage, no?
November 21, 2007
So his teacher told me there is a Costume Party tomorrow. It’s worth mentioning she told me so two days ago; only I have been busy with other stuff and planning to think of his costume today.
I am not familiar with stores that sell costume wear for kids’ parties and stuff, but I think I have a couple of places on mind that I can check. However, I would like to handle that thing as creatively as possible since this is as much challenge as I get, so I have to make the best of it.
So I’ve had a couple ideas that I discussed with Goody, Maat & Nephthys...
- Maat she really really really wants beano to dress as a pirate!! I have no idea how I can make him look like one, I know I can buy an eye-patch from a pharmacy, but that’s it. So Maat, if you have a clue how to get the rest of the costume, do it, you have my consent!! (oh oh oh, maat, we have that parrot thing, the one mocha plays with)
- I thought we could send him to the party as a cross-dresser… you know, he would love to wear high heels and a purse, and I am not sure he’d mind a skirt and make-up!! But I kinda think (actually I am sure) this could scar him for life, so pass.
- Goody suggested Superman, but instantly withdrew the suggestion when I started laughing for she realized the red underpants would definitely scar him even more.
- I also kinda thought of that nerdish look I’ve seen so many times in pictures for kids my son’s age… you know the one with big shirt with sleeves, the tie (we can take both from baba), the glasses (I can buy those from any kids’ store)..
- I also thought of cupid!! He still wears diapers anyways, so it won’t be extra embarrassing or anything! We can get feathers or even wings from wherever! He’d love to hold a bow too, he’s aggressive that way!! However, I think it’s too cold for that, may be in the summer…
- Finally, Maat came up with another suggestion: a Darweesh—(not sufi darweesh, rather magnoon darweesh kinda look)-- homeless darweesh… baba’s pj top (yeah it’s the cliche pin-striped ones in all Egyptian movies), we can tie a rope around his hip for an extra bahdala effect, and we have soo many seba7-- worry beads, and we can always put some dirt on his face, he’d love it! Let’s not forget that he likes listening to the call for prayers and he can do the whole act… hehehe…
I know I know, at this point, I am not even sure my sisters and I provide the best environment for either of my kids to grow up and become healthy adults.
So people, any suggestions… I know it is short notice, I should have asked a couple of days earlier, but that’s the case now! I could use any real suggestions before I go shopping tonight for whatever needed.
November 20, 2007
Ok, not serious serious, but it is a problem... kinda!
Whenever I am spoken to in any Arabic accent other than the Egyptian accent, I get that very VERY stupid blank look on my face, like I was disconnected or something!!
I've had it in my previous job where I had lots of Palestinian and Jordanian colleagues, who usually ended up communicating with me in English to make sure I fully understood them.
English accents, I actually understand most of them, or at least I make that effort!
Even French, I listen well, and get the meaning when I fail to understand each word.
I guess my Arabic skills need to be worked on. Actually I knew that, I just did not expect to get that blank when a guy asks me in his own accent "How do you do? I hope you like it here."... I don't even remember how he said it! as in the Arabic/Khaleeji words for it!!
This does not sound right because I have lived in Egypt all my life! I have been to a school where people spoke nothing but Arabic outside the class, that whenever I spoke English outside the classroom (sometimes even inside it), I was ridiculed!!! Which makes me wonder how I got here?!!!
November 19, 2007
They are back safely, all kids present, and when I specifically asked about my cuteness, I was told he was happy and "meza2tat". YEEEEY *insert fireworks and such*
I can't wait till it's 4 so that I can go pick him up and ask him questions about his trip to which he would answer "aaannnn annn" or "aaah eeeeeh" or try to explain with his made-up sign language.
Counting the minutes... well, not really, I am too busy to even write the post, just wanted to thank those who advised me to send him... Thank you people...
November 16, 2007
Ok, I’ve been having headaches over this among other things, and since I don’t wanna talk about the depressing $#it the husband is doing, I will talk about this hoping I would get some help from whoever reads this.
Beano’s nursery have arranged a trip (somewhere close enough and I know it’s a place he enjoys going to), where he is supposed to experience being with people other than his family members and have fun, and eat pizza (which is his favorite or the only kind of food he can actually say its name).
My parents are all for it, actually they were very enthusiastic about it. My sisters got excited, and as I was telling a friend of mine, she was like “that’s a good idea”. Then what the hell is wrong with me????!!!
Ok, I will try list my fears and concerns that I haven’t been able to share all of them due to my lack of concentration…
- He barely says words that make sense, so if he gets lost (yeah, in my head, there isa big chance he would) he would not be able to express himself; if he figured out he was lost to start with! For God’s sake, when asked his name, he smiles and says proudly “boMMba”.
- With all the kids with them, he might get himself hurt or something or get another bruise, which will immediately make me switch nurseries after killing the person in charge.
- I am worried his dad would somehow know about the trip or even be around the same place and takes him to cause more drama than there already is. I need to clarify that my son would do the “babaaaaaa”-and-throw-himself-at-his-dad movie theme.
There was one more point, but the headache and my mom yelling in the background is making it impossible for me to remember (SHHHHH mama, ufff ba2a).
So you think I am paranoid? I say I have quite a vivid imagination, and I can already see scenarios that end with me crying like hell and saying his name hysterically. I know the last point is a bit farfetched but hey, it could happen; I never thought his father would ever behave that way.
Ok, so I wrote all I could think of right now (considering that I have strong urges to go yell back at my mom, and I was chatting with D because it’s the first time we’ve both been online since two weeks ago). So, I will leave a poll up there and I will appreciate having some comments from people telling me to snap out of the crazy mom thing I am feeling before Sunday at 4 since it is the deadline for giving my confirmation.
I think I will go fight with mama now.
November 15, 2007
On exam weeks, hell, on the exam night, I would do anything but study! Just read some points and that would be it! Even when working on projects, I’d keep them for the last minute, pull an all-nighter and voila, done! Some of my more hysteric colleagues used to say I was ‘7aloufa’ (insensitive), but I always thought that getting that kinda worried will only make me screw up. Of course my palms would sweat like crazy during the exam, but it was ok, even when they got ice-cold once my sweat glands decided to take a nap.
I get into some kind of euphoria whenever I am expecting something to happen. When it’s something I dread I do my best to keep myself busy with something else. I am good at finding distractions, I’ve been told.
Today, I have an important important meeting. The headache has gotten so much worse since yesterday. I’ve tried wearing my long abandoned glasses, took too much panadol, but the headache only gets worse; moreover, I think the panadol gave me nausea!
Yesterday before I fell asleep, I felt troubles breathing due to what appeared to be some kind of pain in my ribs! Now, it’s hitting again making it ache like hell every time I breathe in. and I think my colon is sending me messages that it is not happy with all that drama. AND my palms are sweating, which is not fair; I used to be ok with it since it was the only way my body reacted to that kind of pressure, now, it’s just too much.
Weird thing is that I know it will be ok, I know that worst case scenario, things will remain the way they are for the time being, so since when do I get that anxious?? I guess I’m growing old. I wanna be 18 again.
November 14, 2007
Today, as I carried beano all the way to where I parked the car last night (he has a bruise on his left eye; hence, entitled to all forms of spoiling--- long story), I got in the car, fastened his seatbelt, and as I was sitting properly to fasten mine, I saw what appeared to be a duct tape on my wind shield blocking proper vision from my driver seat!!
I got out of the car to remove it, only to find out it was not duct tape; it was in fact, some kind of cheep brownish material glued with some kind of dirty super glue to my windshield. Across the street there was a double parked Cherokee and a Lanos. I think my car was taking the place that belonged to either one of them!!
What the hell?? They didn’t have to do that!! I mean it was an honest mistake, and I did mean to change where the car is parked! Moreover, strangers were parking where I usually park my car and I didn’t complain. I understand that it is the street and people who have cars may need to leave their cars there because they do not have the time to keep driving around until they find a proper parking space; it’s better than double parking! And for the love of God, there was no garage or even a note saying it was a private space!!
Would it have been too much trouble to leave me a note on my windshield beneath the wipes or something, even if it had some language in it!!! A few months back, I parked my car in front of the building right next to ours and found a note the next day asking me politely not to park there again; I never did. I would drive around the house for 5 minutes, and sometimes 10 with that parking space empty, but I would not park there because I was asked politely!
Now, I had to drive all the way to my kid’s nursery and back while constantly leaning to my right side and left side to make sure I have a clear vision. Almost hit a pedestrian who had probably just had fool for breakfast and expected me to stop as he decided to cross the street the moment I was passing by.
I really hope it could be cleaned up nicely because I don’t wanna get pissed off over something so trivial, but I know I probably will if the stain decides to remain for a couple of days.
So here is what I have been planning to do as payback on my way home. The brilliant idea hit me as my son was handling me his empty milk box to throw in my small garbage pack I keep in the car. Every weekend, I will empty my small pack right in that parking space!! I am not sure however it’s enough punishment, since my pack barely has empty candy wraps and juice boxes!! Ok, there might be some mucus infested napkin as well, but I think whoever did this to my car deserves more.
Any suggestions people?? I thought of getting some of mocha’s stinky poopy diapers, but I figured I’d be too disgusted to carry them all the way there. I don’t wanna do something that would harm anybody’s car, like scratching it or putting small nails that can ruin the tires or anything; I just want whoever did that to get pissed off and wish he could have handled it in a civil manner.
November 12, 2007
Even when I went home yesterday to find out about the notification you sent, which stated that you were only obliged to pay for public school fees as much as the kids (your kids by the way) are concerned!! I got pissed for a split second, and then thought “How typical! Desperate to get on my nerves and to get a reaction out of me”.
Later, as I was laying in bed, right before I dosed off, I kinda thought to myself “Did he even consider –just consider- for a split second there what the kids would think or feel if they are ever to find out about that notification, well in addition to the ta3a notification”!! I guess not! But if you did not consider, how come you took the time to think of that kind of action? Why am I asking those questions anyway?? It’s not like any answer I would come up with would justify your behavior or how you could just.. I don’t know, be you!!
I see fathers –including my own (whom I’ve had serious troubles dealing with as a child and teenager)- and I think if it is fair that my kids will not be able to have one (yes, this sounds like the way you chose it to be, and boy will you regret it one day!) Then, my senses tell me in a very strong tone “This is not the father your kids deserve to have, as a matter of fact, this is not any kind of figure your kids should have in their lives. They deserve much better than a spineless coward who would only know how to hide behind legal work, instead of visit and hold them in his arms to realize that he actually needs them more than they do”.
And then, I log onto my mail account and find a job vacancy forwarded to me by you with a note wishing me luck!!
So here is what I have to say about that (in addition to the whole post actually):
“You can save all your wishes and words and everything to the day your kids are old enough to reject having you for a father. And no, I will NOT be the one telling them all about you; in fact, your behavior and actions are crystal clear even to the 2 year old who will lose that memory of yours in time, and to the 6 month old who has no memory of you to start with”
There is a lot more I would say, but “kel el ahadeeth ma betfeed”… and that’s the only phrase that applies from that song.
November 8, 2007
And so, I am tagging all those who read my answer, if they feel like it since I try to not be pushy or anything… (yeah right)…
1- What is your blog name?
My screen name however is Insomniac
2- Why did you chose that name?
Oblivia-- Because I keep my thoughts here to get them out of my system where no one in real life has access to them (except for a few people whom I don’t mind them reading my blog). Before I started talking about my personal life, the definition was more exact, but now, it’s a crazy mix and thoughts don’t come here to be forgotten, rather recorded or something.
AND, I am a sucker for words that both describe my mood and have the letter “L”… it could be some suppressed memory from childhood or something. Oblivious was one; hence, Oblivia…
Insomniac-- Yes, I am an insomniac in real life! I have a messed up sleeping pattern as well, and I am a light sleeper when I finally get some sleep!!! I’ve come to choose it because when I first started blogging I’d write and publish my posts during my insomnia hours after midnight.
Why two of them? I like having more than one item of everything, I am weird that way, or perhaps it’s my geminian nature or something!!
Not facing one another because I am two different personalities when it comes to strangers, here I am the real me, and in real life, strangers see a sweet quiet person who doesn’t share much of her opinions, until she gets comfortable and then they regret making her feel comfortable enough, like the rest of my friends do :)
As for white, I have nothing against the color, just couldn’t relate to other pictures of tulips the way I did with that one, and they only had it in white. Never gave it a though what my color of preference would be though!!
I feel like I have no real life (which my younger sister would gladly agree to) for putting that much thought in my blogging identity and actually take that much time to explain it.
November 5, 2007
I try to look professional, for all I know I look my age, I even have two kids of my own, so when I run into an old friend of my dad’s or his friend’s son who happen to be like 10 years older, and they behave like I am barely 6 saying “OMG keberty awy” or “ana faker lama konty ad keda” and pointing to his knee length... not cool, actually, 3eeb awy ba2a, it’s not like you would enjoy it if you were in my place!! And it gets worse when it is mentioned that I have two kids, they insist “but it feels like yesterday when you were that tiny something”. One of them actually said something like “eh da, el mawadee3 lammet, 7atta el 3eyal ba2o mamahat”!! ok, he didn’t say it that way, I have full copyrights of the word ‘mamahat’ and in the guy’s defense, baba says that phrase a lot to people who are even older than me.
Now that guy walked in and I thought he knew my name because he had been told to expect meeting with me, and I am thinking to myself he’s extra friendly!! Then he introduces himself as Uncle… instead of Mr. … and I am wondering to myself, I don’t look like I still go to school or anything!!! Then he tells me the bonus phrase “salemeely awy 3ala baba we mama”… I think to myself “noway, 7araaaaaaam”!!
Ok, that’s much much better than my sister’s shorba.
November 1, 2007
He was so adorable and cute when the lady tried to lure him out of the reception area (aka parents’ area) and he kept giving her blank yet arrogant looks as to say “do I even know u?”!!
I was so proud of him when he stayed all the time I waited out side without crying. I was even prouder when I called and was informed that he hasn’t cried at all and that he was a good boy and did not cause trouble.
Well, truth be told, my ego was a bit bruised to know that he can do without me and that he didn’t even miss me enough to cry!! So why did my mom always call whenever I was late saying “yalla ta3aly, beano monhar”… teegy teshoof el enheyar. I blame her for that ego-bruise, edetny akbar men hagmy.
Oh my God, I wanna call again, but I don’t wanna sound like the magnouna kinda mom I used to call my colleague at work. It’s 90 minutes until 4, what else can I do to distract myself?
My friend H tells me she’s happy for me, for I am finally moving on with my life and doing the things I have been putting on hold because of my marital problems. I told her that I was having the same thought as I was driving back from the nursery today. However, I kinda felt bad when I thought how the husband is too ignorant and indifferent to even know what’s going on with his own bundle of cuteness who keeps saying “baba” every time he sees something that relates to him. GooGoo says the husband is a sad sad person and Rabina yehdeeh… at this moment, I can’t help but hope he’d be out of our lives for good if he can’t be of any good being part of it.
Yooh, lessa fadel sa3a we nos!!! I miss my BooBoo.
October 28, 2007
I have heard that phrase from so many men so far, I am starting to think it’s agreed upon! I was surprised it was even said to me by my dad and my uncle, who are both smarter than their wives, yet not as happily married as one would expect given how wise they both are.
So to any guy who stumbles upon this post, let me know the truth here… stating your age would help!
October 23, 2007
So here is a chat session between my sister Maat and I on that matter… enjoy!
me: fe had fel denia yessamy hadana: atfal bela hodood
eh dah ?!
me: why why why would they call a nursery Barbie
ya3ne ebny ye’ool ana fe Barbie!!!!
Maat: barbie ????????
no waaay! maybe it's a girls nursery ??!!!
me: lol, that would be even more freaky
i won't call them
tab ye2olo barbie we gijoe lol
bananas in pajamas!!!!!!
Maat: oh that's fun
bananas in pajamas is fun, call them up
me: i am writing the list men ala el yellow pages, then i will call
i am picking elly hawalaya ashan malefesh el sob7wana bawadeeh
Maat: beeso? de nursery /
la2 msh 7elwa
betfakarny b beesa, w beesa betfakarny b ayda ryad...
me: lol aslan maktoob enaha fe share’ el nasr,
i am guessing it doesn't even have a play ground
i will call aslan kol elly hawalaya,
elly hasterayahlohom over the phone, i will personally check them out
Maat: yeah that's a good idea
me: fe had yesamy hadana cheers ashan yetla3o sokareya
me: at least that's what my mind wandered to
Maat: hey that's actually not so bad a name
me: it’s not really, i personally like it…
Maat: enta fein ya bomba
ana f cheers, he would say "tstheers"
tom & Jerry kids al amerekeya,
do i get special discount cause bomba looks like jerry
Maat: bomba doesnt look like jerry anymore, he looks meaner
me: heeey is it weird that i don't like el hadana cause esmaha tip top
i remember walking by it bas mesh fakra fein
Maat: tip top is better than beeso
Maat: okay,u checked kidiology sah ?
me: yep, earlier... but didn't check if they still have room for him after ramadan
i don't think it would be a problem tho
Maat: i like the name a lot!!!
me: now i like how this one sounds: Granny’s
easy to pronounce for bomba and sounds homey
Maat: granny’s is cozy yeah,where's that
me: in maadi,in my area of preference kaman!!
fakra el hadana elly kanet fe share’ wahib doos?
kanet fe villa
now i really liked that one, too bad it's no longer there
Maat: so where exactly is kidiology?
esma3y de: dIcky duck, lol
Maat: ya3ny eh
me: maktooba keda in arabic letters
this is baad!!
me: i suppose they meant ducky duck
which isn't that much better if u ask me
Maat: it's..... dumb.... DUMB and baaad
me: seriously, ppl should give those things more thought...
kids are messed up already
and they should not name them gender biased names
Maat: poor kids
me: sadeeq al tefl barney!!!!
that's a name ???????
sadeeq el tefl barney ?
again i raise the question..
what about those with a slightly weak "qaf" ?
w ba3den aslan el 3eyal de msh bete3raf tetkalem awy
me: yeah, that's the problem
Too bad Maat was disconnected before I told her about some of the feedbacks I got over the phone… will share them later!!
October 23, 2007
October 18, 2007
I would have cursed and cursed, kicked the floor, and then broke into angry tears when I found that my anger is not changing a thing…
And when I had gotten just a little bit less angry, I would have started thinking “WHY do bad things happen to good people? Why do assholes always get their way?” (questions that led to serious faith crisis at a time)… I would keep asking myself that without any real answers, probably because the question wasn’t well structured to start with…
I would have even promised not to be good if that meant I would have my way… (I have actually proven that I am a complete failure when it comes to being mo’zeya)…
Those were my angry times… when I used to get angry at all my surroundings and even myself… I still get angry, I do… I think I just learned how to control it for I have come very close to knowing why wrath is one of the seven deadly sins… Anger IS dangerous… it cost me too many things, but I think it cost me things I didn’t really have to begin with.
There is more to the angry me, I just think it needs more space… and I am not ready to disclose that much for now…
NOW… when the same things that used to make me angry happen, I remember what my uncle once told me when I asked him how to manage my anger “say: a3otho b’Ellah men al shytan el rajeem, etwaddy we sally, ala be thekr Ellah tatma’en al koloob”… sometimes I am in a situation where I can’t pray at the very moment, so I keep saying du’aa and mean them….
Back in my angry days, I would have told myself that mere du’aa words will not take away the injustice, but now I think I know better… I think I needed to have more faith to believe that there is a reason things like that happen, and that they will take the time God intends for them to take, and all I have to do is keep my faith, be patient (a virtue that I am trying so hard to learn), and do my best not to do or say things that would make me less deserving of whatever good that awaits me…
I tell myself that whatever unfairness I may be subjected to is well deserved for all the angry times, I tell myself that if that’s the way I would make up with God, then I am willing to take it… a good friend of mine once told me “enty rabena beyeghselek, so khody thawab and be patient, it is worth it… being patient is hard, you know el sabr morr; this is why esmo sabr, from sabbar… don’t worry, it will be over soon, just khody thawab el sabr until it is”… thank you friend.
So now, with all that is to come, I tell myself this: he cannot harm me… he can try, and I may think he did for a while for he will gloat about it and probably even celebrate it… for a while… until all my dues are paid I guess… but I believe I will not lose, I will not lose the things that matter, for since I have come to my senses, I have only acted with good intent and that can never go unrewarded… I may not be able to see the reward, but if I can’t see it, I won’t let myself be blinded again by the injustice I may feel.
Let this be something for me to read over and over when it gets tougher and harder to handle, for I know it will… I won’t hide my fears; I will face them, and I will try to be patient… I will keep reminding myself that life isn’t unfair; we make it that way when we are unfair to one another and to ourselves, so I will remain fair and I will stick to whatever values I have…
On another note, this should have been my 5 year anniversary… bala kheiba :)
October 18, 2007
October 17, 2007
I cried, I begged, I prayed, and then I cried some more… he felt his strength and he was stupid to push even more…
I tried to sleep, but instead, I hallucinated for a couple of hours -if not less- until my dad walked in the room and asked me to join him in the living room…
As I was waking up, the vibration of my cell phone disturbed me again, it was him… I answered… he asked why I haven’t been answering the past hours I said “ta’bana” in a very exhausted voice… he said “we lama enty mesh ad fighting with me, why do u do it… don’t you get it, you will only get hurt”… I found nothing to say, what’s the point anyway!!
My dad walked in again, asked me if it was him, I nodded, he said in a voice loud enough for him to hear “hang up with him, mafeesh kalam khalas, feeh mahakem, howa daya’ forset el zoo2”… I hesitated, and then hung up…
I am scared… this is a desperate man, he wants to cause harm, and for all I care he is capable of it… not necessarily by actions, words cause more harm, at least to me… and his words, well they scar me… it’s hard to admit, but they do… they will keep echoing in my head till I go insane or something…
Why did he push so hard? Why does it seem like he wants to break me? I don’t care what he does with his life; I just want him out of mine… I am tired…
Now two days have passed, and I am not to answer any of his calls… and boy does he keep calling…
Every time I hear his ring tone (khasara 3aleik for Souad Massi), my stomach clenches… I silence the phone. All my system blocks for a while; my eyes get blurry and my head gets clouded with thoughts and I shake my head so hard but my neck kinda hurts. Actually my physical state sucks these days, I even started having those marks I get when I am upset… great!!!
I feel too many emotions; hate, fear, anger, resentment, anxiety, helplessness, weakness, restlessness… and now as I read his more polite / less offensive messages I feel pity!!
Yes, I feel sorry for him (despite the strong hate and anger)… I feel sorry because I can no longer have any good feelings for him… I feel sorry I will no longer talk myself into forgiving him for he wasted all the chances I tried giving…
He mistook my kindness for weakness, and I am no longer capable of being kind; it’s out of my hands now… I am scared of what will come, I really am!