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.