Mafeesh Fayda!!

I'm joking and laughing as if there were no tears a while ago!

I'm telling myself that it was no big deal and that I better stop obsessing and move on already!

I'm too stubborn to allow myself to ache and take time to heal, God forbid I would collapse in the healing process, hasn't he said that in my stubbornness lies my strength!

So I lock it in, stand up and pretend nothing ever happened, it's easier, comme d'habitude!

I do it knowing that I am just burying something that will rise later to haunt me, and I am saying it's ok; I'll be stronger by then!!

But I know it will hit me when I need to be strong to make me weaker...

Yet I'm doing what I do best, I laugh and change the subject with a witty joke!!

In retrospect

The movie…

He looked like him. In real life, he doesn’t; just the petite structure and the haircut and the little beard.

He behaved like him. Not exactly, just the humor and the charm and the selfishness, only in real life he showed more kindness that hid the selfishness, kindness that made all his mistakes forgiven.

He reminded me of him when he shaved off that hair. Only in real life, he had bigger brown eyes, and higher cheekbones, the features we share.

I cried because under layers of years that hold anger, contempt and disappointed, I realized that I missed him.

The club…

I needed someone who would charm my boys and play with them like he did with me, I thought of him.

I needed someone who’d throw a punch for me without thinking of consequences, I thought of him.

I needed someone who’d hold me and tell me that it will be ok, and I realized I needed him, not him him, the him I thought he was.

The restaurant…

I finally talked about it, it was too clear in my head that I missed him and I needed him. I knew I did because I was vulnerable. Alhamdulilah, I had a great friend to listen.

I didn’t say how he disappointed me, I don’t think I really remember anymore, but I still don’t forgive him, and I know for a fact that I would never tell him how I miss him or need him if we ever talk again, not that I think we ever will.

Yesterday…

I kept going back to that little girl; I envied and pitied her for all she had…

She had the warm loving arms that she appreciated…

She had safe arms that she missed and idealized…

She had warm, loving, safe and overprotective arms that she resented and couldn’t appreciate…

She didn’t see things clearly. Like the movie, she needed lots of time to figure things out for what they really are, but in her case, a lifetime…

A lifetime where she stopped hanging around the warm loving arms that she loved until they were no longer there to hold her…

A lifetime of mistakenly believing in the safety of the arms she missed to realize that those arms were nothing but a heartbreaking disappointment…

A lifetime of avoiding and rejecting the warm, loving, safe and overprotective arms that she couldn’t bear, now, all she wishes she could do is hide in those arms and cry all those lost years… but she’s afraid… afraid of all the questions, afraid of the tears, afraid of being overwhelmed… but most of all, terrified of losing those arms the moment she surrenders to them…

A lifetime full of stupid mistakes she did because she never turned to those arms...

Yesterday, all I wanted was to run in those arms and cry, but I didn’t want the questions that I couldn’t answer and I didn’t know how to show my vulnerability, so I didn’t… I couldn’t even cry on my own…

Right now…

Tears keep flowing with every word I type! I am not crying, tears just fall out of my eyes hurting my eyes but not easing my soul.

And I still feel unable to find the words that tell any of it, it’s too hard to describe it to begin with…

I miss when my pain could find its way out without me looking for words, and I miss him and how he could have fixed me… I take a glimpse at my little mementos and try to remember his words to guide me, but I feel too confused right now…

I’m trying to learn from all the things that revealed themselves in the past days, trying to figure out how to fix myself so that I would not repeat any of my mistakes.

I don’t want to compile unpleasant experiences and lock them. I don’t want to pretend they never happened and they never affected me until they find the chance to haunt me and mess up my life like tides ruin sand castles… I want my life to be more than sandcastles, and I have no idea how…

Arms that once held me…

I remember arms that held me so tight, arms where I found warmth, love and unconditional love, arms that felt ever tender, arms where I wish I could have stayed forever. I miss those arms, I miss how they smelled and how loved I felt in them, every night before I sleep, I pray I’d have those arms around me in my sleep like they held me long ago…

I remember other arms, arms that felt like home, arms that I missed for so long and lingered for with tears only to be wrapped in them for brief minutes before yet another separation, arms that disappointed me like no other. As genuine as it was then, it lost its meaning now for I didn’t know better. I miss those arms, I wish they lasted, but I would never want them back…

And there were arms I thought were mine, arms I thought would never forsake me, arms where I thought I felt safe and loved, arms I mistakenly thought would protect me, arms that squeezed life out of me. The memory of those arms makes me noxious and sick and I find myself gasping for air when they come to mind…

And there are those arms, arms I know are loving and sincere, arms that I know would keep me safe and protect me from all harm, arms I really need, arms where I long to be, hoping I would be able to cry my heart out without losing my pride. I love those arms, yet I am too scared of surrendering in them; I’m afraid they’d get tired of holding me, and I am more afraid of ever losing them that I force myself to do without them. I wish I could melt in those arms… no, I wish those arms would be there forever even if I never let them hold me, but I need to know that they’re always there…

There are also those little arms, arms that barely wrap around me, yet give me a sense of happiness and joy mixed with traces of sorrow and hurt, arms that fill me with hope and yet fear, fear of the unknown. I love those arms…

And then, there are my arms…

Arms that are only capable of holding those I love so close to my heart, hoping it would be enough to ease away their pain… Arms that want to be warm, safe, protective, and loving… Arms that are terrified of being cruel, hard or disappointing… I think of how much love I need to channel with those arms every time I hold my kids, I need them to know the things I can only say with my arms as I hold them…

Such a shame…

I hear those words a lot, “such a shame”…

When people look at me and realize I’m a divorcee, they shake their heads and very bluntly imply it...

“You’re young, too young to be a mother and a divorcee already…”

And it’s worse when they see my babies; you see, as annoying as my kids can be, they’ve been blessed with some sort of charm that I can’t really understand… it could be Beem’s radiant smile or Mocha’s big brown eyes that steal people’s hearts away!

And when they know they belong to a single mother and an absent father, they shake their heads even harder and say it with such disbelief and disappointment…

“Such beautiful kids, such a shame, la 7awla wala quawata ella b’Ellah”

Those words are not necessarily said; they don’t need to be, they are too loud in their eyes that it deafens me and disturbs my peace!

And the thoughts explode in my head…

It hurts to see my kids loving someone so unworthy, it hurts to see them getting so attached to someone who’s only there for them to get to me and make me pay for breaking free and doing it with my head up high without any sense of regret or defeat that would satisfy his sick ego.

It hurts me that I am not able to fight back and play as dirty to stop him, that I can’t get back at him because I worry about my kids’ wellbeing!

Now that’s a shame…

To have that much anger, hate and resentment for someone and not be able to use it to hurt him and cause him as much irreversible damage as he caused…

It’s such a shame to hold on to my ethics and upbringing, stick to right and refrain from wrong when every cell of my body is screaming “PAYBACK”

It’s such a shame to feel that much rage and yet still listen to that frail voice telling me that everything evens up at the end and that he will pay one day, and that he’ll pay dearly!

Right now, that’s not really enough…. I don’t want him to pay one day, I want him to pay NOW! I don’t want him to wonder what he could have possibly done to deserve the pain and agony I wish him; I want him to know it’s because of what he’s done to me and to those boys and spend the rest of his days trying to think of ways to fix it hoping his pain would stop…

It may sound like I want revenge, but all I really want is justice, poetic justice, the kind they spoke of in fairytales and fables, the kind I should be old enough to know does not exist…

Such a shame!

On being a parent, the things they never told me!

I know I am not alone and I surely know I have it a lot better than other people, alhamdulilah.

However, that does not deny me the right to rant and wonder how to make it better, no???

So here is the deal…

I have two boys, ages (almost) 4 and 2, we live with my family (father, mother, two sisters), my father is usually away Wednesdays to Saturdays and the boys see their dad on Fridays.

Anyone who’s followed my blog long enough would know for a fact that the their father is “zay 3adamo” as an efficient father figure; his only job is to spoil them rotten in the sense of “you’re missing out on lots of fun” which the kids do not pick up on much due to their short attention span. Their father is the same guy who calls me on my cell phone around 5 times when I take a bathroom break away from them and decide to sit down and have coffee to help me survive the stressful outing. AND, he’s the very same guy who keeps receipts of clothes, toys and meals he buys them!!!!! Do I really need to say more?!

I love my kids to pieces; I mean yeah, I whine 30 hours a day about how I miss being just myself without worrying about others the way I do... and yeah I run away in outings with friends whenever possible… but when I am out and I see other people’s kids within the same age as mine, I almost cry because I miss them!! I almost feel my uterus contracting like when they used to be in it and kick!!!!! It makes me feel guilty, an emotion I am not that much used to… momken awy la2enny 7aloofa!

That’s still not the issue; that was an introduction because I am a very talkative person…

Beem (my almost 4 year old) as cute as he is, is showing signs of needing tarbeyah, which I think is critical at his age if I want him to be a half decent human being at some stage of his life, hopefully right after surviving the horrid teenage years.

Looks wise, I think he looks a lot like me despite how everyone keeps saying he takes more after his dad. The reason I am mentioning the looks is that I don’t want anyone out there saying that I am emotionally unstable because he reminds me of his dad that way.

But the poor thing takes after his dad; he’s too analytical, he has very selective memory, he LOVES preaching and arguing like there’s no tomorrow, he never takes the blame and when he does it’s ALWAYS justified, and he uses his charm to get away with EVERYTHING!! For the astrological people out there, his dad is Libra and he’s Virgo; these are more or less the stuff they have in common as sunsigns too!

Now, I keep reminding myself that those things are general things about kids, but let me be accurate; he takes them to the next level!!! And I also realize few of those are good stuff if they’re developed the right way, but I don’t know how to, especially that they remind me of his dad a lot which makes me overreact, yes, I am aware that I do overreact and I am trying to control it!

I appreciate Beem’s IQ, and I love how he is so analytical to the extent that he doesn’t miss a single detail! I like how he remembers things I said; it keeps me on my toes keeping all the promises I make him, but it drives me crazy how he would just pretend to not remember my specific instructions, yes I know he’s only 4, but I have lately realized I can be a perfectionist Nazi (and an ethics Nazi like my friend was telling me)! His arguing skills impress me; very few people leave me speechless the way he does, but the kid has to know at some point that it can be annoying like hell!! And I won’t even comment on placing blame and getting out of it with charm, it makes me want to kill him, and then I look at his cute little face and I want to keep kissing his cheeks and eyes; he’s my CUTE Beem!!

And there’s another problem, the kid barely hangs with people from his gender aside from the rest of boys at the daycare! Between my dad being away and being entitled as a grandparent to spoil him rotten and his dad being a spoilt brat, I don’t have a strong authoritative figure who can also be a role model, which leaves me to do that role! Like I needed more reason to be more “man-like”! Now, I yell in thick scary voice when I have to, I do the threatening walk, and sometimes I hit… my heart aches when I overhear my mom telling him “hatesma3 el kalam walla 2a2ool le mama 3aleik” the way she used to tell me “haaaah, 2a2ool le baba!!”; I don't want to be the bad guy to my kids, not that kind of bad guy anyways... I've always pictured us being more like friends, not really happening :'(

I hate it when I am angry at him, especially that he is so sensitive; all I really want is for him to be able to realize right and wrong on his own and stand up and admit it when he’s wrong and be a man about it!! I realize very few men behave that way, and I realize the little thing is not even 4 yet, and I can tell I am being cruel, but I am scared of the alternative!! I don’t want to be one of those parents who bring more jerks into the world and end up defending their sick actions because there’s nothing that they can do about it!! My friend tells me that being too righteous is just as bad because it might actually lead to the same outcome, and the sad thing is that he’s right and I know it, but it’s HARD to figure out a balance, let alone keeping it!!

And that was just Beem!!!

I have double the worry about Mocha because he copycats his own brother and adds up more attitude since he’s the trouble maker!! I also have to watch out for sibling jealousy and be really smart about it when one of them tries to get the other in trouble (Mocha is a master doing it to Beem!!!), and I have to be very subtle about teaching them a lesson and being fair especially with how hillarious Mocha is (I respond better to good sense of humor than I do to charm!)

I feel tired just writing this, I can’t even imagine having to live it day to day, let alone doing it right!

I love them, I REALLY do, but I keep thinking “I didn’t sign up for this, I wasn’t even that enthusiastic about becoming a mother” (yeah not so motherly of me to say it!!)… A friend of my father laughs and tells me “if you do all the things your dad did with you, you’ll be safe; you and your sisters turned out great”, as sweet as it is, it’s not exactly true; MOREOVER, I am not the father in this scenario, I am the single mother and it makes it twice as hard especially when the other party is such a bad influence and barely acts as any sort of support!!
I don’t know how to be like my father when I still feel like one BIG child myself! I don’t think I’m fit to behave like an adult just yet!! I see now why baba did so many things I once disliked, and I feel for him.

When did it become not-ok to cry and kick the floor when things didn’t go my way!!

After midnight blabbers…

It’s been a while, and I keep having random thoughts in my head that drive me insane, but not long enough for me to write them down. However, tonight I just have an unbearable urge to let them out, or at least some...


This is one of the loud thoughts I have in my head…

Wouldn’t this world be a much better place if each one of us believed that everyone is someone else’s father/mother, son/daughter, brother/sister and/or, husband/wife… as in that each and everyone one of us has a bunch of people in his/her life who think great deal of him/her!!

Yeah, I am starting to understand why exactly most of my friends think I need to be admitted into some facility that “protects” people like me! But really, just take a moment to imagine it; better yet, take a minute to think of someone you dislike as someone else’s special person! (I don’t necessarily mean special special)



This word keeps echoing in my head for no good reason!

Yearning, as in: Longing, aching, nostalgic… I have no idea for what!!



Current Soundtrack…

Charles Aznavour Duos!! I still can’t get over the intensity of his voice in different languages! The way he says each word makes my heart skip beats!!!!

Nina Simone’s The Keeper of the Flame made me tear up when it played randomly in the car; I wasn’t even paying attention to the lyrics, but the music definitely hit a nerve I am unaware of!

I am not sure if the soundtrack stirred the nostalgia and the yearning or if I am vulnerable to the music because of those feeling; either way, they get along fine!!



The daily annoyances…

The infamous X… the annoying colleague at work who wouldn’t let me ignore him… and the governmental officials that make me want to forget about them being someone else’s special and kill them or wish them horrible deaths, especially that freakin’ officer with the dirty looks, I wish that one turns blind!!

I should have also mentioned the evil side of me since I am wishing all the above all the shit they made me go through during the past few days!



My little blessings

My cute little monsters of kids; I can’t get over how sweet and kind Beem is, and how hilarious and cute my Mocha is, pretty much makes up for how nagging Beem can be and how crazy and aggressive Mocha is!!

The little extra bonus at work and the medical insurance refund (yeah I kinda need the money)

My dad’s little surprise that I hope would come to term without any disappointment (God, I know I am asking for way too much!!)

The few laughs I had with Rasha yesterday and today, aside from the nakad movie that had the poor thing sobbing!



The things I KNOW I should do...

Show God my gratitude, as in do my prayers on time we balash estehbal… Clean up the damn room… save money… spend more time with the boys and enjoy them… watch out… finalize all pendings at work on daily basis or whatever closest ( I hate loose ends at work and I’ve been leaving a lot behind!)… catch up with a lot of my friends…

There must be a lot more but I am too tired now; I think I’ll call it a night…



Hoping and praying for a good weekend pour moi and for all of you out there… be well.