الحمد لله

IBHOG came up with the best idea that inspired my long lost Ramadan spirit. For the rules, go to IBHOG’s…

I am grateful for…

- My boys. I remember being pregnant and depressed, I remember my one wish was healthy and smart kids (I have very low tolerance of stupidity), and every time I look at them, I feel grateful because they are much better than I could have ever wished! Beem is loving and tender, and Mocha is witty and hilarious… and they both take a lot more after me than their dad. BLESSED is what I feel when I think of my boys, and sometimes also BURDENED because I don’t know how to cherish such bliss.

- My friends. I have quite the variety, how different their interests and backgrounds are, and yet they have at least one thing in common, me. They make me feel loved and accepted, and the smallest gesture they do touches me too deep, be it a phone call when I am down to cheer me up or a ride when I am too depressed to tell the directions for myself. More importantly, they make it feel like I have well deserved it; they make me feel like I am as a good friend as they are. APPRECIATED and LOVED is what I feel when I think of my friends.

- My Father. He is my wall, knowing that he is there for me gives me a sense of protection I know no one else can give. SAFE is what I feel whenever I think of my father.

- My Job. At first, I thought it was a career dead-end -which it probably is to anyone else-, but now I appreciate the low level of tension, especially with my drama. As overqualified as I think I am for my job (business grad, marketing concentration, yet working in administration), I still have a decent status there, a good pay and benefits, not to mention that I have the nicest boss in the world who makes up for the colleagues who may push the wrong buttons sometimes. LUCKY is what I feel when I think of my job.

- Me. No, I am not being conceited, but I have a lot of good things going for me and I know it; I am relatively healthy, I’ve been told I am smart and good looking, I come from a respectable family, I received good education, and I have decent financial means that spare me worrying about the future. PRIVILEGED and CONTENT is what I feel when I think of all those things God has granted me.

- The wishes I am granted. Every time I kneeled and prayed for something, God has granted it to me; it made me seal every prayer with asking God not to grant me what’s not good for me because I know I don’t know what’s best for me most of the time. THANKFUL, OVERWHELMED, AWED, and CHALLENGED is what I feel every time a prayer is answered.

Those might have seemed like six blessings, but there's a lot more to each, especially the last two; they're ever growing, not to mention too many to count!

الحمد لله

I invite my fellow bloggers on the blog-roll to take the time and do that tag, and those who like to comment as anons as well.

About today…

I woke up to a call from the x telling me that he was getting ready to come and pick up the boys. Today they go with their nanny to his place and spend the entire day with his family.

I’ve been preparing Beem for that all through the week so that he wouldn’t panic when he realizes that I won’t be joining them like every weekend when we go out, so when he heard me saying the x’s name on the phone, he jumped off bed and woke up mocha saying “es7a ya mocha, pappy gyyy yakhodna, yalla”

For the first time in God knows how long, they showered without the usual fuss about shampoo getting in their eyes!

Beem got dressed peacefully without crying about his favorite t-shirt or the pair of shoes I never let him wear because it’s summer! For the love of God, they let me comb their hair and clip their nails without fighting back!!!!

They left with him a while ago…

I almost cried on my way upstairs.

Now, I had a big plan for myself to keep my busy all day… I planned to clean up the room, have a nice long bath, manicure and pedicure, dress up for the Iftar with my sis and her coworkers, and then go to the Pool with Rasha for a nice night swim.

Instead, I am lying in bed with my laptop, the lighting in my room is busted and so is the window, so I am forced to sit in a dimly lit room, which is not so encouraging to clean up! It feels to hot to take a bath; I want to bask in the a/c instead (at least that is working), I am even too lazy to change back into my pjs!

This will be a long day unless something extraordinary happens!

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.

Some unresolved anger

It’s been a while since I talked about the x or any of his detailed stories! It’s about time.

We’ve been meeting weekly on regular basis, we take the kids out on Fridays, have a family lunch and then he drives us home. To any outsider, we’re a perfect family made of two young parents and two adorable boys. However, if you look close enough, neither of us wears our wedding bands and we do not touch or have any private moments at all; and if you look really closer, you’ll see a dirty look I glare at him whenever he tries to move closer to me or flirts.

Nonetheless, I try to help him bond with the boys; when he gets them stuff I tell Beem “ben2ool le pappy eh?” he’d say “merci papa” and I’d tell him “meen bey7eb pappy”, he laughs and says “anaaaa”, and with Mocha I just tell to give daddy a kiss and he does. I love seeing how happy they are around him and how even happier they get when they get him to buy more toys than I would normally get them; I admire their intelligence and how they pick on how he wants to impress and use it to their advantage.

Between him and I, I tell him he should tone down the whole fun figure and act more like a parent when they’re being stubborn. Of course he doesn’t always listen because he’s tempted by the notion that they’d love him more if he always spoils them rotten, but they failed him the couple of times I disappeared to go to the ladies room or something; both times I found them waiting right outside all cried out cause mommy was gone. I just love my boys they make me feel like I’ve been doing an ok job all this time.

Moreover, I’ve had a chat with Beem’s teacher at the nursery and she bluntly asked me if things were fixed between his father and me. I smiled at her and told her that the decision to end the marriage is final but the procedures are taking some time. I confirmed that none of it shall affect the boys. She said she was happy Beem is adjusting because recently he’s been saying papa this and papa that while before that he used to stop talking whenever any of the other kids mentioned their daddies. So my decision to do the whole weekly outings was a good one.

One thing though, the x has been asking nonstop if he could take the boys to Zamalek where we used to live so that they’d see his grandma and his aunts. Normally, I would have been the softie I usually am and agreed except for a very important detail; last time I went there to pick my stuff two Ramadans ago, I was brutally kicked out and had my purse thrown behind me. That day I swore my kids would never get inside the place from where I was once kicked out. I think my pride is still a bit bruised because I can still feel a bit angry when I relive that day in my head and remember my feelings back then.

Today, I told him over the phone that we will not be seeing him this Friday because we’ll be in Alexandria for the weekend and out of the kindness of my heart, I offered that we’d meet on Monday instead since it will be an official holiday. This is how it went:

Him: ok, mafeesh moshkela
Me: tab ok, ana bas olt 2a2ollak abl mansa, bye
Him: tab estanny, 3ayez 2a2ollek 7aga
Me: mmm??
Him: eh ra2yek nekharaghom fe 7etta maftoo7a, zay el nady masalan?
Me: yeah sure, no problem as long as the weather is fine we mafeesh torab…
Him: tab eh ra2yek nekhaly 3amety teshofhom
Me: X, I will say this one more time, welady mesh hayroo7o beet ana edtaradt menno, and I really don’t think you should keep asking
Him: ana ma2oltesh yeego el Zamalek, net2abel fel nady, 3amaty 3ayzeen yeshofoohom
Me: fffffffffff
Him: betonfokhy leh? 3amaty makanoosh mawgoodeen 7ata yoomeeha…
Me: (annoyed that he’s getting around with a technicality and trying to avoid that my father hates for those two aunts to see the boys because they lied on the investigation reports) well, whatever, if anything I do not like happens, I’ll take the kids and walk out….
Him: ok, law 7ad day2ek be noss kelma emshy
Me: and your cousins will not be there, none of them
Him: ana 2olt 3amaty bas…
Me: if I spot any of your cousins I will not be nice or decent, I will probably be very rude
Him: I said none of them will be there…
Me: (mumbling)

I am very disturbed with that settlement, especially that I have just confessed to a friend of mine –as well as myself- that as much as it seems that I have come to good terms with everything that’s been as far as my wreck of a marriage is concerned, I am definitely not ok on a few aspects, like his family. I know he’s more flawed than they are, but I am also aware that he is the way he is because they taught him one way or the other that he can get away with anything; moreover, I cannot deny my kids a father, but I can keep their distance from his family, no?

There was a time back in my marriage when I lived with his grandma and aunt, and they always did things with my Beem that got under my skin, like feed him too much chocolate, yell at me when I try to discipline him or just interfere with what I choose for him to wear as if they were the parents! I used to take all that for the sake of whatever harmony I thought was there. Not anymore, the slightest criticism and I am likely to say something nasty and inconsiderate; not because I can’t help myself, but rather because I want to be nasty.

I am not proud of myself for feeling that way, but I am sure as hell convinced that I have very good reasons to. Yes, I have displaced my anger and rage at him towards them and I am not ready to deal with them on fake friendly basis yet, if that makes any sense.

It's such a complicated society!

I don’t know if it’s our human nature or our society, but I find our tendency to complicate all matters very disturbing. I know it might sound a bit ironic and contradicting coming from someone like me who over thinks everything, especially with how long this post is expected to drag!

So here is where this is coming from…

I went out with my x last weekend, along with the kids; like a hallmark happy family and shit.

So this is how it was like…

Surroundings:

Thursday Evening – After I got off work, I picked the kids up from their nursery and met him at Carrefour Maadi, where the kids knocked themselves out in the kids playing area after getting more than their fair share of toys!

Friday – He picked us up from my parents’ after prayers and we spent the day at the club where the boys behaved like they’ve never seen sand in their entire lives!

The impact on the kids:

My Beem was glowing with happiness being around his daddy. He was so proud of the little toys he got and kept saying “babaya gabhomly”, he kept going on and on about how he loves his “baba M”. He behaved his best to impress his daddy and he told him “ana ba7ebak ya baba M” all of a sudden as they were sitting next to one another (of course the x had a bag full of toys next to him, but my Beem is unconditionally sweet when he feels like it nonetheless).

The next day at the club, Beem was happy showing off his scooter-riding skills. Surprisingly, my very cautious and rather easily scared Beem jumped from what would normally be a scary height to impress his daddy after his daddy taught him how to climb those monkey bars. I almost screamed myself; luckily the sand made his fall less painful than it would have been otherwise, and my Beem landed on his feet rather than his knees. *me so proud*

Mocha was rather calm and peaceful. It was his first time to interact with his dad. We’ve been separated less than a month after he was born and he refers to my father as “baba”. So I kept referring to my x as “baba” so that Mocha would pick up on it. He didn’t talk to him at all, but whenever I asked him to give something to baba, he obeyed smilingly.

The impact on me:

Strangely enough, I didn’t burn with jealousy when my son said he loved his daddy; in fact, I was proud that all the negative feelings I have for his dad did not get through, I was glad he didn’t pick on it. Alhamdulilah.

I cannot deny I felt some peace watching my sons having fun and running around happily. I sensed Beem’s sense of security every time he called for his dad, and I secretly kept hoping his father would live up to the father’s role in my sons’ life and that he would bond and make up for them for the past two years.

Generally, it was not straining for me. I was neutral; I was not angry or resentful, neither was I all sunshine and rainbow. I remained silent most of the ride and I barely had much to say unless it was about the kids; otherwise, whenever he tried to start small talk or befriend me, I pretended not to hear him and justified it by being tired and sleepy. My way of politely telling him that I didn’t want to talk.

I think he noticed how I quietly looked away whenever he tried to make eye contact. I think he also noticed I looked the other way whenever any of the past events were mentioned one way or the other; either by passing by a place that holds too many bad memories, or by him mistakenly mentioning something that has the wrong connotation. I still felt sick having to remember any of it.

I didn’t like how he kept asking if I was happy. I didn’t like how he tried to overdo the whole gentleman act either. Nonetheless, I did appreciate how we didn't have any physical contact and how he didn’t try to find excuses to make any. At least until he waited outside the door then held on to my hand for a while after the handshake was over. I never liked it when guys did that; it’s cheesy. I looked him in the eye as I pulled my hand a bit aggressively. I hope he got the message.

NOW

My mom is getting her hopes up that’s we’d be back. My sisters seem to have their own suspicions of his intentions and wondering how his next screw up would be like, I kinda have my own concerns as well. My father is avoiding the whole topic.

What’s upsetting me is that whenever I tell any of my friends what happened, I sound like I am defending the reason behind it and I feel like I have to clarify that NO I do not want back.

It’s really that simple; I agreed to let him meet with the boys because he has the right, getting a ruling from the court will only take time and it’s better for my kids' benefit that I do it amicably as long as I am not compromising any of my rights or security. It seemed to be a good idea given its effect on my boys.

Now, will I be considering a way back? HELL NO! He crushed me and my ability to trust in the whole notion of love. I am not devastated or heartbroken like I once thought I’d be, but my faith in love and marriage has forever been compromised.

As for him, I can’t look at him; I don’t even like looking at him. I don’t find anything he says interesting; in fact, most of the things he said the other day were extremely shallow and I would have normally grilled him with my ruthless sarcasm if I knew he could take it. So if I can’t look at him and I don’t find him interesting, not to mention the whole trust and respect issues I have clearly and repeatedly expressed on that blog, it is OVER.

According to the Egyptian norms, I am a crazy crazy woman.

I have been repeatedly told that I am making a big fuss out of something all men do and that any good wife belongs to her husband’s home. “Go home” they say, “you’ve already shown him your strength and made it clear that he cannot mistreat you and get away with it”. In addition to that, the man is a catch according to the lame Egyptian standards; he’s tall enough for me to never be his height no matter how high my heels are, he’s athletic, he has a career, drives a pricy car, and “shareeny”!!!!! Ya far7ety!!!!!!

Like all has been forgotten!!

Well I remember it all…

I remember how I first stumbled on each of his affairs…

I remember how my heart almost stopped the first time, I remember how hard I cried and I remember how abusive the confrontation was…

I remember that in the midst of all that I agreed to move out of the one home I ever belonged, so that his life would be easier and mine harder just to “be there for him” and “prove my love”…

I remember how my health kept deteriorating and how I kept going through one surgical procedure after the other, not to mention that my first c-section was due to severely high blood pressure which he caused in so many ways!

I remember how I made a huge fool out of myself forcing myself to believe his lies so that I can continue living with him only to stumble on more disturbing proofs of his lies…

I remember how my life turned to hell because I couldn’t trust him, and how humiliating it felt going through his messages and analyzing his words to find lies!

I remember how he finally stopped hiding his tracks and decided to do it all in the open and hide it by making me doubt my own sanity!

I remember wanting to die…

I remember the hospital fights, the worst postpartums, and the stitches that wouldn’t hold because of my constant sobbing!

I remember I almost caved in to all the pressures, and almost went back to him, more than once…

I remember each and every time I collapsed because I couldn’t…

I remember how angry he got because he couldn’t believe I rejected him after he “came clean”…

I remember the lies he said about me, lie after lie…

I remember how he said he no longer had kids, that they were dead to him, my kids…

I remember the ugliness that followed with his family showing their true color…

I remember my desperate cries and prayers and I remember very clearly the physical pain I went through in the process…

I remember how I managed to stand on my own two feet again, mostly with my father’s direct and indirect help and sometimes with my mom's and sisters', not to mention my friends…

I remember a lot of things that can make me angry all over again!! What people do not get is that the reason why I no longer get that angry is NOT because I am willing to go back; it’s because I realized I am too strong for him to break me and that I have nothing to fear of him.

I see how I bounced back, and I am proud of myself for it. I realize my losses and the damages he caused and I am ok with them. I have moved on, and knowing that, I can handle seeing him every day if I have to, as long as I am no longer his wife and I do not have to answer to him when it comes to my life.

It’s that simple, but people keep making their own assumptions about my feelings according to the expected behavior of women in my society, and the more I try to explain it, the more complicated it gets!! Look at how long that post have got when I tried explaining something so simple!!!

Sorry about that!

In my darkest hour…

I don’t believe in regret; to me, it simply does not fix things, it just makes one feel worse about things that are most likely too late to change. However, there are always times when I wonder “what if..??”; I always find it intriguing to think, like it’s my own mental exercise.

Since all my drama began, I would have those thoughts from time to time:

What if I never befriended him?

What if I never believed his lies when I first called it off?

What if I walked out when it got complicated?

What if I called off the marriage like I wanted to when it kept getting complicated?

What if I never agreed to move in with his family after his father died?

What if I never forgave him when he first screwed around?

What if I had decided to stay?

I have a could-have-been answer to each of those, but I really have peace with what really happened versus what could have happened.

But in my darkest hour, one very persisting thought haunts me… what if I never had kids with him?

Every time I find myself asking that question, I realize I’m hitting rock bottom. Don’t get me wrong I love my children, they’re probably the only real thing in my life.

The thought starts creeping in by me thinking “had I not had children with him, I would have walked away for good and never had to look back or be forced to sit and have all those futile arguments”. After all, most of the time I seem to manage not to cross ways with those I don’t like.

Then, I feel horrible having those thoughts in my head, and as I start blaming myself, I hear the other voice justifying “but they deserve better than such messed up parents; and let’s face it, aside from their crazy father, you know you are far away from the perfect mom they deserve. You wouldn’t be wondering what if they were never there if you were a decent mother; but you too want the easy way out, perhaps you’re not much better than him”

What I hate the most is that the silly voices in my head are right; I am a lousy mother, the only thing that makes me a good parent is being compared to him.

Now, I should shake off the silly thoughts, and tell myself it will be over; that there are so many reasons behind it all, and that most of which must be good because my kids are two amazing, cute and innocent children who must not pay for the stupid choices I made. I should tell myself to get it together and stop wallowing in those dark thoughts and go try harder at being a better parent.

Well, if you can’t right now, then it’s ok, send Beem to the club with your parents, put Mocha to bed, and go eat away your bad mood with your friend.

Must get ice cream on my way home.

It hurt…

I am not sure where this came from, but as I was driving home with both of my kids in the backseat when this conversation took place….


Beem: mommy…
Me: na3am ya beem
Beem: (pointing at a Toyota) heya el 3arabeya de eeh?
Me: esmaha ToYoTa ya beem
Beem: heya beta3et meen?
Me: beta3et uncle elly saye2ha…
Beem: ana 3ayez arkabha
Me: mmm, bas e7na mane3rafsh uncle da a beem (thinking to myself, he’s almost got into all the car brands we bump into except Toyota, how perceptive!)
Beem: ana 3ayez arkabha ma3 pappy
Me: (WHAT!!!) bet2ool eh ya beem?
Beem: 3ayez arkab Toyota ma3 pappa! Pappa Ahmed, howa bey7ebeny wana ba7ebo we harkab ma3ah…
Me: (WHAT WHAT WHAT!!!! Think of something, QUICKLY!) bas bas ya beem pappa masmoosh ahmad!
Beem: la2 pappa esmo ahmed, ana 3ayez pappy ahmad…
Me: ya 7abeeby walahy masmoosh ahmad! Pappa esmo (my x’s name, obviously not ahmad), mesh enta esmak (his full name)… yeb2a pappy esmo (my x’s name)…
Beem: howa 3ando 3arabeya eh
Me: mesh 3arfa ya beem… tab enta mesh beterkab ma3aya fe 3arabeety, we beterkab ma3 geddo fe 3arabeeto we ma3 agga fe 3arabeetha we goody fe 3arabeetha, enta zehe2t wala eh!!
Beem: ana harkab ma3 Geddo 3arabeya Toyota
Me: (relieved he stopped referring to his dad) ok, hanshoof el mawdoo3 da ma3 geddo
Beem: (coming closer to me while driving, within my reach to hug my right arm) ana ba7ebek awy ya mommy…
Me: ana ba7ebak aktar….


OUCH!!! Who the hell is “pappy ahmad”??! I couldn’t see the road clearly and I started feeling like I was about to bump into the sidewalk with the dizziness i felt!



Later right before having lunch at home…


Me: yalla ya beem ta3ala 3ashan takol ma3aya
Beem: ana ha2akel nafsy
Me: tab ma 2a2akelak ana 3ashan matwasakhsh nafsak
Beem: bas ana kebeer
Me: tayeb ok, hat2akel nafsak bas el kebeer mesh yewa2a3 3ala nafsoh
Beem: ana hakbar tany lessa?
Me: (smiling) ah taba3an, hatekbar lessa in sha2 Allah
Beem: we hageeb 3arabeya Toyota kebeeeeraaaa
Me: (smiling even more) in sha2 Allah
Beem: we hakhaly geddo yerkab ma3aya feeha
Me: (on the verge of tears, and my voice choking) enta gameel awy ya beem, yala ba2a ta3ala kol
Beem: malek ya mommy?
Me: (running in his direction, and making a funny tone) ana hagy aklak 3ashan mesh takol akly
Beem: la2 ana hakol el akl kolo…


And we ate!


How does this kid come up with all those thoughts and ideas and puts them in words? And what’s with the Toyota obsession??!!

More importantly, what do I tell him when he starts focusing more on the fact that he’s missing a father? It hurt like hell when he said “ana 3ayez pappy ahmad” and “howa bey7ebeny”! he’s missing a love he never even received from my idiot of an x. moments like these make me resent my x much much more than I already do. I can only quote my own dad “A7MAQ”!!

Regardless what my mood is, my kids know how to put a smile on my face :)

Beem fell and banged his head so hard the last day in Ramadan. It was horrible, we were all in tears and we worried it would be something as serious as my infamous head injuries (at the ages of 1 and 13!!) As he was crying he heard me asking my sis to bring some ice, in the midst of his tears he said “la2 mesh 3ayez talg, el wawa ra7et khalaas”




A couple of hours later, he was jumping up and down and he kinda bumped his head, only really minor bumps that do not compare to that big bang, I ended up threatening him “law etkhabat tany, ana ely ha2oom adrabak” I know it’s eftera menny, but it was too much stress!

The same night he came and sat next to me and patted my arm and kissed it saying “mammy, enty konty 3ayaty leeh”
Me: 3ashan bemm 7abeeby et3awar
Beem: 3ashan ana kont ba3ayat
Me: ah
Beem: khalas ana mesh ha3ayat, ana kowayes ahoh
Me (hugging him so hard): ana ba7ebak awy ya bembemaya
Beem: ana ba7ebik ya mammy *kiss*

El walad da ezzay 7enayen keda!


Beem (rushing to me crying): mammy mocha kharbeshny
Me (I could hear mocha crying so loudly): wenta 3amalt feeh eh
Beem (so innocently): 3adeetoh


We were visiting a friend of my father’s since college, she’s practically one of my favorite aunties ever. She had her daughter and her two grandchildren, Mohamed (4 yrs) and Sarah (2 yrs) who are simply adorable; however, Sarah makes me wish I had a baby girl; she is just A.D.O.R.A.B.L.E.



Apparently, my Beem seemed to get along with Sarah a lot more than her brother, and he was very friendly and nice and brotherly to her it made me go awww. At some point while they were all playing, Mohamed decided it was time to show off his boy-ish side and started hitting Sarah…

Sarah: maaaammmmyyy
My friend: Mohamed, matedrabsh Sarah, 3eeb
Beem (standing between Sarah and her bro): ta3aly ya Sarah waraya, matkhafeesh, (talking to Mohamed in a serious tone while pointing his index finger) matedrabsh Sarah keda tany, keda nooo, enta teb2a we7esh
Mohamed (rushing to his mom and on the verge of tears): mama bey2ool eny we7esh!
Me: awwww, la ya Mohamed, howa bas khayef Sarah tet3awar, mesh tez3al mennoh, howa bardu bey7ebbak, Beem, ta3ala 2ool le Mohamed mesh yez3al
Beem (walking slowly, and checking if Mohamed was crying for real, then deciding to pat him on the arm while smiling): matez3lsh ya Mohamed



Mocha’s vocabulary:
Mammma: ana
Nanna: my mom
Babbba: my dad
Dadda: the maid
Boo: when he wants to drink
MMUMMM: obviously when he wants food, NOW… and also when he sees food!
Denndennn: when referring to horses and donkeys, he actually means deregen deregen and sometimes he’d come and pretend to ride my tummy while I’m asleep!
2ottaa: cat, and also any other animal really
Baabyy: babies, infants, and children
Bom: balloons and balls
Beeb beeb: cars
Hawhaw: when I tell him it’s not a cat, it’s a dog!
Batta: referring to Donald Duck!
Wawa: when he’s in pain or when he wants to get some extra attention!




H’s family owns a talking parrot that says too many sentences more eloquently that both of my kids and that actually sounds like H’s younger brother!! We were visiting last week and my kids were stunned to see a talking bird! Beem had fun feeding kookoo bananas and Mocha wanted to touch it so bad but they were scaring Kookoo and we were afraid it would bite them out of panicking.

H: 2ool salamo 3aleiko ya kookoo
Kookoo: (nothing)
Beem: kookoo
Mocha: 2otta???
Me (laughing): la ya mocha, da mesh 2otta, da kookoo
Kookoo: kookooo
Mocha: 2otta
Kookoo: kookoo
Mocha: tattaa
Kookoo: kookoo
Mocha: TATTA
Me: H, mocha mesh beye3raf ye2ool el kaf fa mesameeh tatta
H: we aldagh fel waw Kaman!
Me: bayen!

Later when it was time to leave and we were saying our goodbye’s, out of the blue, Kookoo decided to say "salamo 3aleiko"!

The funny part is that yesterday H called saying that kookoo is saying tatta the same way mocha was!!


Yesterday in Beem’s nursery party, his teacher totally made him sing all the songs and say the alphabet with a word for each letter; otherwise there would have been no cake!! The look on his face as he complied was more of a death threat; I think she had it coming, she should have stopped after bon anniverssaire! During the singing however, he noticed that he did not have an empty plate in front of him, so he interrupted as he got up and grabbed one.

Later when we were singing right before we blow the candles, he kept blowing it during the singing and he thought it was funny that his teacher kept lighting it, or he simply enjoyed annoying her!


Later at the home party, I got him those candles that keep burning again even after you blow them, he had some fun time trying to blow them while we were singing him “happy birthday”. I think the cake had some saliva according to my cousin due to my “torture”!


As my cousin was leaving yesterday, we were all telling Beem to say bye and thank him for the gift (a toy gun with sniper light, thank you very much!), only Beem was too busy playing with H and her sister, so he kinda blew him off, that was when my cousin said “khalas, ana hakhod el mosadas beta3y”
Beem: khodo
A: hatoh, howa fein
Beem (rushing to get it): 7ader
A (stunned): …
Beem: ya daddooo, howa fein
Baba (laughing so hard): ahoh, adeeh le A?
Beem: la2 hatoh (and he gave it to my cousin without saying a word, then ran to his seat hiding the balls he was playing with) bas mesh hatakhod el kewar, ana khabethom!
A: tayeb! Ana haddy el mosadas le Mocha

I was laughing too hard to follow what happened next!


I had more in mind, but I can’t seem to remember any right now! More will follow when I do :)

Random Randomness…

I have a head cluttered with thoughts again… so I will put them all here in no specific order; the good and the bad. I will put them for the sake of reference; who knows, may be some day I would talk further about any of them.


I just love R! The other day, I was too sleepy at work and I had to send tons of emails to too many people in which the two common things were 1- that they were all men, and 2- they were all my superiors! So to avoid confusion, I started all mails with “Dear Sir”. Minutes after I sent my mail to R, he responded saying “Thanks! P.S. Inso, my name is R, not Sir!”… It woke me up for a minute or two, put a smile on my face and then I continued being sleepy! I could have replied saying “Dear R, I love you”.

I am my father’s daughter, I just am! Everyday I stumble on a thought that makes me realize I take a lot after my dad even more, despite how people keep saying we have nothing in common looks-wise!! What no one ever noticed before is that even though we do not share the head shape, skin color, eye color or shape, nose (thank goodness), mouth; we do share the same faint dimple on the chin!!! I just saw that resemblance a few days ago and it was like a revelation (I did mention on so many occasions that I am easily amused)!!! Other than that, we share too many things character wise, it scares me yet somehow reassures me in another way! I say it proudly; I am my father’s daughter, with all his annoying flaws, or at least most of them!

I enjoy my kids’ company beyond measures. I know I rant a lot about missing my own space and the little things I can’t seem to do with them being so dependant on me; I guess it goes back to me being restless and easily bored generally. However, truth is, I spend my happiest moments tickling, laughing and playing with them and I feel the safest when Beem hugs me saying “ba7ebik ya mAmmy” or when Mocha holds on to me to feel safe! I hope it will forever feel this way, and I hope I could be the best mother I could be to those two.

I still can’t find it in me to forgive him. I manage to speak of him without calling him names he very much deserves, but I can’t seem to even be willing to forgive him. Every time I think of my status and pray to God for all to end, a part of me wanders away wondering “howa 7asses howa ad eh zalem?! Wala faker eno keda bey7afez 3ala beet howa haddo? Wala faker eny momken fe yoom arda arga3lo?” and I refrain from cursing at him in my prayers and just say “يا رب ارفع ظلمه عني و لا تجعل مني ظالما أو مظلوما”. The worst thing is to feel oppressed and helpless; kelmet zolm is more than just those two. الحمد لله

No matter how more accepting or wiser I get, I will never NEVER understand people’s ability to inflict harm on others. It’s just beyond my ability to understand, let alone accept. This makes me too vulnerable to people’s constant deceit; however, it scares me that the day may come when I learn how to accept it, because in my head it means I would be capable of it at some later stage after which. I think too much!

Whenever I sleep right after prayers, my last prayer is always for my late Nana and to see her in my dreams. I can’t remember when it last happened; however, three nights ago I saw her in a terrible nightmare, it filled my heart with pain and fear instead of peace, and made me no longer wish to see her in my sleep. May peace and serenity find her and keep her company.

My best days at work are when I work REALLY hard. I feel active and my mood and attitude are noticeably better!! I hate boring days where I just stare at my screen and browse away!

Words just fascinate me. I appreciate thoughts, but my appreciation for words is just indescribable; it impresses when thoughts are described in the right words. This is probably why I fall too hard for kind words to the extent that it might take me longer time to see that they could be fake. Not just that, cruel words have such a huge and exaggerated effect on me; they make me dwell too hard for my own good! What can I say, I’m such a sucker for words; may God protect me from those who know how to use them without really meaning them.

Every time, every single time I decide to follow local news 3ashan mab2ash “gahla” 3ala ra2y babaya; I end up realizing that I made one wise decision to live in my own head, detached from this scary scary reality. Everything around saddens me and makes me worry about the future and my kids; I worry that one day they will be in the same place I see people in, and it just disturbs me. It leaves me to my defense mechanism, meet denial and cynicism. So please, stop giving me newspapers to read, sometimes ignorance is a blessing.


Kefaya keda!

My Beem is Three!

I look at older photos I have of him and previous posts I wrote about him and I feel like it was just yesterday when he could barely say a word or two! Now, ma sha2 Allah mesh beyeskot!

Here’s a sample…


Hilarious Beem:

Me: A Avion, 2ool yalla!
Him: mesh ha2ool avion
Me: tab hat2ool B Bateau?
Him: mesh ha2ool bateau
Me: wala C Cadeau???
Him: la2 mesh ha2ool cadeau ba2a!
Me: tab 2ool D Dolphin
Him (finally getting the trick): mesh ha2ool
Me: wala E Étoile!!
Him: ha2ool KOFTA (this is what he says when I start asking him to repeat stuff after me!)
Me: enta KOFTA
(my sis getting in the room)
Me: yalla ya beem warreeha ennak bet2ool avion
Him: avion!
Me: B Bateau…
Him: bateau
Me: C Cadeau
Him (getting all excited): CADEAAAAUUUU
Sis: tab ya3ne eh Cadeau?
Him (bekol telqa2eya we theqa): TAYARAAAAAAAAAAA
Me: LA22AAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Mama: 3amal zay abdel Fattah el Ossary, 7anashon!!


Beem aleel el adab:

Me: battal le3b fel telefezyoon ya beem
Him: la2
Me: haz3al!
Him: ez3ali
Me: ha2ool le geddo 3aleik
Him: 2oleeloh
Me: ha2olo ennak we7esh we bete3mel ghalat!
Him: ha2olo enek enty we7sha we bete3mely ghalat
Me: ha2oom adrabak
Him: hadrabek
*me standing up and walking his way*
*him running to hide at mama’s or baba’s* gaban!!


Sweet Beem:

Him: mammmmyyyyy
Me: na3am!
Him (with the biggest, most adorable smile on his face): ba7ebik
Me (going all AWWWWW): ana Kaman ba7ebak awy awy awy
Him: ana ba7ebik awy awy awy (we lama yeb2a rady 3an mocha) we ba7eb mocha Kaman (we lama yeb2a beynam 3ala nafso) we ba7eboko koloko
Me (holding him so tight): ana ba7ebak aktar

I love this kid!

Two things that remind me of my x!!

Two things I can’t do at all, and every time I am in need of having them done, I think of my x and remember how I never had to learn doing them simply because he did them!

Number one, tipping! I don’t know how to tip people, I swear it’s hard! I personally find stuffing people’s sweaty hands with money a tad embarrassing for me and humiliating for them!! Call me a snob, but even when I used to take 3eedeya, I never liked the idea of aunts and uncles stuffing money in my hand that way; so I can’t really imagine myself doing something to anyone that I hated being done to me!!

Now, I really wanna tip the nannies at my kids’ nursery for the efforts they’ve been doing with both my kids, but I can’t seem to find a way!! It’s pathetic, I have the money in my pocket, I know exactly who I want to give it to, but I don’t have the guts to give them the freakin’ money, I don’t know how to do it or whether I should be making eye contact and smiling or not!! I even thought of putting them in white envelopes with the names of the nannies, but I don’t know, it seemed too showy from my end, which is not how I want to be at all!! ARRRGGGHHHH I feel like crap not being able to show my gratitude and appreciation!

Thinking about that all the way from the nursery to work today, made me remember my x and how I could always whisper in his ears that I wanted to give a tip but I was too shy and he would take care of it!! Yes, I tried watching him to see how he did it but I guess I just never had it in me to it myself, it’s embarrassing!!


Number two, killing insects! I have mentioned my phobia before and I have mentioned that no matter how I attempt to fight insects, I will never really be able to stop fearing them. Two days ago, beem came running calling for me to see what mocha is doing, I went there to find him trying to grab a sticky half eaten skittles that was abandoned on the floor by him earlier that ants all over it! My first instinct was grabbing mocha while screaming hysterically and making sure no ants were on him; I washed both his hands and feet while feeling a million ants all over my body I started crying!!

Yeah, I see or think of any of those creepy living things that can surprise you like ants, roaches, geckos, spiders and even rats, and I feel utterly disgusted and now they remind me of him; all the more reasons to feel grossed!! Eww!! It’s scary because I don’t want my kids to grow up feeling the same way about insects just because they get to see me freak out every time I see any! I mean if there was anything I wish they take after their father, it would be his ability to kill all sorts of those things!!

My babies…

I’m at work, obviously not working!

And it just hit me, I miss my kids!! Yeah, I was too tired yesterday I slept like a log and I remember shooing them out of the room in grumpy sleepy manner. Since I did not spend time with them, I seem to be making up by it by talking about them to everyone who mentions them!!

I ran out of people, so I am sharing a few things… However, be warned, this is all mushy and cute and contains mommy material that can make some people nauseous!


My Beem…

His recognition of trademarks and brand names is simply outstanding!! It started out with associating car brands to their owners! Like how Peugeot is the brand my dad drives and so on. It would only take him seeing the brand once and he would associate it to the person who happened to be there!! He calls Skittles “batabata” because Batabeet was the first one to give it to him!! And he is capable of recognizing McDonald’s golden arches anywhere; moreover, he knows the way to go from where we live!!! He recognizes Adidas… it is his father’s brand when it comes to sports wear… I find it surprising that he still points at the logo saying Adidas and refers to his father; it has been around 10 months!! He associates Pepsi with me and Lipton with my dad, he even recognizes Kodak for photos! And that includes all logos to every brand!!!! I am not sure, but I think it’s worth mentioning that I used to work with trademarks during my first pregnancy!!

He is very kind hearted and sweet regardless how angry he gets. I don’t think he’s capable of harm; it’s usually more of a reaction to him. Like he would be really angry and giving me that mean stare my baby sis refers to as “the stare of the little boy from the movie Identity”, then I would say something I know would make him laugh and in a split second he’s smiling like nothing was upsetting him!!! He’d be attempting to hit, bite or pinch me or his brother and I start tickling him, he cracks up and it’s a different mood!! I love him.

He’s a typical “ya wad ya t2eel” kinda kid! He would spend hours and hours giving strangers intense stares; not the acknowledging kind of stares, more like the intimidating don’t-you-dare-make-friends-with-me kind or the you-do-not-exist-in-the-scope-of-my-vision kind!! But once he knows you and he’s really familiar with you, he’d be too nice and friendly; he’d even be willing to share his candy with you!! That’s A LOT, trust me :) And he’s popular among the girls at the nursery too ;)

He has imaginary friends. I keep running into him playing with non existing people explaining rules to games in his not so easily understood dialect and he also explains that “mama bet2ool mes ne3mel keda…” which makes me smile because he actually listens to my rules even if he does not do by them!!


My Mocha…

We refer to him in so many words that have to do with “egram”!! I swear, the kid is motacharred, but in the most charming way possible!! He has a smile that brightens up my mood, and those big brown eyes of his just make me wanna keep kissing his little cheeks until he pulls away!

You know how sometimes we parents make all sorts of wild guesses about our kids’ future professions based on their early interests… my number one expectation of Mocha’s career is mokhber or a shaweesh (as illustrated in Egyptian Black/White movies by el shaweesh 3atteya)!! You know that dude who yanqad we ye2fesh el wa7ed men afah!! He does it all the time as his way of greeting; he practically throws his not so much of weight as he gives you the feeling that you’re being caught!! And don’t forget the amazing smile.

He hates bathing and showering! He does!! The moment he sees me filling up the tub or senses any arrangement of his post shower, he freaaaakes and starts bending himself violently trying to make me let go of him; he kicks, screams, slaps, scratches, whatever it takes!! I am ashamed to say I surrender most of the time and clean him up really well instead of real bath or shower; anyone knows how to install straps in a bathtub???

He’s extremely restless!! I get the following comments from his nursery instructor in his daily report notebook… “he’s the most active kid in the class”, “he moves a lot, it’s such a challenge teaching him to sit still in his chair”, “how do you handle him at home? How do you make him sit still?” In addition to her face to face comments that go like “is he really just 13 months old; he walks much better than kids his age usually do, let alone the climbing” and “he is so friendly with other kinds and he interacts very well, and he has such a smile”… yessss my cutest mocha ever :)


I can’t wait until I’m home and spending some time with my little monsters.

On “harm”

In addition to my yesterday drama, I had not so great news regarding my divorce case. It’s to be postponed till next week for us to prepare witnesses who would witness on the harm caused by my x. The divorce case is called “طلاق للضرر” and apparently I have to prove harm!!

Having to think of witnesses to show for such a statement –preferably men as per the judge’s words-, I couldn’t help but think of the people –men- who know about the “harm”. Not much!! The count of people who know about the dirt in my divorce is very much limited; some people know there are problems but they don’t know how messy it has become and that it’s currently at court!!!

I can always count the readers of my blog whom I think make a bigger number than those who know in my real life!! The guys I know whom I told are around five, the girls are around the same number, my uncle and two of my dad’s friends!! I should have thought of that when I was being “harmed”!

So just to have people learning from my “experience”… To all the women who read this, for future reference, if your husbands get abusive, farrago 3aleehom khal2o, and make sure there are enough males watching!!! You just never know!

Anyways, I am not so scared about it; I came up with a good list of witnesses that I will pass to my lawyer and hopefully the judge wouldn’t have more requests before he spits out the ruling! I am glad that I have friends praying for me day in and day out and I am glad that the next time I go by the end of June, I will not be alone; I will have someone standing by my side whom I can hide in his arms if I need to feel weak and cry, uncle G.

On a lighter note, I was transferring my kids to a new nursery today. As I filled the application for each of them this is what I wrote under “Is there anything else you think we need to know about your child?”…

Beem: He’s stubborn and he has a good memory, but he’s easily distracted. His father and I are currently separated until the divorce is final…

Mocha: He’s very stubborn and fidgety and restless, and he hates being left alone even when asleep. His father and I are currently separated until the divorce is final…

I needed to write that last line; I needed that fact acknowledged to whoever reads it!! And I think their teachers should not press so hard on things like “what does daddy do?” and “how do you spend your time with daddy?”

That’s it for the day I guess! Oh, and I am going to art therapy today, again. I’ve been told I could use more of that!

My Mochaccino <3

1- When he wakes up after a good sleep, he keeps opening and closing his eyes to check if I am there, then starts stretching with a big smile on his face… if I am still asleep, he sits up then throws himself at me causing me to wake up all startled!!

2- Whenever my cell phone rings or there is music, he’d sit up, starts moving his whole body while clapping! He also claps when asked to!!

3- When I’m taking him out (carrying him), he waves my sisters goodbye as he hears me saying “bye ba2a”

4- When I come back from work and my baby sister is carrying him, he literally throws himself at me, and hugs me back when I hug him, it melts my heart!

5- When he’s bored of staying with me in my room and either one of my sisters walks in, he sits up and starts clapping and tries to jump so that they take him, just like a puppy!

6- When I am too busy cleaning up or doing whatever, he loves opening up the bag where I keep my socks and he knocks himself out playing with clean socks rolled around each other like small balls, just like a kitten!

7- When I am on my bed using the laptop and he’s playing on the floor right next to me, he keeps looking at me to check if I am watching him as he starts moving towards my shoes in an attempt to play with them, sometimes he stops and sometimes he just gives me a charming smile and starts playing with my shoes!!

8- When he’s tired from crawling and walking, he comes to my bed and leans and keeps making begging noise so that I put him on the bed next to me, then he squeals with joy and claps once he’s next to me!

9- Whenever any of us sits close enough with food on our lap, be it a sandwich or yoghurt, he starts making hungry noises and wouldn’t calm down until he is eating whatever it is!

10- I don’t think he likes cheese! He loves tomato, and would do anything for me to let him eat napkin!

11- He loves playing with all of Beem’s toys, especially when Beem is not home! Actually, he’s extra ctive and happy when Beem isn’t around…

12- When Beem is back from an outing, he smiles and cheers as he walked in and intentionally bumps his head to Beem’s as Beem rushes in to greet him, when they are playing together, their favorite game is crawl-racing, I like watching that!

13- Yesterday, as Baba and other family members were gathered to pray, he slept on his tummy on the prayer mat as to imitate them!!! I couldn’t believe it!!!

14- When either my sis or I are not paying enough attention to him, he keeps making peek-a-boo attempts until we notice him then he runs/crawls away :)

15- He sings himself before he falls asleep a long never ending “AAAaaaAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaasa” symphony :)

An evening with my family*

Act I

People: My parents, my kids, my baby sister, and I
Place: In the car, going out for a late lunch
Random Information: My dad insisted on driving because he feels sick when he’s not. I said I would choose the music if he does, and connected the ipod, and chose an Arabic play list to avoid sarcastic comments. Hanine y Son Cubano was playing their version of "2alby we mofta7o"

Beem: *pointing at a kiosk selling pepsi* da bta3 mammy
Goody: noo beem, da mesh beta3 mommy
Beem: la howa pepsi bta3 maaammy ah
My dad: soot meen da?
Me: a Lebanese singer and a Cuban band
Goody: no she’s Palestinian
Me: Hanine is Palestinian?
Goody: yes
Me: strange, I thought she was Lebanese!
Mom: Hanine meen, sa7bet el kiosk??


Act II

People: My kids, my baby sister, and me
Place: Home
Random Information: My baby sis helping Beem wear his home sandals so that he’d go to my dad downstairs, as I was changing Mocha’s diaper

Beem: *mumbling stuff*
Goody: sam3a ebnek?
Me: la2, bey2ool eh?
Goody: gomla phalsafeya
Me: eeh
Goody: ana mesh enty
Beem: aaaaaAAhhh

*Maat was at the Marcel Khalife concert. I hate her for not getting me tickets. I was considering disowning her, but she got me Pepsi on her way home, so I reconsidered.

Help!

He’s calling, over and over and over. Normally, I wouldn’t have even bothered answering him. Actually, I know all the reasons behind his calls, and I hate them, yet for some idiotic reason I am tempted to reconsider!

His aunt visited a couple of weeks before New Year’s; she was trying to offer –on his behalf- a civil divorce with some compromising from our side. I was willing to agree, only my dad brought up a very important point: he’s unreliable and fickle; there are no guarantees he’d stick to whatever we agree on, so let it be what the court rules even if it’s much less because it was never about the money, it is about him being taught a lesson that actions DO have consequences.

I love my dad’s idealism, and there is no room for criticism here; I am my father’s daughter when it comes to ideals and notions I guess. And he has done me wrong, and killed something in me that I know will never be brought back to life. I have accepted my loss; but it would be rewarding to know that there is a price for him to pay, and that has nothing to do with holding a grudge.

It was mentioned to his aunt that he never even bothered asking to see the kids, to which she argued, that he was too proud. My father told her that pride should never come between a good loving parent and his/her kids, and asked her why pride has not stopped him from asking for the gifts he got me as his wife!! She was speechless, of course she should be; this what she got for defending an idiot and a coward (I say it without malice, I promise; it’s merely what he is).

So now I understand; she probably talked to him, she probably blamed him for making her look so bad with his weak paternal instincts and senseless logic, she probably went on and on about how adorable my kids have become; how beam makes up words and sometimes sentences, and how mocha is starting to have more significant features. Perhaps it had awaken something in him; however, whatever her words had awakened, it will dose off again the moment he discusses it with any of the dumb acquaintances with whom he’d been sharing private details.

Anyway! He keeps saying he wants to see them. I don’t mind! Well, actually I kinda do, but I know better to not let it get in the way of him communicating with them. Nonetheless, I don’t want to traumatize my sons; he can only see them if he promises to be a good father to them. He can’t just drop by and see them because he feels guilty or pressured; guilt and pressure won’t last and I wouldn’t want either of my kids to be unhappy missing him because he’s no longer feeling guilty or pressured to be present in their lives. He can’t just back off from this promise like he did with the promises he made to me, he can’t; I won’t let him.

He says he wants to meet at the club, and I say it has to be at home, where it’s safe and warm, and where I can distract beam if he cries as his father leaves. He objected to coming at our place because “ana ma2darsh adkhol el beet da tany”, to which I responded “your aunt dakhaleto, was she not welcomed?” It was a long futile argument that probably cost me a ticket as I drove while having it.

He doesn’t understand me, he never did. He thinks I am using my kids to punish him, but I am not! I don’t want another scene at the club with my son breaking my heart by refusing to leave with me. I don’t want my son to start saying his name when he wouldn’t care enough to show. My sons deserve nothing less than a good loving father; if they can’t have him, then they will not need to compromise for less.

If he doesn’t want to visit them at home because he’s too proud to set his feet where he has repeatedly insulted me, fine, we can arrange to have that visit at my aunt’s, the one who knows about all that.

However, I know he will say a lot of crap about not wanting to go there either; I also know why. He wouldn’t be able to bring his other two aunts, or his cousins who practically kicked me out, or his grandma who had falsely accused me of never greeting her in the morning. He would feel too awkward being hosted by people who would rather have nothing to do with him, and it should embarrass him.

I don’t care! This is another consequence he has to deal with. He has to be reminded of his insensitiveness every time he sees my sons, he has to feel uncomfortable and he has to spend time telling his family what the kids look like now, because they won’t be able to come and see for themselves, unless of course the can get over the discomfort. Except their cousins, they are never allowed in even if they did apologize to me in person, I would rather they don’t because there is really no need when I won’t be accepting their apology.

Am I being too hard? Perhaps! Should I give him room to try and talk me out of it? I don’t know, I don’t think I should.

I can’t help but wonder though, what if he really misses them and wants to see them??? Wouldn’t I be denying my kids a semi-reformed father in case he’s true?? My mind is going back in circles all over again! I am not sure what to decide. HELP!

More thoughts…

Nora left me an extremely nice comment right here saying that my kids will recover from whatever negative effect my divorce could have on them. My reply to her took some form of pros-and-cons analysis, but it went on and on, I though I better put it here since here is where I think out loud. I just reread it right now and realized it got much longer here!

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.

I need a break…

I really don’t wanna bit$# anymore, I just don’t… but this is where I vent, so here it goes…


On Mom…

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.