Mothering: Excerpt from Safe or Sound

I had the best evening with Kooky and Semsem, after Salem and Maha left. I resisted them so much; they wanted me to watch a Disney movie with them and I had piles of plates in the sink and wanted to finish tomorrow's lunch because my schedule is really tight with six hours of teaching three different classes and I still had to prepare some materials.  I said OK, when you decide what movie to watch, come and tell me and I will watch as much as I can when I clean up the kitchen. But then Kareem said,' Mama, do you know what I really want to be right now?  I want to be your mother and you my son.'  When I asked why, he said "because then I will choose to sit and watch the movie with you!" I was amazed at the logic of my sweet five year old son, and his way with words. It was simple as that. And I just could not resist it.

I went to the kitchen, turned the stove off and closed the door so that I will not see how badly the kitchen needed cleaning. TO HELL WITH THE KITCHEN!  I sat on the big sofa between the twins and we played The Lion King, again , maybe for the fiftieth times, but it felt different this one time.  We got a blanket because it was cold; we snuggled, laughed, tickled, and hugged. We cried when Mufasa died and sang along with Simba and Nala and danced with "I just can't wait to be king" and roared like a lion till we almost lost our voices.

 I wish I can do this more often . l wish I have time to engage with the twins in fun activities and stop being a caterer for food, a driver or a teacher. I realized after that night how much I needed them and how much I wanted to be a real mother. Mothering is not something you do by instinct; you really need to learn and my best teachers so far are my lovely twins. 

Morning Tension (excerpt from Safe or Sound?)

Salem stood leaning lazily on the kitchen door watching Hala;  she was busy stirring something in a big pot then she added vegetables inside it and covered it. She had already dressed for work and she had rolled the long sleeves of her blouse up.

What are you doing in the kitchen; it is only five a.m.  the smell woke me up, he finally announced his presence.

Oops, sorry.  We’re having a dish party for the new comers in the department and I am making koushary and lentil soup; I did not fry the onions yet to avoid the smell; you smelled the cakes maybe?

How nice, cooking at dawn for your Indian, Bengali, Pakistani and lovely Saudi colleagues and complaining every day about cooking for you own kids!

Hala wanted to remain calm; she will wake the kids up in half an hour and Salma will give her a hard time before she leaves for school;   then she will six hours of teaching.  She started to scoop the rice and lentils out of the tefal pot with a big spoon and place it in the oval stainless steel serving dish, then she placed the lid on the pot again and opened the oven and placed it inside to keep it warm for lunch. She moved mechanically like a robot and the tense muscles in her shoulders and back started to ache.

I will serve his breakfast first; I don’t want the kids to feel any tension; it is enough what Salma feels about school and abayas and all. She behaves like someone taken to jail to serve a life sentence, every morning.  

She removed the dishes of boiled egg halves and the chick peas from the table in the center of the kitchen to the other side. She will use these later for decorating kousahary. She started serving cheeses and cold cuts right from the fridge. Salem followed her movement from the fridge to the cook to heat something in a pan and sat at the table. "Do you expect me to eat that cold stuff?"

I am preparing foul and scrambled eggs.

Do we have any konafa? I want a piece with tea.

I ran out of Konafa…let me write it on the list or I will forget; she said as she moved to write something on a long piece of paper she placed under a magnet on the freezer door.. but I have some cakes for your tea, I have just baked it.

"An ideal wife", he said with a tone of ridicule; see I don't use the words you hate anymore…. I said" ideal", not "good". Satisfied?

Thank you! She still tried to act naturally, she had prayed God to help her remain calm for Salma's sake and now it is Salem playing on her nerves and looking for a morning scene. She hoped that he will eat and go back to sleep again before he pumps into Salma, witnesses her ugly morning rituals and starts to fight with her.   She had never hated school back in Egypt; even in kindergarten.  Poor Salma, she misses being with Kareem in the same class, and she misses her old friends and  the club and swimming under the sun rays every Friday morning and tennis practice twice a week.  Even though they go to an international school, they still have to follow Saudi school regulations, separating boys and girls and forcing girls to wear black abayas on top of the uniform.

Food in China

A family picnic in Crown Plaza  

We have been warned about the food in China before we came and had prepared a list of  restaurants that offer Halal food but we were disappointed all the same.  It is not that Chinese food is bad or tasteless- my kids used to eat at Panda house and Chinese corner in Cairo all the time- but we could never make sure if it had pork or not.

In all the regular Chinese restaurants  we tried , there were no English menus and few waiters spoke English.  Since all the Chinese we knew was "nee haw" and " "cece", communication was impossible in any way.  Our list of Islamic restaurants was no good too because the ones near our hotel turned out to be under construction or mobilization! For the first couple of days we still had hope to find one and when we finally got there, we were totally disillusioned.   

The smell was awful, the place looked dirty and ,to our surprise and dismay, there was nothing Islamic about the menu; they had many pork dishes and even more, they had some donkey meat.   The smell of boiled cabbage permeated the place and I felt a sudden urge to vomit or cry, neither of which I could do in front of my kids!  The only beef they had in that restaurant was served raw with vegetables and we had to do the cooking in their hot pot!  No offense meant or anything, but in our Egyptian culture, you go to a restaurants  to be served and pampered, not to do the cooking yourself. I was in no mood to try any new cooking experience.  Had I not been tired to death with every muscle and joint aching after four days of traveling and sightseeing, I would have loved the idea of a hot pot on a restaurant table and cooked for my family in the manner I used to do for the last twenty years. BUT I COULD NOT DO IT THEN OR THERE.  That was way too much.  Nora almost fainted from fatigue and disgust and we decided to leave after ordering two dishes that no one could eat.

But at least we knew better than trying to find other restaurants, Halal or no Halal, we will not set foot into any Beijing restaurants   again.   

After four days of near starvation, we decided to save what remained of our energy by eating a big lunch in the kids' hotel room. We finally came across 711 and there we got the only foods we could recognize: toast, cheese, boiled eggs, Pepsi, fruits and chocolates.  Since the hotel room had only one small table and one chair, on which I sat in front of the treats, everyone else sat on beds and waited for their turn to eat. I had never seen my children so happy to eat the cheese and eggs  sandwiches I made. They savored every bite of the food with huge appetite and asked for more!  That was one hell of a picnic.  We still love China!

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

sweet little things 2

Yes, I insist; life can be joyful. You must work hard to spot happiness anywhere and grab it. It will not come easy to you if you do not do your best to seize it.

 Despite the traffic jam, despite the rubbish heaps on every street corner, despite drivers cursing one another and homeless children selling tissue paper as a means of begging; despite non-stop TV commercials urging you to pay the last pound in your pocket to help save the life of poor sick children, or participate in the education of promising needy youth; despite all the misery in your heart and around you.

Despite everything… life can be joyful; life must be joyful. Don’t lose faith; don’t surrender to the tensions and worries; open yourself to all possibilities; open your eyes and heart to the little things that are the substance of happiness and life; look in the eyes of your child; listen to their pure laughter; rejoice in their unconditional love and acceptance of you; touch their hair and hug them; try to feel their heart beats; try to indulge in their little dreams and to make them come true. The sight of a beautiful bird on a tree, a lovely flower in a garden; the smell of baking, a lovely dress on a girl with smooth hair can change your mood. Just keep your senses open to the world and be keen on receiving little joyful things that will make you happy… for a while. Yes, happiness is brief, but it is worth taking the trouble to find.    

Excerpt 3 The Good Wife

Hala went into the sitting room, the one saved for guests and never used by the family, the chairs that usually outgrew their owners and see more than one generation.  The rocking chair, her mother's, looked inviting with its soft crimson velvet fabric and the golden embroidered cushions on it,  but she was too restless to sit down. She was attracted by the patch of sunshine outside and went straight to the window to get a feeling of warmth that she desperately needed. She was faced with the neighbor's laundry hanging, neatly organized: small pieces on the front lines, followed by the bigger ones. The clothes looked whiter than any clothes she had ever washed or hanged; the type of radiant whitens that Hala believed was possible only in Ariel commercials.  How she envies that woman and admires her housekeeping skills, without even knowing her name. They talked only twice, once when their eyes met while both were busy hanging clothes and the second time when they met by the elevator and she took the opportunity to ask her about her maid. She has always wanted a maid to come once a week but for years, Salem did not agree, especially after the incident of the little servant they had when the twins were little. He does not trust strangers, he would simply announce and if she insisted he would proceed with the "the good wife" sermon. A good wife does this, a good wife does that and would go on forever and she would drop the subject and try to be a "good wife". 

Sweet little things

Sweet little things

"Tomorrow, tomorrow , I love you tomorrow; you're always a day away!!"

Do you remember those lyrics from the lovely Annie movie as the sweet little girl sings for her dog promising it things will get better tomorrow? Here is the link to remind you:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZ5DORLwJY0&feature=related

This is the motto I live by; actually all Egyptians do; we are too indulged in the struggles and disappointments of everyday life to feel an ounce of simple joy.

We are used to postponing joy and happiness and well -being to the future.  We have no time for joy; no time for the little sweet things in life that make it bearable, if not happy. Happiness, fulfillment, peace, and even health are "always  a day away", like the little movie heroine promises. Nothing is to be enjoyed today. For us, today is just a passage to tomorrow and the tomorrow we all wait for never comes.

 A heart-felt laugh, a peaceful evening with soft music, a heart-warming conversation with a true friend, a good movie with the family, a hug to a little child, an outing to the park are little sweet things that we miss, things that can change the quality of our life and boost our energy and spirits. 

I remember the time when I lived with my family in the STATES and was amazed at how Americans enjoy their time at no cost at all.  The walk in the park with the kids, the watermelon festivals; the marathons in the early mornings, and my all time favorite activity: strawberry picking are just a few examples.

 When the strawberries are ripe in spring, families are allowed to go into the fields, each person with an empty container to fill it with strawberry and spend great time picking it.  My twins were only seven months old when we took them to the strawberry field with the older kids. That was one of the most fun and enjoyable days we ever had.  The tiny green plants ornamented with fresh red strawberries ready for picking; the children racing to get the largest and reddest fruits, then running to wash and eat them, the lovely photos we took of the twins sitting on the ground and fighting one another to get the bucket full of strawberries. The fun and joy we experienced that day as a family is still remembered by all of us.

 Why cannot we enjoy the tedious days we live by adding a sweet strawberry on top of all what we do. Let's all have fun; let's all enjoy the present moment because it is all we have for now. Let's hope tomorrow will be better but never forget that today counts more.

Sophisticated (excerpt 2)

Sophisticated 

   The word "sophisticated" has always fascinated me                  

for no apparent reason; maybe because it had no equivalent in Arabic, my mother tongue, an exact equivalent, that is. I was fond of Arabic and believed it is richer and more expressive than English (which is true) but ever since I started to study English literature, I fell in love with English. I kept the little dictionary uncle Mahmud gave me in my handbag all the time and opened it on the bus whenever I had nothing else to read; never bothering about my colleagues who believed me to be a book worm and joked  about my transistor dictionary. It was the eighties and   and students would carry transistor radios and later Walk-mans and earphones, while I was reading a novel or writing in my diaries on our way to and from the university.

On our very first drama class the word "sophisticated" acquired new connotations for me When Dr. Negm, trying to explain its meaning picked me out of the fifty nine students as an example of a "sophisticated" lady. That was something, for your professor to ask you to join him in front of the whole class and  act like a living model of he a fictional character as sophisticated.I found the situation very flattering; and I loved the way other students started to elaborate on the meaning of the word just by looking at me: classy, elegant, and expensive, of good taste, has great expectations. The blood rushed to my face and Deena told me I looked ridiculousness and thus negated the main point of being sophisticated with my shyness. She believed that being daring is an essential component of being a sophisticated person and this, both I and Deena were sure, was never part of my personality. Deena believed that with my neat, trendy French clothes, shoes and bags, my styled hair and a touch of expensive perfume, together with my perfect pronunciation of a language that other students struggled with, I might pass as one. But to those who know me well I am a shy, dreamy and naive girl. Deena was my best friend since first grade and sometimes I felt she knew me better than myself.  She  was right; an attractive appearance, love of literature, dreams, and "great expectations" are not enough qualifiers  for a sophisticated person.  I was thrilled for the description all the same and I tried to maintain the "shell of circumstances" that made others think I was sophisticated. Can you blame an eighteen year old student to be thrilled when described with the big word "sophisticated"?   

Excerpt (1) from Safe or Sound? kitchen scene

Hala struggled to grasp the idea and keep it at the back of her mind; it was a smart solution to the most complicated problem in her thesis that kept bothering her for the last month. It popped into her mind like a fire work of all shapes and colors as she put the meat in boiling water to cook for lunch. She knew she would have to work hard and long to put the sparkling idea into shape so that she would not have to miss up the rest of the chapters she had already finished ; the chapters approved by both the supervisors who rarely agree on anything at all. Those damn university regulations never fail to make my life a torture since I started writing my PhD.

Hala knew for sure that Salem would be upset if the food was not ready the moment he comes home. So she did not leave the kitchen to write her idea; instead, she decided to move the meat, which refused to cook after half an hour, to the pressure pot and start right away with the salad.  She moved nervously form the sink, where she had soaked lettuce in water and vinegar, to the fridge, to get tomatoes and cucumbers. She heard the key click in the door announcing Salem's arrival. "Thank God, I have washed the vegetables last night" she murmured to herself. She grabbed the cutting board from the rack where it was hanged and  the salad bowl from the top shelf and started to make the salad. She heard Salem's steps as he went to the bathroom then the living room and knew she would better hurry up and serve his lunch.  She ran to the fridge to get the dressing she prepared before as her mother advised. She was grateful that everything was ready when she suddenly detected a faint burning smell; Oh my God, now I have to start rice pudding all over again; she turned off the cook and took the plates to the dining table. I will soak some rice and it will be ready by the time he wakes up after his nap. I am not going to sleep anyway; I will have to work this long chapter out or I will lose track of how to do it.

Excerpt (1) from my upcoming novel: 

Safe or Sound?

The best shopper ever (2)!!!

The best shopper ever (2)!!!

"I want you to take the size of Nora's pants right now. I will call you back in five minutes. I am standing at the counter with two sizes and I want to see which one fits better", my husband says in his tenth oversees call to inquire about the size of this pair of pants.

In the first call, Mohamed asks what size he should buy. Then he doubts that the same size in his hand is too tight, so he makes another call to ask us to measure the waist of her favorite jeans.

The third time , he calls to let me know how clever he was since the size 30 I told him to get for her is too tight and that he wants to get 32.  The next call is about the length, and the following one is about her favorite color. He is puzzled when she tells him that she likes  red, green, blue, purple and orange and asks him to chose for her. A few minutes later he calls to tell me that he bought all five colors of the same pants!!!

A few moments later, he calls again about a dress for me or a T. shirt for Ali and we go about the whole process of taking the measures all over again, then the call about the colors and then the final decision that he will get all three available colors!!!

I freak out; not because of this fatherly devotion and generosity but because of the patience and physical effort he exerts to buy clothes for all of us and always forgetting about himself.

It is not just about clothes, but all other stuff.  If you are following the blog regularly, you must know by now his obsession with appliances and gadgets and electronics when you read "Waffle Makers and Friends". Mohamed is always travelling, and since he is a very family bound person, living most of the time without his family, he finds solace in shopping for the family. It is a psychological need that urges him to roam all malls and shops in the provincial town where he works looking for the things that we like and buy them for us.  There is also an element of skill that I should not overlook; the man has a great taste, and he is a good opportunity hunter.

When I or one of the children visit him, the daily chores of shopping double or triple as he insists to take us to all the places that he roams when we are not around. The last time I visited him I was amazed at the circle of friends he made while shopping for us. Whenever we go into a mall, all shop assistants and check out persons hurry to greet him. They insist that he sees all the new arrivals and check out all the offer items. One Indian salesman even hid some items for him, without asking, so that he can choose whatever he likes. I was tongue tied; I was sure they did this for him not because of tips, tips for sales assistants happens only in Egypt.  All sales person automatically sympathize with the big Egyptian guy who spends most of his time, and money shopping for his family!  He is a valued customer everywhere.  

In the supermarket I insist we get two trolleys and each goes his/her way to finish the list quickly. Usually, I finish first and want to check out and leave.  When I call him a hundred times to come to the counter, there is still a round of shopping that he will make; he starts to take stuff out of my trolley and replaces it with cheaper and usually better quality things from his trolley.  I feel really stupid; no wonder I really hate shopping for groceries. When we go home, I find he got double the list I wanted, all good stuff that I do not need!!

Is not that enough to make my husband the best shopper ever!!!  Please say Mash' Allah after reading this and wish for a great husband like mine.

The best shopper ever!!!

Women are said to be very picky and persistent shoppers; they can spend hours, even days to get the right colors, sizes and models for themselves.  Well, I do not belong to that clan of women, not any more. Ever since I embraced my lovely forties, I stopped hitting the malls unless I desperately have to.  I get tired so quickly moving from one shop to another or from the fitting room to the counter. I can proudly say I am one of the fastest shoppers and usually I know what I want and never bother finding something better or cheaper once I lay hands on something I like.

When the twins ask me to accompany them to buy sportswear, which they do almost every week, or outfits in City Stars, they know I will not last for more than an hour before I start to complain how tired I am.  They know I will soon collapse in the nearest chair and ask them either to buy or to leave.  I feel guilty about it every time, but I cannot help it. City stars does hurt me in a way that no other mall does; it leads me to hypertension or some kind of hysteria and the maximum time I am capable of spending there never exceeds a couple of hours which is never enough to buy even a pair of socks.

I was not like that with my older kids; I was younger and more energetic; I could shop for hours and move from one mall to another to find better prices or to compare prices before buying.  So, the unlucky twins created a shopping code with me: they would go with their friends first, tour the mall a hundred times and locate the things they want to buy, and then invite me to the final shopping tour, pretending they want to have my opinion when all they want is the money!!

I guess that leads me to be the worst shopper, right? But the whole point of the blog is the best shopper ever, right? Guess who? I won’t leave in suspense till tomorrow. The best shopper ever is my dear husband. You want to know how, well, this I will till you tomorrow.  

A Magical Morning

Magical  Morning

I am going through a magical morning!! Do you know those mornings when everything seems to go right? Well, in my morning everything does not only seem to go right, it is really going magical and I thank God for it.

I woke up after a good night's sleep, rested and fresh and above all pain-free.  I don’t really remember the last time I woke up without pain, without having to drag myself out of bed and keep reminding myself I have to wake up and go about the daily routines, to remind myself that with the help of pain killers and medications I can still function and be of help to myself and my lovely kids.

It is not the time to dwell on pain and negative feelings; this is a magical morning and I will make every bit of it go as so.  First thing in the morning, while still in bed I remembered last night's dream in which I was talking to Abdulla in our living room.  My morning conversations with Abdulla, in reality, do make my days every day. There is that sense of unconditional love and acceptance and encouragement from his part that makes me feel life is worth living, that pain does not really matter as long as I can still be with him. If you are reading the blog regularly you probably know by now that Abdulla is my 20 year old son, basketball champion and engineering student; he is my hero, my biggest accomplishment in life; my pride and joy.

Well, let's go back to the magical morning I have which obviously was preceded by my dream about Abdalla, who is in Norway on a student internship right now.  In the dream, Abdalla had decided to come home, only four days after he travelled, which are the exact number of days he left Egypt. Of course, I was radiating happiness that he is back, sitting by my side and slightly touching my shoulder with his head in his lazy manner when he wakes up and finds me reading the newspaper on the big brown coach in our living room.

Was it dreaming about Abdalla that made my morning magical?  I know that he will be reading the blog and he won’t like me to say no about this.  No, I had another lovely one that contributed to my magical morning in her most sweet and insisting manner. Nora, my sweet little daughter and mother, had been insisting that I "must" read her favorite book The Magic by Rhonda Byrne; convincing me that it will change my attitude to life and help me get rid of all the pains.  To be honest, I did not believe her, I even mocked her: what does she know about pain any way? How can a book alleviate my pain when all the doctors and their medications and alternative therapy failed to do this for years and years?

Maybe it wasn't the book that helped me; it was Nora's attitude, her sincere desire to help me; her faith that things can be better every day and that life has lovely things to give for those who insist.

The book however helped me appreciate the things I took for granted every day and never thanked God for. Things as simple as having running water to shower in the morning, or a kettle to boil water for tea, or a cozy chair to sit into and relax, never crossed my mind as worth gratitude, despite the fact that without them my life can be pretty hard.  I prayed and thanked God for my lovely twins, for my whole family and for the little things that I see and use every day without paying attention or giving thanks.

As I started the lap top to check my mail, I found another very dear face that I missed for a week; my husband was on line, which he never have time to do that early in the morning!!  All my loved ones insist to show up this morning, Abdulla in a dream and Mohamed on Skype, what a lucky woman I am. later I stumbled into a dear friend that I haven't seen for a long time, Eman Akeel, on facebook, and added her to my list of friends.  

I opened the door to get the newspaper only to find another magical present in it. If you remember my earlier blog "The battle of the Swan Lake", it was there in front of me on the news paper, printed in my dear newspaper, Al Watan  in Mr. Mahmoud Salah's page, decorated with a beautiful picture of swans!!!! What a Magical morning.

 When I posted the Battle of the Swan's lake in the blog, it was the most popular of all the posts, and I had many comments about it that made me happy and ready to go on with the blog forever. But seeing my words in print, on my favorite newspaper felt more magical, more real, more accessible to wider readers who do not have the privilege of surfing the net and coming accidently across my dear blog. I wrote a letter thanking Mr. Salah, which I will post to the blog, and I forgot to send him more blogs in case he wants to publish other pieces. Well, this can wait; let me not ruin my magical morning with any passive ideas.

To top all the lovely incidents of my morning with a sherry, Allosh, my sweet Ali, woke up, earlier than ever and started his guitar training. Thus, I enjoyed his magical playing as I went through
 my daily chores. 
Then, OM Sherief showed up, earlier than usual, and brought with her a breakfast that I really craved for a long time but did not dare to eat: foul soaked in (El Zait El Har) and fried eggplants and oven hot (Balady) Bread. I made green salad to go with this "explosive"
breakfast and we shared a yummy meal and strong tea.

Unlike usual, I felt an urge to talk to someone right then. So I called two of my best friends, Nihal, who arrived from Tunis last night and Reem who left Saudi Arabia after 12 years of working there and finally came home.  How sweet it is to be surrounded by my loved ones.

Then, I made the brave decision to sit down and write this blog for
 my wonderful readers, with my energy in full bloom and my spirits soaring to the sky and I hope you will notice the difference.

 Is there any better "magical" ways to start the day other than this?

If you have other lovely ways to start a magical morning, please let me know, but for now I am content and thankful for all the people I have in my life and for all the blessings that God granted me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Waffle Makers and Friends

Waffle Makers and Friends

I never knew my kids were so popular at school or in clubs until my dear husband surprised me with a waffle machine.  Mohamed is really fond of electronics, gadgets and recently he got interested in kitchen appliances though he never cooked a meal or got near the kitchen. So, he buys whatever items he likes even if we do not really need them and sometimes we have to read the manuals to figure out what they are used for. 

The waffle machine, however, was the best of all my husband's surprises because Ali is the master of waffle eating outside and he later became a professional waffle maker at home.  He got me many recipes from the internet, played many flashes of waffle making on you tube and we started experimenting with the new machine until we came up with a heavenly mixture.  The results were AMAZING WAFFLES, no kidding, soft and fluffy and yummy and more important than anything else, CHEAP. The only thing that bothered me was the huge amounts of Neutella and chocolate syrup the kids drowned the waffles with, because these were not good for their health or my budget.

 The waffle machine changed my life and revolutionized the way I made breakfast every morning.   For the first month or so after we got it,   the kids will only have waffles for breakfast so I started to make big amounts of the dough and keep it refrigerated so I don’t have to start from scratch every morning.

News do really fly fast among teenagers and their cyber world.  One morning they had photos of their waffles sent to their friends and the very next morning I started having early guests for breakfast!  I woke up every morning to make a dozen of waffles instead of four or three and every week I would shop for more chocolate syrup and Neuttella than you can ever imagine.   We also tried new flavor like strawberry or caramel sauces.  It was then I started to hate the waffle maker and secretly wish it to vanish from my life.

One evening I got a call from Abdalla asking if we have waffle dough because he has a friend with him. Actually I did not have any but I enlisted the help of chief Ali and we started with our daily routine and made a huge bowl of dough to survive for two or three days.  It turned out that Abdalla's friend is not just one person BUT a whole bunch of huge hungry guys who just finished training and came straight from the club.  Such huge players with big appetites, Masha Allah will not be satisfied with less than a dozen waffles EACH. 

There were no dough left for next morning and the kids had to settle with cheese and eggs ever after for breakfast because the waffle machine did not survive the raid we had the night before.

What an evil mother I am !  I actually felt happy that day and woke up next morning to a house empty of morning guests.   I felt relieved and liberated;  I  did not have a waffle maker anymore and the kids stopped passing by.

 But again my husband, just like my kids, never fails to surprise me; he got me a new waffle maker and it is still working.  We make the best waffles in town and I am proud of it.

Don't be shy;  I will be more than happy to serve you ALL waffles if you keep reading and commenting on the blog.  Really; you are all welcome !   

abeerxx66@yahoo.com

The Avengers and our Great Victory

The Avengers and our Great Victory

"Mummy, Let's celebrate our great victory," the twins said triumphantly, holding their school certificates."

Yes, they did pass all subjects, even Arabic!!!!    That was enough reason for me to rejoice.  We decided to start the day with the cinema and then proceed with other activities in the mall that would definitely end with a crazy shopping spree that will ruin the budget for months.  But what the heck!  Let us rejoice, the twins do not succeed every day. They managed to defeat the evil books of math's and physics and chemistry and they deserve a day out as much as I do.

Both of them know I only watch comedies or romance because action or terror movies irritate me to the point of sickness. When I tried to be descent and asked them to choose the movie, they picked The Avengers and in 3 D. Can you imagine!!
It is not just that I freak out when I watch regular action movies, even the lame action movies like those by Ahmed Elsakka or Ahmed Ezz, let alone real American action. 

The movie is great, really. It has five or six superheroes instead of one:  Stark, the iron man, Hulk, the green man, Patricia some beautiful super spy,  Mr. America with special powers and Thor from outer space!!  What a happy woman I was to see them all together!!  .  All of these superheroes are busy beating and kicking and fighting one another in a desperate attempt to show their superiority which we already know until they join forces to defeat the evil Luky.  In 3D,  this makes you feel you are actually inside the battle, part of the struggle and you get your share of the blows and shots and missiles and all sorts of things are flying into your face for three hours. 

"So what is the big deal? It is an action movie isn’t it? " I can hear you saying.   The big deal is that I cannot handle any of the things that everyone else find fun and interesting and thrilling. Seriously,  I freak out at high sounds due to the nerves that raising four kids had damaged long ago.  With each blow, my muscles ached and stiffened and my nerves felt like electricity wires without insulation.

I seized the opportunity of the break and went out to calm down and relax for a while.  I stayed out as long as I could maybe I could save myself some battles or a few kicks and blows. When I went inside to find that the kids were already worried about me and believed I was lost but are still watching the great movie.  Anyway, the film ended with the expected triumph of the superheroes over the evil Luki and his army of metal dinosauric flying creatures.  Everyone is happy and clapping and no one can imagine what happened to me; I was damaged beyond repair.

Why I am telling this story?  Well, I have my reasons, and they are good ones too. First, I want to celebrate what my twins called their "great victory" and I am proud I did it their way and survived the trauma of the action movie.

Second, I want to advise all mothers to save themselves the trouble of attending such a movie. Believe me; you have enough action in your life with your kids, especially if they are tenth graders like my sweet twins!!!

abeerxx66@yahoo.com

Sent from my iPad

Words for my Father

Words for my Father

This May I turned 47 and you 74; is not this something? Sharing the same digits of our age for a whole year?
 I wish I can share more of your qualities, mindset, and deeds!  This man is great in his own special way that makes you wonder how one person can help so many people willingly and devotedly without ever waiting for a thank you?

He helped me and my brothers and sister, and he still supports all of us in all possible means. You may think it is his duty as a father to do so, but he does it in the most casual and natural manner that would not tell you he is there; he is the guardian angel helping and protecting others without being visible to them.    Complete self-denial and unconditional love is what he is capable of with all people, not just his sons and daughters but his brothers and sisters, his in-laws, his neighbors, his colleagues and  those working for him, with strangers on the street. The word father to me is the equivalent of natural kindness, essential goodness, devoted care and real humanity.  My father has the capacity for pure, unconditional love that can change the world for a better place.

Dear father, I remember the nights you spent awake because I had exams and you won’t sleep before you made sure I did.  I remember the early mornings when you took me to the train station before 6 a.m. to be able to attend my lectures in Cairo.  I remember the times you spent by mother when she got sick and you insisted to do everything for her, no help accepted from anyone.  I remember the first contact lenses you went into so much trouble to get for me because you knew I hated wearing glasses, and the times you took me to the tailor in the middle of the night to get a new dress to wear for the exam, every exam.  You are a great father, husband, brother and an amazing human being.

Father, there is no way I can repay your love and kindness and care. No words to give you your due description; no deeds can thank you enough for being there for me, available all the time.   You are my model, my ideal and I only aspire I can be a fraction of who you are for those around me.  May Allah grant you health and wealth and happiness and keep you safe and sound for all of us.

Your loving daughter.

Abeer Mostafa Elgamal

The Dream

 Diaries of a Driving Mother

"Watch out Mummy!!! Watch out; he is breaking your mirror", Nora screamed and then a smashing sound deafened my ears as I woke up terrified, but grateful that the accident was only a dream. I felt like a helpless little animal being hunted by a huge brutal one. Our black Lancer miraculously turned into a little rabbit chased by a dark vicious wolf that aimed at biting its left ear before devouring it.

I did not know how much I hated driving until I had that dream. Driving through Cairo traffic is a nightmare; it is a  a circus in which you perform without being trained. I spend half my days driving my twin teenagers, Nora and Ali, to private lessons, tennis training, doctor appointments, and outings with friends. Driving does not only strain my back and neck- having to spend hours tied to the car seat in streets that look like clogged arteries- but it also sucks all my energy, devours my nerves and raids my dreams. 

A driving woman in a male-oriented society triggers all kinds of reactions which men would normally repress in other situations. Whether they admit it or not, most men believe women should stay home to make "kofta" or "mahshy" and leave the outside world for them. Since they cannot afford to let their women stay home, men express their innermost feelings in malicious forms to women in the streets, and driving women get the largest share. That surely doubles the risks of my daily journeys with the twins.  

In my dream, I was driving the twins as usual, but we were heading to two different places at the same time. I kept driving back and forth in the same road "Tareek Al nasr", never reaching any destination. One moment I went in the direction leading to Al Mokatam, where they were supposed to have a private lesson, and the next I was in the opposite direction leading to Al Ahly club, Nasr city. I drove in my cautious, or rather "slow" manner, as my kids describe it. As it did in reality, my driving triggered two contradictory reactions in the twins, according to the destination I was heading.   When I drove in the direction of the club, they shouted "faster mummy, go faster, we will be late for the training" but when I went in the other direction, to the private lessons' center, they would be kind enough to support my lame driving saying: "take your time mummy; the teacher is never on time".

Usually, Nora is never silent on the way; she bugs me for one thing or another and interrupts my desperate attempts to focus on the road. All the time, she is planning for some event: a friend's surprise birthday party, an outing to the mall, a color festival, a paintball battle or a sand boarding day.  She is practical and clever enough to figure out that the best time to discuss the details of any of her projects with the driver, which is me, is when we are stuck in the car. At home I am always busy but in the mandatory prison which is our battered shark-faced Lancer, there is no way I can escape her. Sometimes I listen and sometimes I scold her to be able to totally focus my attention to the circus around me or I will lose control over our destiny.

"Mummy, we have to be there before five, it is the dead line for onsite registration". Nora decided enthusiastically.

"There where?" I dared to ask the stupid question as I maneuvered to avoid a sure attack from a microbus that aimed at my mirror.

Mummy, don't you ever listen to me?" Nora objected."

"I do sweetie, I do all the time. Where do you want to go? Is it tomorrow?" I tried to comfort her.

"Nooo, it is on Friday, we are going to the tennis colony for the championship."

"And where is that 'colony'? I tried to sound patient and gave Ali a quick look through the mirror, hoping that he might object to Nora's plan, but he was immersed in his blackberry chat as usual.

It is on Ismailia road 35 kilos away", she said."

I flinched at the thought of driving amongst the wildest trucks and buses on Cairo Ismailia road. I gathered my courage and said "we don’t have to join every championship; let's restrict ourselves to the ones in the city. You know I hate to drive on highways. What do you think Ali?" I tried to enlist his help with a quick look at him through the front mirror.

"Heh? What did you say Mum?" he inquired in his absent minded way.

"You are being a zombie again. Why don’t you leave that thing and join the conversation? I asked if that colony championship was really important?" I was starting to get really nervous.

"I don't want to go. If she goes I will join only to be with her." He said in the most causal manner that played on my nerves.

I was happy to get his support here but angry that he was letting his sister down as he always did when she needed him. I promised Nora I will think about it and tell her my decision when we go home.

Ever since they went to kindergarten, Ali and Nora did everything together. He was the lazy one; he wanted things just as much as she did but he did not exert any effort to get them; letting her do the buzzing job and fighting the whole battle for both of them. He played the king and she was the minister who had to carry out his plans. To me it was not fun or fair; it entitled him to sit and relax and let her do the dirty jobs, just like most women do in real life. It was not a game or a child's play as everyone around me insisted; it was a life-defining experience that will last forever. On most days she would carry both her and his school bags from class to the school gate where I waited them. He often ran to give me a hug while she toiled with the bags and it made me crazy that she did it voluntarily and he took it as his lawful right as the king!!  Every time I interfered to prevent his early male dominance and her submission, I regretted it because both of them have accepted the roles without any hard feelings and everyone blamed me for endangering their "twins" bond. My husband believed I worried too much about this matter that meant nothing to anyone but my "disturbed" mind which detects gender differentiation in every little behavior.

I did my best to accept their bond they way it is since they were both happy. Meanwhile, a question kept buzzing in my head: why cannot the "twins bond" work the other way round? I dared to ask my husband once and he simply asserted that it is the most natural thing in the world for the girl to "serve" her twin brother and that in time they will switch roles as he becomes a real man. "Honey, you are the only one who tries to go against the tide; just leave them alone to manage their own business", he wrapped the whole matter up in his cool nice manner that left me speechless.  And I tried to leave them alone, not all the time though. One time when they were in grade five they went too far and I had to pitch in. They were doing their finals when Ali gave Nora his exam sheet to answer for him before she answered hers. The teacher- who was once my student in college- was furious and called me and I rushed to school. It was not the act of cheating in this incident that drove me and Siham crazy; we were more concerned with the complete self denial Nora was capable of at such an early stage of her life. "That is it. I cannot leave the twins alone anymore and you have to help me fix their relationship", I told my husband furiously that day. But of course, I had to sail against the tide all by myself. I kept nagging them about the importance of co-operation, and the need of give and take simultaneously but nothing worked. I tried to be discreet and never accuse Ali of negligence or dominance but it seemed they both did not really care.

That night, after the dream, I decided I will not ride to the "colony" on Friday. I will take the day off, off housework, off the twins, off driving. "Dad will drive you safely and spend the whole day with you", I broke the news to them. I delegated the whole thing to my dear husband and let him sail against the tide for once.  

Abeer Elgamal
abeerxx66@yahoo.com