tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-337609572024-03-13T08:26:49.744-04:00Meet My Shadownohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.comBlogger442125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-38175167798772809252015-03-29T18:30:00.000-04:002015-03-29T18:33:40.628-04:00And here... we... go!I haven't been writing. You could argue, that, for a time, I hadn't been feeling - had put myself full force into today (wake up from a sleepless, baby-dominated night, drink coffee, get groceries, cook), tomorrow, the day after.<br />
Be at the front door at 7:15.<br />
Drop the kids of at 7:23.<br />
Back at the house at 7:28.<br />
Catch the 7:32 bus (maybe), or miss the 7:32 bus (probably).<br />
Sleep on the bus (check twitter, read articles, close eyes).<br />
And all the while there was a voice in the back of my head that said, 'where have you gone? There was a girl in there who used to <i>feel</i> everything so intensely, who sobbed when she cried and shrieked with delight when she laughed, and that girl has dulled and dimmed and quieted', and I would turn the knob down on the voice and say, 'That's just age, that's just maturity, that's just wisdom'.<br />
And when the voice reminded me about the last time I'd read Quran, or stood for Sunnah, or let myself <i>feel</i> in my prayer, I would turn her down too. 'God Knows I'm doing my best. God Knows I don't have time for Sunnah, I barely get enough sleep as it is. God Knows.' (Ignoring that God also Knew how many hours a week I spent on Facebook, on TV shows, on the finally-winning again Habs.)<br />
But no more.<br />
I'm ready to <i>feel</i> again. Ready to feel at a loss and for that to be okay, to feel good, or bad, or scared, or proud, and for that to be okay. To let myself be that small, tired, person because I don't need to know the answers. I don't need to know the plan because it's not my plan anyway. It's God's Plan. and it's going to be great. and that's a huge weight off.nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-23965828795476648212014-09-17T20:00:00.000-04:002014-09-17T20:00:00.382-04:00Baby
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tonight after you had taken your bottle in the dark and
quiet of your room, I couldn’t bring myself to put you down, couldn’t bring
myself to let you go, and so I stood there, a foot from the edge of the crib,
with your little hands draped around my neck and your head resting on my
shoulder, felt your tiny ribcage expand and contract with every breath as you
drifted into the precursors of sleep, felt you be, and just loved you, and just
missed you, and just poured all that love and all that missing into the space
around us. You are so still when you’re sleeping, so the opposite of your
little hurricane self when you’re awake, crawling or twisting or turning or
grabbing or pulling (on hair, clothes, toys, furniture, yourself or anything
you can reach, really.) And in that stillness I feel your vulnerability, your
not-even-one-ness, and it breaks my heart, makes my breath catch for a moment
in my throat, so that I have to remind myself to breathe again, to be ok with
it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You are little but getting bigger every day, growing in
tiny, imperceptible ways, learning, kitten-like in your mannerisms, your
noises, your expressions. I swear I have heard your purr. And I want the moment
next to your crib to last forever, but there are lunches to pack and clothes to
put away and even if I ignore them, the phone is ringing and your brother is
calling me urgently from his bedroom, where he’s probably put his pj’s on
backward, and I have to put you down, my love, I have to tend to other things
and other people, and pray that in the morning, I’ll get to hold you again in
peace, if only for a moment, before we go out into the tornado of the world
again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-68606074847568640502014-04-26T23:55:00.000-04:002014-04-26T23:55:24.158-04:00Motherhood<div class="p1">
I have lost the ability to put together multiple coherent sentences, sentences that matter, that mean something to someone else, sentences that discuss something other than mealtime or bedtime battles, clothing wars, potty training progress, teething or growth percentiles. </div>
<div class="p1">
I have lost the ability to read anything longer than 2000 words - unless you can show me pictures, unless they are shiny, or the target audience is 15.</div>
<div class="p1">
I have lost the ability to write, the words flowing off my fingers, through me and into a pen or onto a keyboard, writing unbidden, phrases coming faster than I can put them down somewhere permanent. On the rare occasion they do come, I am in the middle of bath time or bed time, my arms preoccupied with the rocking of an infant or the changing of a diaper, impossible to drop the task at hand. and by the time I get to the pen, the words are gone, vapours in the air, traces of what they were when I first thought them, gifts with the shortest lifespans, available only to those who can quickly, greedily hold them down.</div>
<div class="p1">
I have lost the ability to fall asleep at a moment’s notice just when I need that ability most, just when my opportunities for sleep come in 10 and 15 minute intervals, just when the duration between the end of the baby’s feeding and the pre-schooler’s rising is exactly that amount of time, lost the ability to power nap when the power nap would give me the most power, refuel me enough to keep my eyes open, my voice answering ongoing, random questions I’ve never considered - what is the sky? Who is grandpa’s brother? Are you going to wash your shirt because it’s green? </div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
my voice singing - alternately in English and then Arabic and then French, A-B-C, aliph-ba-ta-tha, the wheels on the bus go round and round, rocking the baby, my mind spinning with so much and so little. </div>
nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-54579204038351670392012-01-23T19:16:00.000-05:002012-01-23T19:17:09.854-05:00For my baby...<style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s that last moment before bed, when you’ve finished your bottle and we’ve read your Quran and I’m standing up to put you down into your crib, that last moment when I’m holding you around your chubby little waist and I pull you in for a kiss and tell you “tisbah ‘ala kheir’, that I want to last forever. No matter how tired I am, no matter what kind of day it’s been, that kiss on your cheek is never enough, that moment always, always ends too quickly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And you’re starting to squirm, even now, when I prolong it. When my lips don’t leave your cheek in sufficient time, when I go for a third, or a fourth, or a fifth. You know your routine: the room is dark, we’ve drank our milk, we’ve said our dua, don’t confuse me, Mama, I think now it’s time to sleep. But this is when I ache with my love for you. This is when I don’t know if I’ll be able to bear it to put you down, while you’re still so warm and so soft and so pudgy in my arms, while I’ve forgotten that you whined while we made dinner, or smacked me in the face, albeit playfully, while we sang and clapped. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">And then when you wake up at 2 a.m., I think to myself, “Dear God, sleep, Child!” and yet, right at bed time, I wish I could freeze time and stay standing there, suspended above your crib, holding you, rocking you, kissing your delicious little face with your fat little cheeks and your dimpled chin and your extra rolls of adorable. I wish I could freeze it and stay in that moment, just you and me and our love, before you want to run away, before you’re focused on impressing someone else, before you talk back and try to escape your homework, before life.</p>nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-39503945000265321002011-08-23T20:31:00.002-04:002011-08-23T20:34:33.775-04:00In Memory of JackYesterday, Canada lost one of our best and most caring politicians, NDP leader Jack Layton, to cancer. A couple of days before his death, Jack wrote this letter, which he left to Canadians. It's a beautiful and inspiring piece. And, just as Jack said, let's be hopeful:
<br />
<br /><p style="font-family: times new roman;">August 20, 2011</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;">Toronto, Ontario</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;"><em>Dear Friends,</em></p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;">Tens of thousands of Canadians have written to me in recent weeks to wish me well. I want to thank each and every one of you for your thoughtful, inspiring and often beautiful notes, cards and gifts. Your spirit and love have lit up my home, my spirit, and my determination.</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;">Unfortunately my treatment has not worked out as I hoped. So I am giving this letter to my partner Olivia to share with you in the circumstance in which I cannot continue.</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;">I recommend that Hull-Aylmer MP Nycole Turmel continue her work as our interim leader until a permanent successor is elected.</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;">I recommend the party hold a leadership vote as early as possible in the New Year, on approximately the same timelines as in 2003, so that our new leader has ample time to reconsolidate our team, renew our party and our program, and move forward towards the next election.</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;"><em>A few additional thoughts:</em></p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;">To other Canadians who are on journeys to defeat cancer and to live their lives, I say this: please don’t be discouraged that my own journey hasn’t gone as well as I had hoped. You must not lose your own hope. Treatments and therapies have never been better in the face of this disease. You have every reason to be optimistic, determined, and focused on the future. My only other advice is to cherish every moment with those you love at every stage of your journey, as I have done this summer.</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;"><i>To the members of my party:</i> we’ve done remarkable things together in the past eight years. It has been a privilege to lead the New Democratic Party and I am most grateful for your confidence, your support, and the endless hours of volunteer commitment you have devoted to our cause. There will be those who will try to persuade you to give up our cause. But that cause is much bigger than any one leader. Answer them by recommitting with energy and determination to our work. Remember our proud history of social justice, universal health care, public pensions and making sure no one is left behind. Let’s continue to move forward. Let’s demonstrate in everything we do in the four years before us that we are ready to serve our beloved Canada as its next government.</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;"><i>To the members of our parliamentary caucus:</i> I have been privileged to work with each and every one of you. Our caucus meetings were always the highlight of my week. It has been my role to ask a great deal from you. And now I am going to do so again. Canadians will be closely watching you in the months to come. Colleagues, I know you will make the tens of thousands of members of our party proud of you by demonstrating the same seamless teamwork and solidarity that has earned us the confidence of millions of Canadians in the recent election.</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;"><i>To my fellow Quebecers:</i> On May 2nd, you made an historic decision. You decided that the way to replace Canada’s Conservative federal government with something better was by working together in partnership with progressive-minded Canadians across the country. You made the right decision then; it is still the right decision today; and it will be the right decision right through to the next election, when we will succeed, together. You have elected a superb team of New Democrats to Parliament. They are going to be doing remarkable things in the years to come to make this country better for us all.</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;"><i>To young Canadians:</i> All my life I have worked to make things better. Hope and optimism have defined my political career, and I continue to be hopeful and optimistic about Canada. Young people have been a great source of inspiration for me. I have met and talked with so many of you about your dreams, your frustrations, and your ideas for change. More and more, you are engaging in politics because you want to change things for the better. Many of you have placed your trust in our party. As my time in political life draws to a close I want to share with you my belief in your power to change this country and this world. There are great challenges before you, from the overwhelming nature of climate change to the unfairness of an economy that excludes so many from our collective wealth, and the changes necessary to build a more inclusive and generous Canada. I believe in you. Your energy, your vision, your passion for justice are exactly what this country needs today. You need to be at the heart of our economy, our political life, and our plans for the present and the future.</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;"><i>And finally, to all Canadians:</i> Canada is a great country, one of the hopes of the world. We can be a better one – a country of greater equality, justice, and opportunity. We can build a prosperous economy and a society that shares its benefits more fairly. We can look after our seniors. We can offer better futures for our children. We can do our part to save the world’s environment. We can restore our good name in the world. We can do all of these things because we finally have a party system at the national level where there are real choices; where your vote matters; where working for change can actually bring about change. In the months and years to come, New Democrats will put a compelling new alternative to you. My colleagues in our party are an impressive, committed team. Give them a careful hearing; consider the alternatives; and consider that we can be a better, fairer, more equal country by working together. Don’t let them tell you it can’t be done.</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;">My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;">All my very best,</p><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> </span><p style="font-family: times new roman;">Jack Layton</p>
<br />nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-50596846018982991932011-05-31T23:04:00.001-04:002011-05-31T23:05:42.331-04:00This'll be the day that I die..If you like lipdubs, you will love this. And this is the first time I listened to the words of this song beyond the chorus. Rather melancholy, no?<br /><br /><br /><iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZPjjZCO67WI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-68858980659003849632011-03-21T13:42:00.000-04:002011-03-21T13:42:00.784-04:00The one in which baby acts like a bobblehead doll and also has a bald spotWhen Baby D was born, one of the mos noticeable things about him was his full head of black hair. It was everywhere on his head, beautiful and thick. Each nurse would note it when she came in to check on us or take his temperature.<br />After a few weeks though, it started thinning all over his head except right on top, so that soon he was down to a faux-hawk... Now, I've heard that babies often lose the hair they're born with, and that eventually it gets replaced with their "real" hair, so basically, you don't know if the colour or texture is going to stay the same. I've also heard that sometimes they're totally bald in between the two stages, and other times the old hair is falling out while the new hair is growing in, so you can't really tell it's happening.<br />All I know now is that, after thinning out for some time, Baby D's hair has been <em>seeming</em> to grow back in for the last three weeks or so. Of course, when you spend as much time, continuously, looking at something or someone, you usually can't see the change. It's like trying to figure out on a day-by-day basis if you're gaining or losing weight. It's basically impossible. So, while the hair on the sides of his head is maybe-sort-of growing back in, the hair on the back of his head is gone gone gone!<br />That's right ladies and gents. Baby D has a bald spot. It's not on the top, it's right on the back of his head. It's what my older sister lovingly refers to as a "pillow spot" and is apparently common with babies who sleep on their backs (which is basically the safe way for all babies to sleep)... Until they start sitting up, a lot of babies spend so much time on their backs that they essentially rub their heads clean of any hair there. Of course, the truly hilarious aspect of all of this is that he has hair again at the nape of his neck, so it looks like a really hilarious rat tale situation. I call his hair situation "the reverse mullet": it's party in the front, business in the back (and then a rat tale - heheh).<br />The other hilarious thing about him now is the bobblehead situation. While he learns to hold his head up, he's in this in-between stage where he seems to think he's a bobblehead. If he's sitting, he's bobbling constantly. I've seen this with all babies I know passing through his age and stage, so you'd think I'd get used to it, but instead, it never ceases to amuse and amaze me.<br />So, I have a balding, bobble-headed little man to take care of. And I couldn't be happier :)nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-35128705687862788112011-03-21T13:40:00.004-04:002011-03-21T13:42:43.502-04:00From the Mouths of Babes (part 4)This one comes to you from the UAE, courtesy of Abu Dhabi Angel.<br />The setting:<br />Angel is watching a program on TV in which they are eating hot dogs. At the same time, Abu Dhabi Mama is cooking burgers in the kitchen.<br /><br />Angel (in utter amazement):<em> "Mama, I can smell the food from the tv!"</em>nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-40322146064753075102011-03-14T19:28:00.002-04:002011-03-14T19:49:59.540-04:00Ode to SkypeAbout a year and a half ago, I wrote <a href="http://meetmyshadow.blogspot.com/2009/08/united-breaks-guitars-but-skype-steals.html">this</a> very frustrated post about a skype catch-22 wherein M and I lost our credit and couldn't call our family in Egypt. Well, since that time, I've become a super avid Skype user, and I felt they deserved a much-love shout out right here. It's only fair, since I took them to task when they were making me unhappy.<br /><br />Ode to Skype:<br /><br />My sisters live two airplanes away<br />timezones, miles, landmass and oceans between us<br />hours of sleep and waking upside down<br />or inside out<br />Days and nights reversed<br />Lives inverted<br /><br />My sisters who<br />shared my room<br />whispered late into<br />the night with me<br />were the cause of my drowsy eyes<br />at the kitchen table<br />my sleepy smile<br /><br />My sisters who know my secrets<br />who keep me grounded and help me fly<br />who giggle better, hug better, bake better, tease better<br />than anyone I know<br />My sisters who gave me<br />the nieces and nephews<br />I long for all year<br />who keep me counting down to summers together<br />when we can laugh at the kitchen table<br />over breakfast, eyes half open<br />bleary but dragged to life by the kids<br />who slept at eight<br /><br />But<br />until the kitchen table<br />until the hugs in person<br />until the wiping off each others' tears<br />I see them through the screen<br />the kids running to and from the computer<br />voices ringing with excitement<br />saying hi to their cousins<br />cooing at babies<br />shouting to be heard over the din<br />of all the voices<br /><br />and the kitchen table spans three continents<br />an ocean<br />twelve hours worth of timezones<br />(some for breakfast, some for supper)<br />and we're still together<br />despite the world of bustle in between.nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-22138365015654570182011-03-06T16:41:00.000-05:002011-03-06T16:41:00.533-05:00Of Grocery Shopping and Cake BakingIt's really very hard to believe that I've already been off work for three months. I started Mat leave on December 3rd, and when I think about what I've been doing with my time "off", I have to remember to change my perspective significantly...<br />Left t0 my old ways of thinking, it's tempting to say 'I have nothing to show for the last three months', but, uh, HELLO, I have a two and a half month old baby to show for it! And that's what I mean by a shift in perspective. Because after you've spent your whole life in school, followed by 6 years at an office job, you measure productivity by deliverables. For as long as I can remember, I've had something to submit: homework assignments, first drafts, book reports, lab results, presentations, standard operating procedures, flow charts, meeting minutes, work tickets... The list goes on and on and on.<br />This project though, the one I'm working on write now, project Little Boy, is not "deliverable based". I don't get to submit Dude to anyone for evaluation every two weeks. I don't file a report nightly ('today Dude slept 10 hours and was awake 14 hours. He had 8 diaper changes, 10 feedings and a bath. He spent one hour being burped, one hour in his baby swing, and 15 minutes doing tummy time. He looked at me and laughed 7 separate times. He cried 12 separate times.')<br />No, Dude-raising is a long term project, a VERY, long term project, and while there are milestones by which I can assess how I'm doing, there are also a million little repetitive tasks that fill up the day before I add anything extra, like, say, cooking, or laundry.<br />Still, on the one hand, though my tasks now never end and my time isn't mine any longer, on the other hand, my schedule is as open-ended as it's ever been. At this age for Little Dude, so long as he's fed, burped, changed and warm, he really doesn't care about anything else. And so I can decide at 1:30 pm that I will do some grocery shopping at 2, or bake a cake on the fly, or try a new recipe I've never made and spend 40 minutes going through the store aisles painstakingly searching for ingredients. I can spend all day reading a book while I feed, burp, wrap, and rock the Little Dude. And that is what I have to show for the last three months, because soon this stage will be over: he'll be crawling or teething or talking or going to playgroups and my schedule will be tied down again, and 2 a.m. will no longer be the same as 2 pm., so I'm enjoying it while it lasts...nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-14046569078586923002011-03-04T16:37:00.001-05:002011-03-04T16:41:27.626-05:00An interesting video....I really quite enjoyed this little <a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/yblog_thelookout/20110303/us_yblog_thelookout/the-most-typical-face-on-the-planet">video</a> by the folks at National Geographic. Take a look...nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-71992972938220730092011-03-04T16:36:00.001-05:002011-03-04T16:37:24.770-05:00Abu Dhabi Baby Angel UpdateStop the presses! Start the baby-proofing! Baby-boy is crawling!!nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-43649150415610155532011-02-28T15:15:00.000-05:002011-02-28T15:15:00.387-05:00From the Mouths of Babes (or actually second graders: part 3)When my mom was still here in January, Cali Angela, who's now 7 years old, would call often to chat with her Grandma, and check up on Little Dude. Cali Angela's pretty used to having her grandparents <a href="http://meetmyshadow.blogspot.com/2011/01/from-mouths-of-babes-or-should-i-say.html">around</a> for a couple of months every winter, and the fact that she was Grandma-less meant that she spent a great deal of her phone calls to us devising ways in which we could all go down to Sacramento and visit her and her family, instead of the current arrangement wherein we were all in Montreal, so far, which made no sense at all.<br />During one of these phone calls, M had just come home, and she was explaining to the rest of us that we should come with the phone on speaker when she heard him enter. After saying "salaam" to him and filling him in on her brilliant travel plans, he broke it to her gently.<br />"The problem is that I have work, so I wouldn't be able to come to California".<br />"That's not a problem," Cali Angela replied, un-phased. "My dad goes to work every day. You could just go with him."<br /><br />Oh Angela, if only it were that simple...nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-65060241227483712722011-02-26T15:09:00.002-05:002011-02-26T15:15:07.329-05:00From the Mouths of Babes (part 2)This little gem comes to you courtesy of Dubai Angel, whose name is now Abu Dhabi Angel, thanks to their move to the UAE Capital this year. Abu Dhabi Angel is now 3 (like his little <a href="http://meetmyshadow.blogspot.com/2011/01/from-mouths-of-babes-or-should-i-say.html">cousin</a>, Cali Angel), and an avid cook who follows his mother into the kitchen every chance he gets, planning to help her in whatever meal she's about to make.<br />My sister tells me that the other day, they were all out shopping at a mall, and passed a store with a set of pots and pans in the window display:<br />Abu Dhabi Angel stopped dead in his tracks and called her back over, his voice extra excited:<br />"Mama!" he said, "when I grow up and get married, I want you to bring me right back to <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> store, so I can buy <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> set of pots and pans, so I can cook for my wife!"<br /><br />Ha! Here's hoping he remembers this when he does get married, because if he does, right now there's a little girl out there who's going to be VERY happy some time in the future.nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-58246827284520242392011-01-19T19:19:00.002-05:002011-01-21T20:32:03.511-05:00From The Mouths of Babes (or should I say preschoolers)The latest and greatest tidbit from the youngest Cali-Angel...<br />Grandpa is currently there visiting, and he and our youngest Cali-Angel have many opportunities for bonding (Grandpa drives him to preschool everyday, so that car time is just for them). The kids are used to seeing both my mom and dad together when they go to visit, but right now of course, my mom is preoccupied with the newest grandchild here in Montreal, aka, my son "Little Dude".<br />So what does Cali-Angel, now a glorious 3 and a half years old, say upon seeing his grandfather at the beginning of this latest visit?<br />"Hi Geddo (Grandpa). Where's your friend Teta (Grandma)"?<br /><br />Ha!nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-8093952182031212442011-01-15T14:28:00.003-05:002011-01-15T14:32:54.118-05:00A Great (and Scary) ArticleMy friend posted a link to this on Facebook and I had to share. So worth your while to read. Great, great piece of investigative journalism, and something to consider before you take your next prescription pill:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >"</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" ><span>Prescription drugs kill some 200,000 Americans every year. Will that number go up, now that most clinical trials are conducted overseas—on sick Russians, homeless Poles, and slum-dwelling Chinese—in places where regulation is virtually nonexistent, the F.D.A. doesn’t reach, and “mistakes” can end up in pauper’s graves? The authors investigate the globalization of the pharmaceutical industry, and the U.S. Government’s failure to rein in a lethal profit machine."</span></span><br /></div><br />Read it all <a href="http://www.vanityfair.com/politics/features/2011/01/deadly-medicine-201101?currentPage=1">here</a>.nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-65805393267587838792011-01-01T12:46:00.002-05:002011-01-01T13:24:48.752-05:00The Case of the Magical MommyThis is a belated Thanksgiving post, not because it was supposed to be written at Thanksgiving, but because there is just so much to be thankful for. M and I were blessed with a little boy a little over two weeks ago... The Little Dude (henceforth to be referred to as LD) is an absolute joy - it's amazing how much fun can be had looking at an infant make silly faces, open and close his eyes, turn his head... It's also amazing how someone so tiny can completely shift your entire schedule: eating habits (what to eat, when to eat, <span style="font-style: italic;">how</span> to eat), sleeping habits, noise around the house - everything changes... Through out my pregnancy, I was rather lax with my food sensitivities... I felt sick whether I had wheat or not, so why not enjoy that croissant... Now, if I feel sick, so does Little Dude, and if Little Dude feels sick, he doesn't sleep, and if he doesn't sleep... well, you see where this is going. I haven't been this good about avoiding my food intolerances in over a year. He's re-introducing discipline to my life.<br />Of course, just because I eat right, doesn't mean he <span style="font-style: italic;">will</span> sleep either. In fact, so far LD has a habit of sleeping during the day and waking up at night ready to par-tay! Most days from 1-6 a.m., he's like "Mama, this is where it's at!" and nothing, not eating, changing, swaddling, being rocked, being burped, or playing will change his mind. And this is where part two of the Thanksgiving comes in... My mother has been hear with us since before LD arrived, waiting for his arrival, coaching us through the arrival, and coaching us <span style="font-style: italic;">since</span> his arrival.<br />Sore and in need of a back-rub? Have no fear, super-mommy is here to indulge you, even if it's past midnight... Baby won't settle down at 2 a.m.? Super-mommy to the rescue - hand the baby over once he's fed, and she'll take care of the burping, swaddling, rocking and changing. Don't want to eat take out, but have no energy to cook? Mommy's been keeping us going with amazing, healthful, home-cooked food that tastes great on top of it... and it's not like she has all the energy in the world. She does this on the little sleep she gets between each Little Dude hand-off...<br />I wake up at 5 a.m. for a feeding and she's got a little breakfast in bed tray set up on the night table: Kamut bread with sheep's milk cheese and tomatoes, or salmon salad, clementines, prunes, water or herbal tea. I can't imagine what I would do without her here.<br />I'll be home with LD this year on Mat Leave, and bit by bit I plan to get the hang of this whole 'sleeping enough with a baby' thing. But for now, having super-mom around is just a God-send. She's always been super mom, but there's nothing like becoming a mother yourself to really show you how amazing yours is.nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-7469752667502475452010-09-03T16:42:00.000-04:002010-09-03T16:42:00.671-04:00She's dead of courseYou know that song about the old lady who <a href="http://www.rhymes.org.uk/there_was_an_old_lady.htm">swallowed</a> a fly? It starts with the fly, and then she progressively swallows bigger and bigger animals to catch the fly, or the next animal she's swallowed, until she works her way up to a horse, at which point the song ends with "She's dead of course!"<br />Well, this song was one of my stand bys for entertaining the little angels this summer at various points. We must have sung it a hundred times and the kids absolutely loved it... The real fun, would begin when the kids made up their own versions, deciding what else the old lady swallowed.<br />Some highlights:<br /><ul><li>There was an old lady who swallowed a mouse</li><li>There was an old lady who swallowed a car</li><li>There was an old lady who swallowed a shirt</li><li>The was an old lady who swallowed a house</li><li>There was an old lady who swallowed a frog</li></ul><p>Of course, when kids make something up to an existing pattern, that's when you realize how much of the pattern they truly understood. Dubai Angela seemed to get that the object had to be big to result in the final "she's dead of course"... What she <em>didn't</em> understand, was the phrase "of course". Apparently, Dubai Angela had been mishearing me all this time and heard "she's dead of horse", in reference to the horse that the old lady swallowed. As in 'the old lady had died of horse-related causes'...</p><p>So, in her version the song often ended "there was an old lady who swallowed a car - she's dead of car!", or "she's dead of house!" spoken with a very serious, dramatic voice, to demonstrate the tragedy. Needless to say, I had a hard time keeping a straight face, but am now looking for excuses to incorporate this new phrasing into all my conversations.<br /><br /><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8a13-JbxC98?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8a13-JbxC98?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></p>nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-46344177887485997922010-09-02T17:26:00.000-04:002010-09-02T17:26:00.404-04:00About this summer...The post I'm writing right now was meant for July. That's the kind of summer it's been. My internationally-residing sisters and their munchkins were here for the summer, and by here I mean Ottawa, and my younger sister and I took every opportunity to get down there and see them. It was glorious - the joys of extended family - because, let's face it, our nuclear family, with all the kids and the husbands and the in-laws, really has become an extended family - were so so so apparent. I don't know how to describe how I felt, the complete and total enjoyment of being together, the first night my sisters and I were all in the same room again and within 5 minutes of all arriving were acting like teenage girls (but only in the "we're so inhibited and we have so much fun" way, NOT in the "we can be super annoying" way). It helped, of course, that the kids were sleeping that first night, that we were able to regress to our silliness unobserved by curious 5 year-old eyes and get it all out of our systems before they had a chance to see us in the morning.<br />Ah, the kids... they are growing: My Cali Angela is 7. 7! Her little brothers are 6 and 3. Dubai Angela (who will need to be renamed since her family is relocating to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Abu</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Dhabi</span>) will be 5 in a couple of months. Her little brother is 3 and then there's the Baby Angel, who's been on the seen for less than two months... Remember <a href="http://meetmyshadow.blogspot.com/2010/07/baby-angel-arrival-bulletin.html">him</a>? The quiet one? His voice is still very soft :)<br />And of course, there is Montreal Angela - she who will soon be 1... Montreal Angela is no longer the baby of the family. Of course, don't try to tell her that... And this summer, she was old enough to play and be played with. The other kids, particularly Dubai Angel, <em>adore</em> her. And she adores being adored...<br />Cali Angela and Dubai Angela do everything together. They even draw pictures for each other and send them in the mail. They remind me of my relationship growing up with my cousins in Egypt, how we missed each other all year but for a few weeks each summer, were bound together, given endless days to play and run and talk and get covered in dust and grime... how those precious weeks sustained our entire relationship, how our sense of family grew defined by that time... The kids are still little but they're growing. They ask new questions every day. Harder questions, ones I have to think about before answering.<br />And this summer is officially over now in our family... The last "crazy/busy" trip to Ottawa was last week... Now we start the countdown to next summer, sustain ourselves with the phone and the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">internet</span> for a year, and that's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">ok</span>, because we're good at it, because if you're close enough, distance is hard, but ultimately, irrelevant...nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-21949127467491916622010-07-30T20:47:00.000-04:002010-07-30T20:47:00.472-04:00Baby Angel Arrival BulletinExtra! Extra! Read all about it here!<br />Auntie Noha is now an Aunt times 7!<br />His Tiny-ness arrived last Sunday, 9 days overdue, in Ottawa, and will be continuing to grace us with his presence until his Mama and older siblings (Dubai Angel and Angela, respectively) head back to the UAE in early September...<br />He is the first baby in our family that I can remember who seems to have a fairly quiet cry - ha! I'm not sure it'll last, but right now, even at his most cranky, his "waaah, waaaah", isn't a "WAAAAAAAAH, WAAAAAAAAAAH!". I say enjoy it while you can, Mama Angel!<br />His older brother and sister are taking their new arrival very well, and are happy to help Mama and Baba hold baby, dress baby, feed baby (mind you, they don't really do these things, but they are extremely supportive, and they frequently get their parents whatever baby-item they need from across the room or downstairs :))<br />Dubai Angela also has plans to put on a puppet show for his Tiny-ness. I'm not sure how she'll manage that, as his eyes are frequently closed, but I wish her the best of luck!nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-40519794709129105652010-07-29T20:40:00.000-04:002010-07-29T20:40:01.017-04:00Harry Potter!I know I'm REAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLY late on the bandwagon, but I have to tell this story so that others don't make the mistake I did...<br /><br />I never got on the Harry Potter bandwagon; figured it was silly; figured I wouldn't really like it. And despite the fact that everyone who read it told me it was brilliant, way more than a kids' fantasy book, so so so amazing, I just thought "meh". So much so that no matter how many times M suggested I read it, I just told him I probably would - someday. As in, 10 years from now...<br />So when the sixth movie came out on DVD, and M was going to watch it, I said I'd watch with him. "Are you sure?" he asked. "It gives a lot of stuff away. What if you decide to read the books"... But I insisted. By the time I got to the books, I'd have forgotten anything important, surely. So I watched the movie a few months ago, and that was that. And I still had no plans to read the book...<br />And then this summer I had several book "misses" - picking books up that had received GLOWING reviews and finding them just not that good. Sometimes not even getting through the whole thing. Disappointed. Always looking for the next good one... and there was M, sitting on the couch, partway through the last book, seeming to really enjoy it and I finally decided "why not? I can't find anything good to read anyway"... And I picked up the first one, and basically didn't look up for 3 weeks, until I was done the last one. So good. So unbelievably amazing.<br />I want to be J K Rowling. Short of that, I want to be her best friend. I want some of her genius to rub off on me. Best sustained series of writing I've ever read. No character is a stock character; no back story is left unexamined. You care about EVERYONE. For 7 books, for thousands of pages of writing. And when it ends you want it to keep going but at the same time it ends so perfectly that you can't imagine what would come next. I cried.<br />Except.<br />Except I'd watched the sixth movie and something REALLY huge happens at the end of the sixth movie, and all through the series, I couldn't forget about this detail I knew that I shouldn't know, and I was so upset with myself that I already knew this, and that it coloured my whole perspective, and that I read certain things that should have been read one way except I knew, <em>I knew!</em> so it wasn't the same....<br />So, read Harry Potter if you haven't already for goodness sakes. The movies are NOTHING compared to the book. Not even close... and if you haven't already seen the movies, wait! and if you have, it's ok, read the books anyway. You'll still love them. You can't not love them. Trust me.<br />and then you'll want to be JK Rowling's best friend too...nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-24748939330772786832010-07-28T18:35:00.000-04:002010-07-28T18:35:00.724-04:00Remind me that I wrote this when I whine in the winterI don't like any temperature over 25 degrees <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Celsius</span>... I've started resenting and avoiding the sun. We've had a heat wave on and off since basically the beginning of July and it got me thinking "maybe I wouldn't be able to handle living in California after all".<br />You know how snowbirds go down to Florida in the winter to avoid the cold? Maybe I'd be the lone Canadian living in California who hiked it up on home to Canada in the summer to avoid the heat! Yes, I could do that...<br />But really, I'm also wondering how I would have survived had my parents never immigrated to Canada... Me. In Egypt. In the summer....<br />I have become completely useless. Beyond sitting on the couch, my activities range to shifting on the couch because the spot I'm on is too hot, slinking down to the floor, and sitting on the chair. Also, adjusting the AC or the fan... And dreaming about lemonade. Or ice cream...<br />Every night, I check the forecast for the next day and cry silently in my head if the high is over 27, or if there's humidity... I can't wait for fall. Yes, I am definitely abnormal.nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-40023616800046359132010-06-07T19:03:00.002-04:002010-06-07T19:07:42.051-04:00Pure Joy!If you know me, you know I'm someone who takes joy in the simple things in life, and that little makes me happier than a good joke or some wordplay... Well, today I was randomly reminded of that genius, Gary Larson, and his incomparable comic strip, The Far Side... I spent some time perusing google images, flipping through some old favourites, and I just had to share my joy with everyone else... (M can attest to the fact that I was really, insanely happy, gleeful even, as I made him look at one comic after another...)<br />Do yourself a favour and go buy the set (I know I will!) but in the meantime, enjoy this one, on me:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVD_hog90fZhALRyf10t6DBW65DcUst55rYQ8mjNED3YADWDUuLthK9-bQaSAblfUghB6pNOio2aeUVST1hywTKIDQvU7Shqill1JFCI2-ybnAIGoX1Csr4DOSxrjaRO-kD0rIlA/s1600/farside+potato+salad"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 314px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVD_hog90fZhALRyf10t6DBW65DcUst55rYQ8mjNED3YADWDUuLthK9-bQaSAblfUghB6pNOio2aeUVST1hywTKIDQvU7Shqill1JFCI2-ybnAIGoX1Csr4DOSxrjaRO-kD0rIlA/s400/farside+potato+salad" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480172209729210162" border="0" /></a>nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-28581209713346050692010-05-08T17:18:00.004-04:002010-05-08T20:04:25.021-04:00Generation AI'm reading this <a href="http://www.coupland.com/2009/03/30/book-generation-a-2/">book</a> by Douglas Coupland right now, and it's been a bit of a disappointed. Years ago, either at the end of high school or in early university, I read <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Microserfs">Microserfs</a> and really really enjoyed it. So I suppose I expected Generation A to live up to the same hype... And maybe it has, and maybe that's the problem.<br />The book title is a reference to Kurt Vonnegut's statement, made in a commencement address in 1994 to graduating students at Syracuse University:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">"Now you young twerps want a new name for your generation? Probably not, you just want jobs, right? Well, the media do us all such tremendous favors when they call you Generation X, right? Two clicks from the very end of the alphabet. I hereby declare you Generation A, as much at the beginning of a series of astonishing triumphs and failures as Adam and Eve were so long ago."</span><br /></div><br />But this book's actually about the generation after Generation X, my generation. We've been labeled everything under the sun - sometimes Generation Y, sometimes Generation D (for "Digital"). And we've been called a lot of things: lazy, self-centred, convinced that we're the smartest and best at everything, and that we deserve raises and promotions just for showing up to work.<br /><br />So why don't I like the book? Well, while there's a lot of cleverness and wit, and while the author manages, with some irreverence, to capture the ridiculous materialism and media obsession of modern-time, there's almost too much of it, and the characters are pretty vapid and superficial. I have a hard time caring about vapid characters, and I need to like characters to enjoy a book. But maybe the book gets it just right and this is the problem. Maybe by being such an accurate description of Generation A, by portraying my generation as the shallow, materialistic people we are, Coupland's lost my interest. Are we all actually like this? I don't think so, but I think there's an alarming number of us who are (as evidenced by the characters (who are unfortunately real people) on shows like Jersey Shore and The Hills) to scare me about our future... How many of us, relative to past generations, read books? How many of us follow politics, or business, or something other than movies and tv shows? How many of us know what happens in countries other than our own?<br />I'll finish the book, but only because I'm so close to the end. Maybe it's frustrating me because it shows such a bleak and meaningless future. That's not the future I want.nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33760957.post-59487702562275376912010-05-02T20:09:00.002-04:002010-05-02T20:41:18.808-04:00The Angels are Coming!Yes, it's true. A couple of weeks ago, I got the fantastic news. After several months of bracing myself that my various international little angels would not be visiting this summer, a twist of wind blew fate the other way and both (both!) of my out-of-country sisters will be coming to visit.<br />What does this mean? Well, first of all, it means that my Dubai Angela and Angel will soon be meeting Baby Angela (our beautiful <a href="http://meetmyshadow.blogspot.com/2009/09/newest-angel-on-block.html">latest</a> addition who arrived last September) for the first time, and I'm sure they'll be doing their best to "babysit" her from day 1. My younger sister tells me the story of speaking on the phone with Dubai Angela, who announced to her last fall, "Auntie, when we come in the summer, I'll be <span style="font-style: italic;">four and a half,</span> so you can leave baby with me and take a nap or go for a walk!" (oh, to be four and a half again and think that four and a half is old!).<br />The California Angels will arrive shortly after, in June, and then the party will truly begin. Luckily, they'd met Baby Angela this winter when she and her mommy took a little trip south, and they took turns "babysitting" too. Ah, the fun.<br />What else does it mean? It means that Ottawa will be <span style="font-style: italic;">loud</span>, filled with that gorgeous, ear-splitting decibel of children everywhere, in the back yard running through the sprinkler, in the kitchen asking for peanut butter and honey sandwiches, under your arm momentarily when you manage to scoop them up for kisses before they run past you to go fight over a toy or finish a game of tag or tea.<br />There is nothing I love more than watching my parents with their grandchildren, the conversations that take place between a child who still stares at the world with wonder and a parent whose wisdom and lifetime of experience has shown him its reality. Last summer, a couple of days before Dubai Angela went home, she and Grandma had the most beautiful conversation on the carpet in the living room after night prayer. The rest of us listened as Angela asked Grandma why she couldn't go back with them to Dubai, as she painstakingly explained where everyone would sleep, how there was enough room for everyone there around the supper table, convinced that if she solved this one little problem Grandma and Grandpa could get on the plane and come back with them... My mother evaded, pointing out that she hadn't bought a plane ticket, that maybe there would be none left, and finally saying to Little Angela, "but I can't live in Dubai - Ottawa's my home"... It was beautiful and sweet and funny and sad all at once, and you could see three and a half year old Angela growing up with the realization that sometimes you have to be apart from the people you love, sometimes it's not as simple as getting a plane ticket...<br />I don't think I'll ever forget that conversation. It reminded me of one I had with my Grandfather, long ago, on his veranda in Alexandria, the moment between my mother's father and I, his kind, knowing smile, my young mind struggling to understand. I used to cry each summer we would visit Egypt, when we'd get in the car to leave Alexandria for Cairo, and again, when we'd get in the car to drive through Cairo one last time for the airport. I'd look behind me at the waving hands and cry and cry, and ask why they couldn't all just live in Canada with me. I remember learning Little Angela's lesson and growing older with that knowledge. I remember, when I was little, it not being enough that I would see all those loved ones soon. And now it is enough. And now I'm grateful.nohahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02535486649565810071noreply@blogger.com2