Water Fight!!

Every morning, I stand in my balcony (on the sixth floor) and watch as my two oldest get on the bus below. And it never fails: there is always some idiot in a rush behind the bus, honking to try to speed things up. That’s normal here…but it still annoys me to such an extent that I find myself imagining the following scenario:

I stand in the balcony as usual, but this time I’m armed: beside me is a basket full of water balloons. Out loud, I warn the drivers below not to be idiots and rush young kids boarding their school bus. I warn them not to rush the bus itself so that the bus driver doesn’t get anxious and pull away before the kids are seated. I warn them…But of course, they don’t listen. The but stops, my first son gets on, then just as my second son is about to lift himself in, you hear, “HONK!!” Less than a second later he’s startled by the loud “THUD” and doesn’t quite understand why there is  water all over his hood! He steps out of his car, looking around him in confusion. Was it just his car that got rained on? And why did his car shake a bit? Did anyone else feel that? He’ll end up seeing the pieces of balloon and figuring it out, so he’ll look up at the apartment building, searching for the culprit. When he finally spots me, I’ll simply say, “Next time, don’t be an idiot! And hurry up! You’re holding up traffic!”

I’m going to do it sometime. But the idea itself got me thinking about when I was younger, maybe middle school aged. My brothers and I would have water fights…inside!!! Both of my parents worked, so during the summer (or was it after school, just before the summer?) the three of us would be home alone. And OH! The havoc we would cause!! We didn’t necessarily have balloons on hand, so we just filled cups, and chased each other around the house. Just before 5, when my dad was due to be home, we would scramble trying to wipe things up and destroying any and all evidence. Someone would yell out: “Can you see his car, yet?” After a quick check out the window, you’d hear, “Not yet…but I know he’s almost here. Hurry! Hurry!”

And inevitably one of the those checks would be followed by: “OH CRAP!!! There’s his car! He’s driving down the street! We’re not gonna make it!!”

But just before his key turned in the door, we each jumped on a couch, and did a good job of pretending like we’d been just hanging out the whole time. And they never found out.

So don’t go telling them. Actually, forget that…don’t tell my kids!!!


True Strength

“The strong-man is not one who wrestles well but the strong man is one who controls himself when he is in a fit of rage.”

–Prophet Mohamed (Peace be upon him)

hadith no. 6313 in Sahih Muslim

Sir! Yes, sir!

The chemistry between my kids always cracks me up. When they get along, it’s like a carnival and everyone’s laughing. And when they fight, it’s chaos!! But the funniest thing about them, is the way the three younger ones look up to their older brother.

The other day he gets home from school. He says to his 5 year old brother, “Take my bag into my room.”

Now, in order for you to fully appreciate the situation, you have to know that my 5 year old is basically a matchstick child. You know…when you need to draw a person quickly, (or for those of us who can’t draw, whenever we draw a person) you make a circle for the head, a long line for the torso, and four other lines for the appendages. Well, that’s my five year old. And my oldest’s bag weighs probably 3 times as much as him.

But despite all of that, when my 11 year old gave out the order for his bag to be taken into his room, my 5 year old didn’t even hesitate for a second. He just grabbed the bag with two hands, and dragged it along.

“KID! Take your own bag into your room! Don’t order your siblings around like that!” That’s me…that’s what I said. But it was my 5 year who replied, “No…I got it mama.”

I look up at my 11 year old in disbelief. With a smirk on his face, this is what he says to me, ” Wouldn’t you like it if they obeyed you like they obey me!”


Motherhood Amnesia

We’ve all experienced it; something happens to our brains as we enter motherhood. We become more forgetful, our cognitive skills diminish, and basically…we just become less intelligent. I don’t know why or how this happens, but it is a commonly recognized phenomenon, and many of us can relate to it. 

My cousin, who is a relatively new mom, often asks me child related questions. Given that I’ve been a mom for 11 years, and four times over, she figures I should have at least some answers.  And while I help her out sometimes, more often than not my answer is, “Ummm…I don’t remember exactly.”  Of course, she looks at me like I have five heads and says, “You’ve done this four times, and you can’t remember??” So I try to save the few shreds of dignity that motherhood has graciously allowed me to keep, and come up with a semi-intelligent answer.

But although most of the time I hate the extent of deterioration of my mental state, I have recently found that there is a positive….

My three year old asked me today, “Mom, do you remember when I threw up all over the couch?”

I thought for a minute…..


My five year old was standing beside her, so he chimed in: “Do you remember when I peed all over the bed?”

Again…I thought for a minute…..

And again, a very happy NOPE.

Ahhhh…This is what they mean when they say ‘ignorance is bliss.’

No More Money For You!

A couple of times a week, usually when we run out of milk and eggs, I send my oldest to buy some things from the market nearby. He’s happy to do it; it gets him out of the house for a few extra minutes, and it lets him feel like a grown up, like I can depend on him.

Last week, we needed bread, but I didn’t have any small bills and I knew the bakery wouldn’t have change. “I have money. You can pay me back when you get change,” my responsible son says to me. What a good little boy!

He ended up buying the bread and some other items, so I owed him 15 pounds.

When I finally got change, I handed him the 15 pounds. As he takes it he says, “But you owe me 20…not 15, mom.”

I could tell that he was serious and not just trying to squeeze more money from me, so I asked him what the extra 5 pounds were for. “I don’t remember…but I’m SURE it was 20.”

We thought together for a while, but we couldn’t come up with it, so I reassured him it was only 15.

He turns his head away and in all seriousness says to me, “I’m not lending you money ever again.”

Can you believe that clown!

(For the record, he remembered what the 5 pounds were for and I did pay him back. But  still…what a punk!)