Mother

In Islam, mothers have a super-special place… heaven lies at our feet!

You can clearly see in this lovely & eloquent rendition by Yusuf Islam, that the place of a mother in Islam is great… a position of honor, of respect, of importance. Our status as mothers is 3 times that of a father!

God, in all his wisdom certainly knows that we deserve such a high distinction, and if for no other reason, because our kids say “mommy” about 3 times more than they say “daddy”.

Love Thursday & the angst

You know, four year olds are interesting, really, I mean it… this is the age where they are not babies anymore, this is the “I am a big boy and I know what it means” age, this is ‘school age’... and with any good school age child, this is the start of their angst!

Me: Shusssh (to the 4 year old)
4 yr old: I am NOT shusshing, MOTHERRRR!

4 yr old: mommy, he is hitting me!
(expecting me to take action against his brother)
me: well, you probably did something to him first
4 yr old: you always do this!

And as he was stomping away in frustration, I called him back, and he says “I am not complaining!”

Me: Don’t dust it off, the powder will help stop the itching
4 yr old: Well, I just want to dust it off
Me: Then what is the point of putting it on?
4 yr old: What is the point of you???!!!

Love is all around

Scoobalicious

My food blog, where I cook something different everyday (except Friday, Saturday & Sunday) is now called Scoobalicious...

Because I used to call my first son this all the time, and although I cannot remember the exact reason, I think it had something to do with Scooby snacks and how much scooby-doo loved them! Yeah, I am weird like that!

I am not publishing it onto the homepage of adventures in motherhood anymore, they will still be syndicated on my main feed, but will only appear within the “yummy” section.

Irony

At the butt crack of dawn, all my 3 kids are already awake.

I try to look at the bright side… I can try to get some work done before breakfast time.

The office welcomes me with open arms… my laptop waiting with fresh blogs to awaken my senses, new emails to start my brain working, and the kids have their toys, although it is debatable whether they really need the extra stimulation!

My husband sleeps while I try to take care of all kids and simultaneously work on starting my web development business, responding to emails, doing some design work, but really, just trying to “keep it together”.

At breakfast time I leave my newly awake husband to work and take the kids down for their meals… I handle the diaper changes, the fights, the crying, the screaming, the running, their insatiable thirst for knowledge and their constant chatter. I sometimes mindlessly answer “yes, honey” to every “why, mommy”, and in my mind I second guess this decision to quit my job, and worry about our rapidly declining financial situation.

At least he takes 10 minutes to make eggs for the kids, and then goes back to work.

The kids finished breakfast and was ready for action… it was 9:30am!

And as I am sitting between the boys feeding them lunch (yes, I still feed them sometimes when I want them to eat good and fast!), and trying to entertain the baby sitting on my lap, knowing that my husband would never be in this position and rarely ever takes care of all 3 kids, I cannot help but ponder a question recently directed to him about his role as husband, “are you getting as much out of this relationship as you are putting in?”

Life as a sock

I think I could be a sock. You know, an old, nasty thing, full of holes, ready for the garbage… that kind of sock.

You know how you put the sock through so much, you walk on it, you put it through the laundry, you sometimes wipe up water from the floor with it, you sweat in it, you accidentally pick up little pieces of muck in it, and then, when it’s all off-white and has holes in it, you curse the sock! Yeah, that’s me… that kind of sock!

You know when you wash a pair of socks, and you mysteriously lose one side, and then you don’t even bother to look for it… you just decide to chuck the surviving sock… that’s me… that kind of sock.

You know how sometimes both socks in the pair are not equal… like one would be a little more worn, or one would have a hole, or one would be a bit more “off white”, and you would look at the partner and think “you remained so good… what happened to your partner?” And some people might even say that the sock was maybe “too good” for it’s partner… well, that partner is me, I am that kind of sock.