Ramadan Day 18

The time to break our fast come earlier each day. Today, we ate at 7 p.m. (unlike the first day of Ramadan which was about 7:29 p.m.). That is because the sunset is setting earlier due to fall and winter.

Today, DS and I attended Parent-Teacher Organization--the same time I am to eat. This is not unusual because our lifestyle sometimes demands us to break at certain times and certain places. It is bound to happen that we might eat alone or break our fast with a snack. That is what I did. I broke mine by drinking water.

Considering that attending PTO is voluntary, I could have ate with family members. I chose not to tonight because PTO is only once a month. I do believe parents should get involved in their child's school to their best availabilities.

DH beaks his fast at work by snacking. He likes to enjoy his meals at his pace, not when his breaks are timed. When he comes home after work, that is when he will eat a good meal.

I realize that in a couple of days, we will be entering the last 10 days of Ramadan which has great meaning and that I will explain in a later post.

Ramadan Day 7

Today two of my siblings, my son and myself went to an Islamic community center, so that DS starts Weekend School, where he learns Arabic, Quran, and Islamic studies. Since it is only one day a week, DS will defintely need re-enforcements at home so that his knowledge may be strengthened in those subjects.

I registered DS at the school and then walked him to his class. Many people greeted me as I walked down the hallways. These are people I haven't seen in a year or so, yet they always welcomed me with open arms and smiles. (Just in case you are wondering it has been a year or so since I showed up at an Islamic community center it is because "Life" gets in the way. No seriously, work and other obligations. It is also a 30 minute drive from my home). Now that DS is a student of the weekend school, I will definately make appearances, and perhaps get involved as well.

Normally, weekend school starts at 10 a.m., but because it is Ramadan, the board moved it to 4 p.m.- 7 p.m., so that when the students are done, everyone, including adults, could break their fast in the gym/cafeteria. Families had already signed up to cook that evening. I have been told that Community fasts are available Fridays, Saturdays and Sunday evenings. How awesome is that! Since my siblings came with me to the community center, we didn't stay to eat at the center because we had made plans to eat with my parents again. Hopefully, DH will be willing to go on the weekend with DS and I. See, if you are wondering what happened to DH, he has been out of town for the last few days visiting his sister and her family. He is to arrive tomorrow night. DS and I cannot wait to see him!

I Have Broken the Flux Capacitor

At this moment in my life I believe I am operating at full capacity. I don't think I have room for one more thing. Perhaps that's why Jordan Sadler's article, An Open Letter to My Son's PTA really struck a chord with me. Some of us need to work full time. Some of us even need to work more than full time.

For the past year and a bit I've been revelling in my abilities to work from home while raising my kids. You could say that I might even have been smug about it. I tried hard not to be. After all, I'd been a full time working single mother for a while so I knew that we all do the best we can at the time.

But even last year as I wrote my book and I juggled a full slate of columns and articles, I squeezed in a piddly four or five volunteer mornings in the Kindergarten classroom. The teachers were very accomodating and let me bring my daughter in while I volunteered. But it became apparent that we were more of a distraction than anything.

And I tried to get to the PTA meetings, I did. But, um, they coincided with my Thursday night off. And I love my Thursday night TV line up, it's my night to relax and veg and maybe even drink a beer glass of wine while hanging out with my husband.

And I admit, that activity had priority over listening to moms with pet projects complain about the lack of funding for security cameras/rubber bits for the playground/paint for walls... It seemed that there was already a clique of moms who had either raised their kids next door to each other, had their kids on the same team or volunteered at the same preschool. I did not fit in.

I tried. But I couldn't get revved up about their projects. I asked questions about why they were necessary or why we needed to paint the library wall two months before the end of school when a) the walls are covered in posters and b) the unionized maintenance staff will get around to it one of these years.

Anyways. I thought maybe I'd get involved this year. But now I have n+1 projects on my plate where n = the maximum amount I should have and remain sane.

I now work from 6 am to 2 pm and let me tell you... me going around and saying I had "better hours" is somewhat of a pipe dream. Sure it's nice to leave the office at 2pm... but it's not so nice to leave the house at 5:45 am. They say I'll adjust.

I have one proposal sitting at four publishers.

I have a query into my current publisher and I'm waiting to find out if they want a detailed proposal or an outline.

I have an article due on the 12th.

I also fly away for four days on the 12th.

I got sucked into going to a golf tournament for work on Monday. Forgetting that it's been four years since I've golfed...

I just begun my Pampered Chef training.

I am late in sending out my eNewsletter.

My juggling act is wobbly. My hold on sanity is tenuous. My veneer is cracking. I may be at maximum velocity, Captain.

(Cross posted at The Writing Mother)

Longed for Silence

For 11 years, 6 months and 13 days, I have waited. For the silence, for the endless days to myself...for the time to go off into my head without constant interruptions involving lost Barbie shoes and whose turn it was to swing first.

Living on some days and often for some day, those endless weeks where even a minute of silence was an impossible task.

Long days of sweaty, small faces, giggles, tears and homemade blue green pancake batter turning into what would make good playdoh in my best pan. Blue splattered pathways on the brand new kitchen floor, that would never come up.

"I gave the cat a bath," the little one says, holding out her scratch filled arms. The cat glares at us from under the sofa, still soap covered and smelling an awful lot like peaches. Meowing in her remember what I did to the bunny, squirrel and 50 birds you have found on your front porch, back of the throat don't even think about messing with me evil kitty voice.

The children conspire with the Universe, encouraging me...perhaps, into believing for a moment or two I might feel some sort of grateful relief that the summer days dwindle steadily past. Like the sleepless shifting nights... so pregnant...wishing for 10 minutes of rest, not knowing that rest..for the next 18 years at least... will be a vague and fondly remembered blip, back by the dusty things.

"Aren't you excited?" I ask them while out shopping for school supplies and school clothes and any other time it happens to cross my mind, which is often. They hem and haw at me and I wonder if they are as unexcited about the whole prospect as I am and briefly consider homeschooling. But soon enough the backpacks and lunch boxes, shimmering in their brand new plastic glory, covered with Hello Kitty and Spiderman, muster up their enthusiasm and we are counting down the days every half hour.

Not writing, not writing, not writing...not doing much of anything but taking in their frenzied last moments of unplanned lazy days.

Then, before it seems it should, the day comes. The almost as tall as me, now 6th grade boy, heading off first, on the bus with a casual "Bye Mom" over his shoulder as he goes. The girl child on her bus next, entirely too cool for me to drive to school. And then the babies, who really aren't, nudging me out of the car and into the building, tugging me eagerly forward by both arms. "Hurry Mama," a far cry from the tears I'd expected from my littlest, the wee princess.

I'm grateful for the hugs and kisses bestowed before they run off blending into the throngs of eager children, suddenly so apart from me... And then terribly alone.

Long hours to fill..of myself...for myself...by myself, a blank page to be scribbled on. I sit with it at first. I wallow in it. Rolling around in these moments I've longed for and now would willingly give back. A week or more of it, ignoring the phone ringing and notebooks and pencils in favor of random tears, until three o'clock when the house is loud and colorful with them.

Home with stories of friends and triumphs and life altering tragedies of the Elementary school sort until I feel sick of myself.

The next day I discover the stereo, a solid steady rhythm to break up the sound of my own breath, loud in my ear. And slowly awaken. Writing around it, through it and then finally beyond it. Vowing not to be scared...to see...to be...with me, here in this place I've longed for.