A charmed life

There are so many things I am grateful for. My family, my home, my friends, the food in my fridge, my health. So many things that so many people would love to have and don't. I've always felt over the last few years, that something beyond my control, lent itself towards helping me along, what it is, I dont know. Luck? A guardian angel? whatever it is, it has always had to come up against my worries and fears-and we're talking fear of gigantic proportions (even if I didn't have anything to fear, my internal bully would think up a reason for me to be scared witless anyway)

The voice of Mr Fear tends to be at its loudest in the following situations.

1. Painting. There are people way better than you at doing it
2. Blogging. Nobody wants to read what you have to say. Stop being so selfish.
3. Expressing an opinion. Stop thinking you know everything. Nobody wants to hear it.
4. Being a mother. You can't do it alone. You're weak. Quit complaining.
5. Dreaming of being an artist. Don't even get me started on this one.

There you have it. That is the voice of Mr Fear and I have had to listen to its vitriol for years. and I mean years. It reached its peak during my first year of motherhood. That was a really tough time for me, because it distorted my own strengths, my perception of the world around me. It covered my real needs and the ability to articulate those needs, with a thick layer of vile neediness. No amount of tea and heart to hearts could have got me out of that. I ran to others with the mess of my emotions, followed by the mess of trying to fix myself better again, fix relationships that I knew deep down could never be fixed again. All the while Mr Fear chuckles at my feeble attempts to rise above it all. For the 6809845th time. It did it's job of creating an almighty mess. It did it's job very well.
Hey, Fear, Are you done with me now???

Deep breath. That was not easy to write. But I wrote it.
Hey I actually wrote it.
Was that Miss Long-Haired Book Reading Goddess whispering to me just then??
I wish her voice could be louder, stronger. Kick Mr Fear in the balls!

I think she wants to tell me something. I can't hear her very well. What was that?


Paint.
Blog.
Express those opinions.
Be the best mother.
Dream.

Don't stop. Don't be afraid. Do it.

Mr fear has outstayed its welcome in this little charmed life of mine.

Is it really possible?

Could anything be more divine, more beautiful, more heavenly, than this baby of ours?

He is the reason why I do what I do, why I keep wanting my life to be better. Because he's in it. He came into my unprepared, naive, hesitant life, making the mess that was me suddenly feel beautiful and joyful and full of possibilities.

Homemade play dough

To make it you need

1 cup of water
1 cup of salt
2 tablespoons of vegetable oil
flour
cornstarch
food colouring or tempera paint

Mix the water, salt oil and paint together. Use as much paint or food colouring as you think you'll need in order to get the right vibrancy in colour. Then all you need to do is add flour and cornstarch to the paste until it gets nice and thick. Knead it like you would with dough until most of the moisture has been absorbed.

To store it, keep in any airtight container. If it gets a little sweaty, just add flour to it.

He loved it. Until he realised it didn't taste very good. Then he just poked at it with a crayon like it was some kind of hideous washed up jelly fish.

Another bowl

done very quickly. With happy colours to brighten up my day.
Abit like a certain someone.

A hard week

I have been in a whirlwind of constant nappy changing, feeding and rocking to sleep that I don't know what planet I'm on, let alone what day it is. I have never watched so much daytime tv in my life. What's even more disturbing is that I have been watching Eastenders (a British soap incase some of you don't know) everyday, not realising that the same episode is repeated throughout the week. Let me reiterate what I've just said to you here- the SAME programme over and over again and NOT even realise it. That's sleep deprivation for you, messing with my brain. Even today, whilst I partially snapping out of this postpartum vegetation, I'm still watching repeats, not just of Eastenders but other programmes too! And what's more, i don't even mind it. Oh dear,maybe I shouldn't have confessed to that. Oh well, too late.
I should be trying to sleep, but I find the idea of sleeping during the day abit icky. Especially because it is 90 degrees in our apartment right now. Hot October weather driving me cuckoo. I want to go out with Isaac, I really really do, but the heat is not the inviting kind of sunny happiness. It is truly out of sync, in the same way that my hormones are. All I want to do, is take showers, one after the other. Nursing and all that it entails, has left me with the rather attractive scent of eau de spit-up which no amount of showering can take out. I have also been chained to the washing machine. Milk stained clothes, onesies, bedsheets, baby, mummy, soul. I am currently residing in a milk stained universe. As happy as I am to be able to exclusively breastfeed the little guy and see him thriving, it is still very hard work and I am still trying to master the art of whipping out the boob with abit more class and sophistication. Now though, I'm just 'boob-butting' my poor baby's head all the time whilst making sure I've got burp cloth, mobile phone, remote and water within hands reach.
As you can probably guess,there have been alot more to this mummy stint than I have been blessed in knowing, despite all that I have read and have been told about from other mothers. None of it has prepared me for just how hard it all is. Amidst all the conversations about how much it will change my life, how important it will be for me to sleep when the baby sleeps and to say goodbye to lie ins, none of it prepared me, for the heaviness that I would feel in my heart, because of the loneliness of it all. It doesn't help that I miss my family back in London, in Abu Dhabi and in Florida. They are everywhere but here where I could really do with their company and guidance. Back in the days when I was very much enjoying the independence and exhileration of moving out, living abroad, following my dreams despite the air of cultural animosity,I had no qualms about being so far from family and friends. In fact it actually improved my relationship with them. But now, I am the total antithesis of this independant woman. Being an independant mother is a whole different ball game, and one that i dont feel ready to play. Not in a foreign country. Not when I don't have a driving licence. Not when I can't speak the language very well. Not when I don't have my family for support. It's all abit too much responsibility for somebody who really didn't have a clue what responsibility was.
Sometimes, when I listen to a song on my ipod, or read back to pre baby blog entries, I get a little jolt of the energy and spirit of how I defined myself. It brings tears to my eyes, because as fast as it comes, it disappears back into the computer screen, into the lyrics, into the mirror, in lightening speed. The baby, and the marks that this has left me with physically and emotionally, have as of now, taken over in defining my thoughts, actions and feelings.
So that's where I am right now. Today, I got a phonecall from a friend, inviting me out to the park, in an attempt to get me out of the apartment with the baby. I am very grateful for the support that I have had from the friends I have here. I know that things will get better. Everytime I look at Isaac, I can't believe just how precious and beautiful he is, and that i am actually his mother. The love that I feel for him leaves me totally speechless. I hope that I can live up to taking care of this gift that I have been blessed with.

Life these days

Lots of this.
Not enough of that

and its all because of this.


Everythings abit of a blur at the moment, the life that I have recognised as being uniquely mine has come to a very loud halt. What I believe in, what I feel, what I think has absolutely no relevance to the needs of our baby. I am at his beck and call when it comes to feeding him, rocking him to sleep, changing his diapers and simply staring at him. I feel I have been brought back down to the realities of life with every step he makes to survive. He depends on me and I have never known how huge a responsibility this would be until now. The knowledge that no matter how much I feel Im not mother material, Ive still got to step up and be his mother anyway.Because that is who I am. His mother. I cant wait to feel more comfortable in this new role. I see mothers carrying their babies with so much confidence and independance, and i hope I can start feeling like this soon.
One day at a time.

This took nine months to make

On the 24th of September, at 6.35pm I gave birth to a healthy baby boy after a not so easy delivery.I'll be taking a break from my blogging for obvious reasons. Bringing this little one into the world has been the most challenging experience I have ever had, yet I know theres so much to be thankful. Anyway, before I start bawling my eyes out thanks to the hormonal hurricane Im being subjected to, Im trying now, with each step, to make my way into the world not just as Khairun, but as Isaacs mama.