- I know that i'm pretty good at organizing events.
- pretty good at marketing events/ideas/thoughts.
- like working with youth.
- ok/good at translating and have lots of experience with this.
- good at navigating internet and using it.
- good at playing competitive games with my kids (Spot It!)- this is important b/c i've been trying to find ways that i can do quality, fun time with the kids, and i feel bad that i'm not really into the craft scene.
- i can read Qur'an with tajweed well alhamdulillah.
- i'm not bad at reading and presenting on islamic topics, but i need a push. it's one of those things that i'd rather sit back and relax and not push myself to undergo the stress of it.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Discovering Myself?
I know, it sounds so tacky, but I need to write down things that I learn about myself so that I can help myself figure out what i like and what i want to do to develop myself inshaAllah.
Trying New Things
I can't say I'm on a roll yet, but for the last 4 mornings, I've woken up at 6/6:30 am, and stayed up for the rest of the day, and i LOVE my ME time. That's exactly what it is, I wake up, pray, and then sit and read a book in complete silence, without feeling like i'm ignoring a kid's needs. It's addictive and I can't get enough of it, and it ends too soon with (usually) Hasan waking up, or (today) Sumayya waking up with a loose tooth.
The only possible (downside) is that I can't stay awake past 9 pm, which i gotta work on. Esp when Saif stays up till 1, 2 and 3 am every night. But on an upside, I've actually made an effort to clean the kitchen up before I go to sleep the last 2-3 nights, and again, it's really difficult when you can't stay up, but it feels SO good after the fact. Props for that goes to my sis in law, Maha, who we just came back from visiting in Michigan.
And props for me waking up early goes to two 'things'. 1. ZenHabits blog (www.zenhabits.net)- who encourages early waking up and tells you to do ANYTHING you like to help you do it (props to Maha again for directing me to this site) and 2. the anything i like that helped me get up the first day or two.....WWF!!! That's Words With Friends, a scrabble type game on my Android. Thanks to Afnan for getting me hooked! I don't do this first thing in the morning anymore, but it helped get me to do it the first couple of days when I seriously needed a push.
My whole (motherhood) life, I've FEARED the idea of waking up early b/c I didn't think I'd have the energy to continue with my kids during the long day, but alhamdulillah, i'm doing well!!!!
And back to the final inspiration to stay on this course of waking up early: my ISLAM! which has always taught us that there is complete baraka in those early hours. Ya rabb, please help me stay the course and benefit from my early morning hours, with your thikr, praises and husn ibadah.
The only possible (downside) is that I can't stay awake past 9 pm, which i gotta work on. Esp when Saif stays up till 1, 2 and 3 am every night. But on an upside, I've actually made an effort to clean the kitchen up before I go to sleep the last 2-3 nights, and again, it's really difficult when you can't stay up, but it feels SO good after the fact. Props for that goes to my sis in law, Maha, who we just came back from visiting in Michigan.
And props for me waking up early goes to two 'things'. 1. ZenHabits blog (www.zenhabits.net)- who encourages early waking up and tells you to do ANYTHING you like to help you do it (props to Maha again for directing me to this site) and 2. the anything i like that helped me get up the first day or two.....WWF!!! That's Words With Friends, a scrabble type game on my Android. Thanks to Afnan for getting me hooked! I don't do this first thing in the morning anymore, but it helped get me to do it the first couple of days when I seriously needed a push.
My whole (motherhood) life, I've FEARED the idea of waking up early b/c I didn't think I'd have the energy to continue with my kids during the long day, but alhamdulillah, i'm doing well!!!!
And back to the final inspiration to stay on this course of waking up early: my ISLAM! which has always taught us that there is complete baraka in those early hours. Ya rabb, please help me stay the course and benefit from my early morning hours, with your thikr, praises and husn ibadah.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Mama Hekmat
wish i could tell you baba that mama hekmat passed away, and console you and itrahham 3leeha together, but you and her are in it together now. I ask Allah SWT to bless her and gather her with all the good people, to accept her good deeds and mulitply them and to forgive her sins and overlook them. Ya Allah, ighfir laha warhamha wa anta khayrul rahimeen. Allahumma ameen.
Friday, July 22, 2011
July 22nd, 2011
first july 22nd without my baba. Allah yerhamak. thinkin of deeja on this day, must be lonely for her.
had a short qiyam at the mascc and saw baba during his last ramadan standing there giving one of his last khawatir.
lots on my mind this ramadan, as baba vividly was a part of my memory last ramadan. will write more inshaAllah.
had a short qiyam at the mascc and saw baba during his last ramadan standing there giving one of his last khawatir.
lots on my mind this ramadan, as baba vividly was a part of my memory last ramadan. will write more inshaAllah.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Where do Words Come From?
Sumayya wants to know who named the animals with their specific names? ....
Who invented language? Was it when Allah SWT taught Adam the names of all things? Was that the teaching of the concept of speech and language?
Who invented language? Was it when Allah SWT taught Adam the names of all things? Was that the teaching of the concept of speech and language?
Yellow Socks
Yesterday Shifaa was visiting mama in the hospital. "Giddu Esam Allah yerhamu kaan laabi shurab abyad," she said as she noted Teta's white hospital socks.
The nurse noted that yellow socks denote that the patient is a fall risk....
The nurse noted that yellow socks denote that the patient is a fall risk....
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Watermelon
I was eating a watermelon a few minutes ago, and a pain washed over me. I remembered Tariq Dahmas's passing, and remembered how baba's appetite was taken away by the cold, unfeeling hospital staff and doctors who starved him to death when he had an amazing appetite, made him reach the point of not wanting a taste of anything within 5 days. Allah yakhudhum. They starved my father.
I still see the image of him gulping down that small, 4 oz bottle of Danone yogurt drink like a starving man, with no reservations, not even caring that we were all looking at him with shy eyes. He gulped it down like a starving man and wished for more. May you be swimming in a Paradise of sweet tasting, cool water ya Abi. May Allah take them for treating my father that way. Coming in the middle of the day, at 2 pm, and telling him not to eat anything or drink anything till the next morning so they could run a ct scan on him. And him muttering, 'la hawla wa la quwatta illa billah.' Another day of starvation for a man who was already down to 115 pounds. Another day of starvation, when he didn't need to. He could've done that stupid CT scan and have only fasted 8 hours before it, not 18. I hate them and the system for its cold hearted unfeelingness. And then, just three days later, we were begging him to take a spoon of soup, a sip of a drink. But he didn't care for food anymore. All he wanted was water. Irhamnee ya rab.
I still see the image of him gulping down that small, 4 oz bottle of Danone yogurt drink like a starving man, with no reservations, not even caring that we were all looking at him with shy eyes. He gulped it down like a starving man and wished for more. May you be swimming in a Paradise of sweet tasting, cool water ya Abi. May Allah take them for treating my father that way. Coming in the middle of the day, at 2 pm, and telling him not to eat anything or drink anything till the next morning so they could run a ct scan on him. And him muttering, 'la hawla wa la quwatta illa billah.' Another day of starvation for a man who was already down to 115 pounds. Another day of starvation, when he didn't need to. He could've done that stupid CT scan and have only fasted 8 hours before it, not 18. I hate them and the system for its cold hearted unfeelingness. And then, just three days later, we were begging him to take a spoon of soup, a sip of a drink. But he didn't care for food anymore. All he wanted was water. Irhamnee ya rab.
Tariq Dahmas Passed Away
Allah yerhamuh. Saif and Muhammed's close childhood friend passed away yesterday at the age of 34 years from a brain tumor that took over his body. May Allah envelope him with his rahma ya rabb. My heart goes out to his family, his wife, his parents, his siblings, his best friends and everyone who was touched by him. I still hear his voice ringing in my ears from Saif's fone calls to him at random times, telling him of the latest prognosis. Allah yerhamu. He is now with his Creator.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Maryam is Engaged!
alhamdulillah. been looking fwd to this day, and happy it's here, but defn worried for my lil sis. hope Allah gives her sa3ada in this life and hereafter. be happy maryam!
why worried? just always wondering if this is the guy that will be right for her. fear she looks for too much excitement in life and is too anal about marriage. Allah Kareem.
why worried? just always wondering if this is the guy that will be right for her. fear she looks for too much excitement in life and is too anal about marriage. Allah Kareem.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Scraps of Paper
It's the little things that remind me of you; that i hold onto, in hopes of it triggering that memory, over and over and over again. I want to remember you; I want to remember every last moment of that week. I want to remember, and ponder, and tear up and hurt inside. I want my heart to feel; I want to remember you.
I want to remember you as i drive down the long empty highway. I want to think of you as i look into the horizon; the blue skies, the white clouds, the setting sun. I want to tear up and feel the ouch. I want to cry as i think of you, baba.
I dig into my pocket and pull out a piece of folded up paper, torn off of a master sheet. I'm taken aback; it's your insurance number, written in your handwriting. Or maybe it's mama's but you wrote it for me when i took her to an appointment, and i folded it up and put it in my pocket. Actually, it is your insurance number. That was the jilbab i wore on one of those short days i spent with you in the hospital. one of those last days. That note was written in your handwriting, your good, strong, solid penmanship. And I remember.
I remember the day before your passing, when you brought all your energy together, pulled together all your remaining wit, concentrated so so fully on signing your name, one. last. time. on that sheet of paper. that last will and testament that Muhammed and I just couldn't read out loud to you. Just couldn't. We tried. We passed it back and forth, each one of us thinking that he would be the one who could pull himself together. Reading two words and stopping as our voices shook and our eyes clouded over. The other one pulling the paper from the other, starting all over. And then you said, "Don't you know what it says? If it's good, then I'm find with it." And of course I cried more.
You summoned everything you still had to keep your thoughts straight, to stay awake, to think clearly in front of that notary public. You held your shaking hands steady, as steady as possible, and s l o w l y signed with that steady stroke- one. last. time. Esam. cursive, with the m stretc h i n g into a straight line that bent underneath into another line, a chair for the Abdallah. But that's where your energy dissipated and the Abdallah came out unsteady, almost gibberish, so unlike your beautiful handwriting. I cried. I still cry. thinking of how you signed every check of yours with such beauty. such itkan. perfection. pride. pride in your name, your father's name- your grandfather's name. beauty and pride.
and i hold on to that scrap of paper. it stays in my pocket for another day. another day when i will wear that jilbab once again, and absentmindedly stick my hand into that pocket, fingering a scrap of paper and wondering what it holds. Opening it up and bringing back a rush of memories. thinking, remembering, thanking God for that one more opportunity to remember, fingering it, and letting the mind roam.
fatima
I want to remember you as i drive down the long empty highway. I want to think of you as i look into the horizon; the blue skies, the white clouds, the setting sun. I want to tear up and feel the ouch. I want to cry as i think of you, baba.
I dig into my pocket and pull out a piece of folded up paper, torn off of a master sheet. I'm taken aback; it's your insurance number, written in your handwriting. Or maybe it's mama's but you wrote it for me when i took her to an appointment, and i folded it up and put it in my pocket. Actually, it is your insurance number. That was the jilbab i wore on one of those short days i spent with you in the hospital. one of those last days. That note was written in your handwriting, your good, strong, solid penmanship. And I remember.
I remember the day before your passing, when you brought all your energy together, pulled together all your remaining wit, concentrated so so fully on signing your name, one. last. time. on that sheet of paper. that last will and testament that Muhammed and I just couldn't read out loud to you. Just couldn't. We tried. We passed it back and forth, each one of us thinking that he would be the one who could pull himself together. Reading two words and stopping as our voices shook and our eyes clouded over. The other one pulling the paper from the other, starting all over. And then you said, "Don't you know what it says? If it's good, then I'm find with it." And of course I cried more.
You summoned everything you still had to keep your thoughts straight, to stay awake, to think clearly in front of that notary public. You held your shaking hands steady, as steady as possible, and s l o w l y signed with that steady stroke- one. last. time. Esam. cursive, with the m stretc h i n g into a straight line that bent underneath into another line, a chair for the Abdallah. But that's where your energy dissipated and the Abdallah came out unsteady, almost gibberish, so unlike your beautiful handwriting. I cried. I still cry. thinking of how you signed every check of yours with such beauty. such itkan. perfection. pride. pride in your name, your father's name- your grandfather's name. beauty and pride.
and i hold on to that scrap of paper. it stays in my pocket for another day. another day when i will wear that jilbab once again, and absentmindedly stick my hand into that pocket, fingering a scrap of paper and wondering what it holds. Opening it up and bringing back a rush of memories. thinking, remembering, thanking God for that one more opportunity to remember, fingering it, and letting the mind roam.
fatima
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