the days are . . . shiny

I’ve recently expanded my circle of friends. For the most part, the friends I make and see regularly are non-Muslim. There are two reasons for this. The first is that the Muslims in my community with children near Noah’s age have daughters. Not all, but most. The second is that the Muslims have their kids in school, and this leaves our schedules reversed. Bummer. I’m working on a way to reestablish my connections. I love all our friends, but it’s nice to be able to open the doors of your religious identity without running into dogmatic conflict. I really dislike dogmatic conflict.

That’s why I wait to introduce myself as Muslim until I’ve already established with a potential new friend that 1) I am not crazy and 2) they are someone I think I’ll actually want to be friends with. Some people don’t find out about my faith until we’ve known each other for months. Some don’t find out for days. Others, hours. If it’s only been hours, there’s a good chance I think you’re a person who will be frightened by my belief system and I want to take that step back before it gets to that awkward point where you feel compelled to keep talking to me in order to be polite. If it’s been months, I like you, but not enough to open my heart. Most likely, I don’t trust that you won’t try to convert me. Don’t be offended. I get that a lot.

Why come out, anyway? Well, it’s a Christian country. Religious “freedom” aside, many people don’t take kindly to other cultures and especially other religions. I know. I lived in a religious vacuum for six years. I was surrounded by people who tried to save me daily. I’m pretty sure there were community pow-wows regarding “what to do” about my family. Yarr.

As a general rule, I wait until the second meeting. I did that last week. I came out as Muslim toward the end of a playdate. The woman I told completely took me by surprise by exclaiming, “I love the call to prayer!” She then proceeded to tell me how beautiful she thinks it is and that she downloads it online just to listen to on her own. Dude. That’s awesome. I was able to let go of worry about my religious identity. In fact, I’m not even sure I made it clear that I’m Muslim. The context of the conversation was more about taking Noah to see my husband at the Friday prayer.

So, when do you come out? I’m really curious if others have a similar experience. You know, those of you who don’t wear hijab, or even if you do, how you approach your beliefs when they may well cut off that tenuous tie.

February 17th, 2010 | Category: Islam, fears | Comments (7)

Noah woke up and tore down the hall to our room shouting for Nathan because of a nightmare. About this nightmare, he said the following:

There was a skunk and it got into our house. It was out of stinky stuff. It had chocolate milk in it’s sprayer. It sprayed some chocolate milk into my mouth. It didn’t taste good. No, it didn’t. But it was a nice skunk. But then all of the other skunks came into our house. They were the skunk’s friends. They had stinky stuff.

Hmm.

In other news, yesterday was Noah’s fourth birthday! We had donuts, went to the library, and tried geocaching. Noah loves geocaching treasure hunting. On our way out in the morning, we drove past a dead skunk. I suspect that combined with the excitement of an amazing day led to the above.

February 3rd, 2010 | Tags: as told by noah, dreams | Category: as told by noah, fears | Leave a comment

Upstairs, G is screaming his heart out. It’s my first try putting him down for a nap without nursing him. I feel horrible. Guilty. I don’t necessarily want to stop him from breastfeeding, but I do need him to sleep through the night. He spends so much time in my arms as it is, and my interests require free hands.

I’m finding it increasingly difficult to balance my interests with child-rearing. I’ve always wanted to be a mother. I love mothering, and I find great satisfaction in housekeeping. But I also love writing, reading and photography. They stretch my mind and keep me fresh. I need them, and just as with my children, I cannot live without them. Throw in my love and need for my husband and, well, this apple cart’s full.

I’ve noticed a disheartening trend: the more time I spend pursuing my non-child-related interests, the grumpier this household becomes. G wants me to look at his face. N wants to be in my arms where G is. The dirt in the house piles up. The boys are extra-clingy and prone to tackling and screaming at Nathan when he comes home. And I’m frazzled because all I wanted was 30 minutes to myself. A break that didn’t involve the toilet (as if bathroom breaks count when there is a child either banging on the door or trying to climb into my lap!).

I had grown to depend on that time when Noah was in school and all was quiet. I could put G down for a nap and feel confident that at least 30 minutes would be mine for the taking. What I did with them varied. It was warmer and outdoor photography was more viable near the house. Indoor photography was more practical as the light was better. There was space for independent thought, freedom from the needs of other bodies. Often, I sat on the couch and stared at a blank TV screen, just letting the events of the day or week or month roll through my head until the clouds parted and I could stand up, the burden of parenting shaken off for a moment.

I love parenting, but it is hard. I have two little boys in my face all day every day. There is no such thing as my own, personal space anymore. I sacrificed a small portion when I married my spouse. I chucked it all out the window when I gave birth to my first son.

However, with every hardship there is ease. In my case, my desire to write has outgrown all other interests (although it is a desire mated with reading). I find myself to be singularly focused on stories and their development. I cannot break away from the need to write, or the happiness it brings me when I do. I’m sneaking two minutes at a time, my laptop on our movie cabinet. I find myself standing in awkward positions, hands at shoulder level, to type so curious little fingers can’t grab or delete. I sometimes type through tantrums or as a child screams at me to look and beats my legs.

I feel cruel doing this, but I have no regular help. The priority right now is starting out this year debt-free. You can’t bank on an unestablished writer making money off of writing. When you have children, you have to pay to write, particularly if you’re their primary caregiver. I need a child-swap or a parent’s write-in with provided childcare. Even more than that, I need to feel like that’s okay. Again, the guilt.

There’s no reason parents, even primary caregivers, can’t pursue their own interests. I don’t believe it should be done at the expense of the child, but I do think it’s important for parents like myself to find time for themselves. Each day I’m struggling with how best to do that. Therein lies the difficulty.

No one can tell me what will work best for my family. I wish it were so simple. I’m certainly open to suggestion, but what I find is this is a process that takes trial and error. Right now, what is working best for us is to leave Noah in front of the TV through G’s nap while I take care of phone calls and write, if I’m able. I’m not completely comfortable with this setup, but I have to remind myself that Noah is tired at this time of day, I get to choose the programs he’s watching, and TV is taking the place of a nap. It’s okay to sit still for awhile each day. And it’s okay for me to take advantage of Noah’s attention being engaged elsewhere. Since Noah no longer has difficulty after watching TV, it’s what we’re doing.

Still, I wish for a chance to leave the house or have the house as quiet as it used to be during Noah’s naps (pre G). Mostly, I wish for an extended stretch of time, guaranteed to be longer than 45 minutes, during which I can enter the world of my stories without guilt or interruption. In turn, I could focus just on my children when not writing without wondering if I’ll ever get to write again.

There’s a further reason that I feel compelled to steal every possible moment to write now. I’ll share it in my next post.

By the way, G went to sleep just fine.

January 19th, 2010 | Category: childrearing, fears, writing process | Comments (3)

We have decided to withdraw Noah from preschool. This decision has been and will continue to be difficult for all of us. It was not due to a failing of the school. In fact, the attention and time they’ve paid Noah and our family has made it possible for us to understand that Montessori is not for everyone. That, while Noah is learning and growing, he is not thriving in the Montessori classroom the way he should. It’s affecting him at home. It’s affecting us all. His needs at this time are different than what Montessori is designed to offer. As parents, Nathan and I must find a different way to meet those needs.

These last few months have provided us a window into Noah’s inner life. We’re able to get a much clearer picture of how he’s dealing with the traumatic treatment of his split head. Every day he acts out getting or giving staples. He lingers on the morbid. He needs to vocalize his fears and experiment with behavior that is normal for his age group, but unacceptable in the peaceful Montessori environment.

It’s all happening very quickly. Our family is faced with a number of choices right now regarding the best way to transition Noah out of the school. He doesn’t understand what it means to not be in school. He’s both excited and concerned. At school, he’s had more bad days than good. I don’t know that we’ll find a new school setting for him. We may get our home set up in a way that’s better for him, and my homeschooling friends have congratulated me on this decision and invited me to start a casual coop with them. I think Noah would love that.

But he does have ties to the school. He knows the students there. While he hasn’t made any true friends, he has bonded with his head teacher. Montessori does not approach students with a nurturing attitude. It is very stand-offish, encouraging children to do for themselves, but this teacher has been very dedicated to Noah. Without her, we wouldn’t have had the resources we do now. We wouldn’t have known what roads Noah needs to travel before he can be ready for something like Montessori.

Probably the hardest part of this for all of us is giving up the idea of Noah as a Montessori student. We’d hoped, even against the hope of homeschool, that he’d see this through sixth grade. We love the tools offered. We love that Noah loves Montessori. But we can’t watch him come home at least three days out of five sad because he’s had a bad day. Too often, he visits with the principal. That leaves him full of angst about returning.

I wonder how much angst he will have when he finally realizes Montessori won’t be his school anymore. Like the chair he once claimed at Panera, moved away from, then blew up over because it was claimed by someone else–the school will still be there; the students will still be there; Noah will not be there. How do you explain to your children when life moves on without them?

He is just a child. A resilient, curious, loving and engaging little boy who will find new interests even as he struggles with a new routine. Still, I approach this change with great trepidation. I’m feeling small and scared while I know, know, know this is the best thing we can do right now. There will be other schools or other lessons if and when we need them, God willing.

I’ll write more on the pros and cons (we made a list), how and why we’ve come to this decision, and the process as it unfolds. Now, I’m going to stay positive and eat soup. It’s a brisk Fall day, and we have a birthday party later. Happy thoughts, friends. Think them with me.

November 20th, 2009 | Category: education, fears, montessori | Comments (1)