Pita!

Asalaamu alaykum, friends.

I've been MIA for a minute, but it's got nothing to do with babies being born. Alhamdulillah, I am "due" tomorrow, but Allah only knows when she'll decide to come on out.

 I walk every evening, almost, in the park across the way from me. It's really very nice and relaxing to walk in, as it was built by the mayor for the sole purpose of walking, basically. There are a few beautiful gazebos just COVERED in flowers, mashallah, and lots of beautiful trees everywhere surrounding the winding, raised walking path. The grass is not very nice because the bedouins come into the city every day to graze their herds of sheep/goats/donkeys on it (which royally pisses off the locals but they don't mess with the bedouin ladies!). Anyway, it's too hot to go anywhere before around 5:30, so I wait until 6ish and then drop the kids at the co-wife's house and go for my walk. It's so refreshing to be out in the fresh air, really using one's lungs and muscles and such, coaxing baby to just. get. out. ha ha ha. It's really nice as well because the sun sets as I am walking right before maghrib prayer time (sunset prayer) and it's just breath-taking sometimes. I know you expats out there know what I mean when I say sometimes we can forget this is not really our world, that we are not really in our element. There are days I am shocked back into reality that I LIVE in Egypt. I am not visiting, I am not a tourist. I live here, in this little town and it's unlikely I'll live anywhere else for awhile, even. And that's ok...for today. ha ha.

I am also cleaning like a maniac, partly to spend the time, partly because I am planning a home-birth and want things as clean as possible and don't want to look around on the day I am in labor and think "DAMMNNIITTT! Why oh why didn't I clean that?!". I broke my mop and my kitchen needed mopping badly, and since I read on Spinning Babies.com that getting on one's hand and knees is good for keeping baby in the anterior (baby's back to your belly) position, I decided to do it myself with a bucket and rag. It was great! I got an excellent work-out and the floor looked much better. (and I am getting a new mop today, inshallah. ha ha). The only problem with all this walking and cleaning and such is that rather than put me in labor, it is KILLING my muscles and bones, for real. I was nearly in tears all night because just turning my huge body is very, very painful at this point. Then I bucked up and reminded myself I am opting for a drug-free, all-natural home-birth, so I had better get used to it!

I have been continuing in my streak of baking adventures, perhaps in an effort to productively spend the time until the baby comes.

We actually get free bread from the government and it's whole wheat but usually not very tasty. As well, our landlord is taking his sweet time to get us the form we need to get the bread for our apartment, so we usually have to wait until one of the kids at the other house can bring some over. Since they get like 15 pieces or something for a family of 9, and since we only eat around 3 pieces if it's just me and the kids, it's no problem. But, there are days I want to eat NOW and the bread is still not here, so I decided enough! I can make it, right?

RIGHT!

I searched online for some good pita bread recipes, worried there was some special equipment needed and was very pleased to learn that what one needs to make pizza dough or regular white bread are the same things one needs to make pita. After scouring around and finding they were all pretty much the same recipe of yeast, little sugar, some olive oil, salt, water and, of course, flour, I decided to follow this recipe on Smitten Kitchen.
I like the recipe because she gives detailed directions on baking the bread in the oven or even on the stove-top, as well as whole-wheat flour directions (since whole wheat usually requires a higher water-to-flour ratio). Also, I wanted to be able to make the dough before bed and let it rise in the fridge overnight so that in the morning, all I had to do was toss it in the oven. She gives detailed instructions on that method, as well as others. Check it out!

So, last night before bed, I made my dough, kneaded it really well and put it in the bowl, wrapped it in plastic wrap and popped it in the fridge at 10:45. Here is what it looked like when I took it out at around 9:15 this morning:

Here is a pic without the wrap:

The most important thing for pita bread is making sure the oven is HOT. I mean HOT. Like big flame hot!

See? Two choices for heat in my propane oven: hot (indicated by a small flame) or much, much hotter (indicated by a big flame!) ha ha ha!

 I broke up the dough into 6 pieces and let it rest on the counter under the bowl for around 10 minutes while I finished the breakfast. Here are some of the dough rolls after letting them rest:

I then rolled out the dough into thin pancakes, basically, let it sit a while longer to rest some more, opened the oven (which nearly scalded off my eyebrows with its heat!), and tossed them on the searing hot cookie sheet. Then, just as the blogger advises if they don't puff immediately from the heat, I "spritzed" them with water. (I say that in quotes because I have not found a spray bottle in my small town, so I have to just fling some with the tips of my fingers. ha ha). They began to bubble up a bit, but didn't poof. I think it's because they were not thin enough when I rolled them out. Either way, exactly like she said, they were not necessarily "pita" but they were some seriously good flat bread! I mean, they were really really delicious!

That one that is darker than the others is the underside, i.e. the first side I placed on the cookie sheet. 

And for your viewing, drooling pleasure, here is a pic of our typical breakfast, chalk full of protein! Missing is a bowl of yogurt with honey, a bowl of fruit and a salad, along with our morning tea/coffee.

Clockwise from the upper left: Fool, my delicious pita bread, hummus, eggs with basterma (a mildly sweet, marinated, dried beef, akin to bacon. yumm!)

So get to it! Bake something! Surprise yourself with what you can do!

I am off to get moving and try and coerce this baby to get movin' OUT because I do not want to be in the situation I was in when I was last pregnant, where I am 10 days overdue and the doctor is using words like "stillborn" and "shoulder dystocia" and the like to convince me to induce. Please, please pray she comes on her own and in a reasonable time because I am nervous as heck!

Time to Make Some Changes

I feel like I am always, always changing. Like I never just get a moment of fresh air to really relax because as soon as I feel I have adjusted to a change, a new one comes along. But, as is life, right?

Lately, God has been really throwing me some hints that I can't ignore any longer. There are some areas of my life that need to change NOW. Not tomorrow. Not Tuesday (because to my son, "later" is always too late but Tuesday is just the right time...). Not when the baby comes. NOW.

My first reaction when I realized God was dropping some serious hintage that I needed to really ponder was to feel overwhelmed, helpless and hopeless. I cried a lot. I was embarrassed to admit there was even a problem (classic first step) and scared of the future and unsure if I even have it in me to change.

So today has been a horrible day. Not like traumatic or something, just downright bad, at least compared to how I have been feeling up to now. I feel completely exhausted. I feel drained emotionally and physically. At 37.5 weeks pregnant AND chasing after and corralling my 17 month old and my 3.75 year old (ha ha ha. like that?), the physical exhaustion is sort of expected. As well, the end of pregnancy brings lots of hormonal changes that bring on both exhaustion, sleepless nights and the overwhelming urge to eat only chocolate and watch Grey's Anatomy into the wee hours. Butt...moving on!

So there I was, praying my Dhuhr and late Fajr prayers, feeling overwhelmed, exhausted and just completely hopeless when this picture popped into my head:

And suddenly, like the sun coming through the clouds after weeks of rainstorms, I felt better. I felt that perhaps I had at least some control over how I felt. No, I can't control what other people do to me or my outward circumstances, but I can change how I react to them. I have been accused of living too reactionary a life by several counselors and friends and I think they are right; rather than stand up and say "No! No more of this! I wont allow you to steal my joy!" I have huddled in the corner begging the bullies in my life (mind, heart) to stop pummeling me.

So, what needs to change? I'm so glad you asked, otherwise this entire post is really a waste of time. (Or...no it isn't. It isn't really for you anyway, unless you are inspired to also change your life, in which case congratulations!) All the things I am realizing are too long to be summed up in one measly post, so I'll break it up, inshallah. First things first:

Cut the Crap! This was my mom's second favorite phrase when I was a jerk adolescent. (I wont mention the first...). But, here, I am referring to cutting people out of your life who don't deserve to be there. 


Now, I'm a Muslim and for that reason, I don't ever support completely cutting the ties of kinship with your blood relatives, no matter how ridiculous they are (or non-Muslim). As well, there are numerous ahadith (reliably related sayings of the Prophet Muhammad (saws)) that say we are not permitted to cut ties with a fellow Muslim for longer than 3 days. But you know what? No where in Qur'an or hadith does it say we should allow ourselves to be abused; One could even argue many places say otherwise. Keeping the ties of kinship/Islam does not mean letting crappy people treat you how they will. It means praying for them no matter how they treat you, respecting them, even if that means leaving the room they are in to avoid making more sin with your own mouth or cutting down interaction to a bare minimum. 


James Altucher, one of my favorite bloggers, has a blog about this:  http://www.jamesaltucher.com/2011/06/how-to-deal-with-crappy-people/




I decided that's it, khalas. There are a few people who have been absolute drains in my life, bringing nothing valuable and leaving behind heartache and frustration at every turn. So, I cut them from my life. Some of them hurt other people I love, and this I wont tolerate, either. It was easy enough to do this when said people were only a click away on Facebook or some other such site, but what about people actually living in my life? Like, oh....my mother-in-law? 


Yeah...


I can safely say that one of the least enjoyable people to have in my life is my mother-in-law. She is sweet and kind and beautiful and works hard for her kids and grandkids. And she is old (not actually...just in her head) and set in her ways and she is Arab. (Read: She badgers people to show how much she loves them, and she loves me the MOST, I guess...). 


I related in my previous post how she harassed me for not dropping my whole life and walking over to her house to watch my co-wive's kids while she and my co-wife went with my husband for his surgery (even though I kept them at my house all day, that was not a sufficient solution for her...). Well, last night was the last straw.

My husband has been trying to recover from his surgery and is in a LOT of pain. Like, excruciating. He should be in bed all day everyday. But no, he isn't. Why? Because of them. Because they just have to have the metal gate re-modeled on the front of the house. Because although they found a ride to a nearby city, they just can't find a ride home. Because his sister came into town and just had to go to the village to see their other sisters. I have not been the reason my husband has gone anywhere. I have come along after begging him to just stay home. Last night was such a case. His wife and his sister decided to go shopping in a nearby city because she is going back to her home today, some 8 hours drive from here. Ok, no problem. They asked him to take them, he said no way, I'm in too much pain, and they took a public car. But when it was time to come home, they begged for a ride. So, he calls me and says he is going to get them, do I want to come with? I tell him he really shouldn't go if he is in so much pain. He says no, he has to get them, etc.

First I declined to go with him (and in hindsight, I see that I should have stayed home. damned hindsight...) but then thought better of it because I hate missing out on any time I can get with him. He decided to take all the kids, save my daughter, whom we left with my MIL. I need some curtains since we still don't have any up in our house after 5 months living here, and as I was trying to avoid the hour long trek to the largest city near us, thought this little excursion he was already planning would be a good chance to look around for some curtains while he helped them get stuff into the car. Well, he forgot to bring money...ok. No curtains. So he calls them. And calls them. And calls them again. They finally answer and say yeah, yeah, we're coming.  30 minutes later and the youngest kids (2.5ish each) are crying for their mamas and saying they need to use the bathroom. He is in agonizing pain, crying out to God. He finds a masjid, takes all the kids while I stay with the older girl in the car, prays and returns to the car nearly in tears. He calls his wife and sister again and again and by this time he is screaming at them, calling them every name under the sun for having him come there and not even having the courtesy to finish shopping in a reasonable time period. They say no, sorry, we aren't finished, hang up on him and we drive back home. We get in the door and everyone asks me where are the women. I explain they did not come with us. How is my husband? Sick, very sick. He comes in the door, moaning in pain and falls into the bed. I am left alone in the room with my MIL for, I swear, 3 minutes MAX.

She launches into a tirade, saying how my daughter was a living hell, running here and there, trying to break things, etc. (umm...hello! she is 17 months old!) and then, harassing me for letting my husband go to the other city. WTH, WOMAN?! I am the one who tried to convince him not to go! Your daughter and other DIL convinced him to drive there, then forced him to wait nearly an hour, and then didn't even come! But I am the one who should be blamed for letting my grown husband go somewhere when he just had surgery?! What is wrong with these people?!?!

I try to make my husband comfortable, while all the while he is screaming in agony. Not too long afterward, my co-wife and SIL show up. I am expecting a reaming. I am expecting they will get beat with a cane or something. No. Nothing. Not a raised voice. Not a lecture. NOTHING HAPPENED. They walk into the room casually. My husband asks my co-wife where she has been in a pointed fashion and she MOCKS HIM. And he allowed it. No one intervened. No one said ANYTHING.

He says hurry, I need a shot. (yeah...people here just buy shots from the pharmacy, no prescription needed and it is expected every adult woman knows how to administer one..). I recall him taking a pain pill just moments before this and caution him not to take a powerful pain-killing shot at the same time as a powerful pain-killing pill. She is standing there, needle-in-hand, and he says no, wait, let me call my doctor friend. It takes a while and in the meantime, everyone is harassing him "Just take it! You'll be fine!". Finally, he reaches the doctor and somehow, the doctor agrees it's fine. (Really?! Paracetamol and Adelor together?!)  So, she gives him the shot and he says, before essentially passing out "I love you honey. I want to sleep now. Please go home. Goodnight". And that's it.


Whew! Do you feel exhausted reading that?! Cuz it was exhausting living it, for the love of God! Would you want to be around these people? Would you want to leave the comfort of your home to deal with their unending, unnecessary drama?! Me either!

So, I wont.

Yep, that's it. I've decided I'm done. What has kept me from staying away from them this long has been my fear of offending my MIL, but not anymore. She offends me nearly every time I see her and there are no repercussions. Even my co-wife has begun treating me in a less-than-adult fashion. So, that's it. If my choosing to distance myself from them offends them, they deserve it.

I am 9 months pregnant and exhausted. I don't have the time or energy to allow crappy people to dominate my emotions, ruin my days, and keep me awake at night (because really, I dream often of them and their drama at their house). I am in charge of who I allow in my life. I am in charge of how I allow them to treat me. If they cannot behave like civilized, respectful adults, I cannot be pressed to endure their presence. End of story.

Almost...

There is that small, tiny fact that I am going to give birth like any day now and will therefore require help, particularly childcare. And there's the fact I have no one else here. And if my baby decides to come in the next week, my husband will still likely be in too much pain to be much help. And what really sucks? I can't even trust them. My MIL complains every time she is forced to watch my daughter. The second oldest of the girls has let her walk around in dirty diapers for hours before because she just hates cleaning babies. Many times I have been there helping in the kitchen and walked into an full room of people, asked where my daughter was, and was met with blank stares and "I don't know"'s REALLY?! I am supposed to recover from birth at home with my newborn and trust you people with my daughter?! And then there's my son...he is there often, for hours on end, so no problem there. He is essentially self-sufficient at nearly 4 years old and requires not much more than the 2.5 year old girl of my co-wife. But let me tell you, sometimes I want to lock him in my house away from them despite his pleadings to go play with the kids. Because when he is there for a while and comes home, he is A MONSTER. He cries on cue. He screams and throws things. He sticks his tongue out and mocks me when I tell him to do something. Allll things he learned from my husband's daughter that go unpunished in their house. But he is punished and too harshly there for irrelevant things. I can't be sure who is hitting him and the adults are laughing it off as cute kids' fun. He hit his sister the other day and when I demanded an explanation, he responded with his big, curious eyes "Because she's my sister, momma. That's why I hit her..." OMG!!!! I hate this culture!!!! My husband suggested putting my son in preschool since he'll be old enough in a few months, a suggestion I promptly shot down because here, he would most assuredly get beat in school, most assuredly be a monster 24/7, most assuredly lose any remaining resemblance to my beautiful Dayo baby.

So, what am I to do? How can I take control of this situation? How can I protect my children and still be able to recover from giving birth and bond with my newborn? Your guess is as good as mine. But I am starting with this: staying away from my MIL and the drama that goes on in her family for as long as possible. Since I am near giving birth, and since afterward it wont be strange for a new mom to need to stay home for weeks, I have an excuse, alhamdulillah. After that, who can tell? But I am doing what I can now!


Next time, I'll talk about another change I need to make. Next up: Balancing my needs with my children's needs, in particular regarding my internet/computer usage. For a preview, check out this wonderful, wonderful website: http://www.handsfreemama.com/2012/05/07/how-to-miss-a-childhood/

Dual Family Dynamics

Asalaamu alaykum, friends. Sorry I haven't updated since my husband was still away. Alhamdulillah he and my mother-in-law returned from umrah, and even a week early! We weren't expecting them to return until Thursday but they came home on Sunday because of a scheduling conflict. They were welcomed with warmth and excited kids and they were just dripping with noor (spiritual light). I have never seen my MIL smile so much (actually...she rarely smiles at all). She seemed like a young woman, a healthy woman. My husband looks so good, in my opinion, with his head and mustache shaved. He looks even better as the hair is growing back in.

I completed almost all my goals, and got them done in 1/2 the time I thought I would have. I can't say how good it feels to set goals and complete them. I have disappointed myself so often for so long...it feels nice to be proud of myself. Now, I bake either bread or cinnamon rolls or cookies or make pancakes virtually everyday and I love that when my son says he wants some cookies or something, I don't have to ask my husband to go buy something horribly unhealthy in a package from the store. I began my Seekers Guidance.org classes and I love them. They give me something to focus on and a deadline to meet every week.

But, I didn't come here to talk about my joy at their return or my healthy pride in my new-found skills. No, today I feel low. I feel bogged down and tired. I think it could be the dreary weather today and the fact I had pancakes rather than eggs and fool for breakfast, but I just feel run down.

My husband had a small surgery yesterday and is now recovering. Alhamdulillah it was nothing life-saving but certainly not cosmetic, but he is in a lot of pain. And so, of course, he is recovering there. Not in my apartment but there, in their huge, comfortable home. Why? Here's a list of reasons he gave me:

1. There are more people to serve him hand and foot there (here there's only me. and I'm 36 weeks pregnant and chasing kids...)
2. There is a lot of space there for entertaining the many guests who will stop by to visit him (here there is a small living room. and that's it. No adjoining space for women, nothing.)
3. I am huge and pregnant and I can't lift him off the bed to help him bathe or eat or adjust his pillows or anything. There, there are a number of people able to help with these practical needs.
4. I am having a baby in round about 4 weeks and he will be with me 100% of the time (yeah...right) for at least 2 weeks, so he says this 1 week or so he is there recovering is a week he will owe her anyway. He also tried to say that recovering from a surgery in her house "doesn't count" regarding sharing time. Yeah...that argument lasted a whole 2 minutes.
5. There are 2 small children here who will not be quiet and leave baba alone while he rests. There is one single small child there who is never quiet but...I digress.

So I am worried about him, of course, but know he is well-taken care of. The problem, the thing bogging me down, is the family dynamics  of that house.

Last night, they came home from the hospital (too early, in my opinion, since he just had the surgery yesterday morning and the road home is very, very bumpy and horrible). They called me and said they were coming home and that they would be home at such a such a time. So, my step-son came over to get me and right as we were walking in, they were parking the cars. He was already in the bed and I greeted him and his wife and sat down on the adjacent bed after giving my salaams. He was clearly in a lot of pain and groggy, as I expected. Soon after I sat down, my MIL came in the room. I smiled at her and offered my salaams and she did not return them. Instead, she yelled at me in Arabic, something about why I did not come to the house to watch the kids in the morning. I defended myself in Arabic that the kids spent the entire day at my house, eating, living, studying and playing and that I have a house for a reason. I need to clean my house, cook in my house and live my life  in my house. My groggy husband came to my rescue and scolded her for not returning my salaams and, along with his eldest daughter, defended me, insisting the kids were, in fact, with me the entire day in my home. She was not pleased with the response and walked out of the room.

Needless to say, I don't understand these people.

They have a home they love being in so much that they rarely ever come and grace me with their presence, and when they do, they leave as soon as they can. Excuses excuses excuses about being busy, the apartment is just too small for comfort, etc. The point is that they are more comfortable in their own home. And this, my friends, is perfectly understandable. They have a TV with Arabic channels they watch all day long (I have a computer wherein I read, study, and yes, waste time watching American shows I like). They have their own food. They have things the way they like them. But for some reason, they cannot afford me the same sovereignty over my own life. To my MIL, I belong there and have no excuse not to be there serving people. To her, that is everyone's house and I should just sleep in my apartment because there is not space for my own bedroom there.

I want to comfort my husband and be the homely, warm feeling he needs after a surgery. But, alas, because of the reasons I listed earlier, he is not here with me receiving the care I want to give him, but there with them. So what am I to do?

While I was there last night, it was so, so awkward and uncomfortable. They (his wife and MIL) spent the entire day with him in the hospital while I and the kids stayed in town, so I wanted to sit with him and talk and comfort him. But of course, it was expected, though unspoken, that I should get off my butt and help in the kitchen, serving the people who brought him home. So, I wandered into the kitchen to see if I could be of any assistance and found that I could not. There was nothing to be done that someone was not already doing. So I asked my step-daughter, the one who understands English, why teita was so angry with me. It isn't fair that she expects that when they need childcare, I should drop my whole life and come to their house to watch them. When my husband and I need childcare, we take the kids to their house because it is not reasonable to expect them to drop everything and come to my apartment wherein they are not comfortable.

Where is the empathy? Why can they not just put themselves in my shoes? Why do they expect that what they need to be happy and healthy in life is too much for me to ask?

The day before his surgery, we had an argument about all this and he said something I have been saying all along. He said: "That is the main house where people come to visit me. I don't want people coming here. This is our home. Mine and yours and our kids." And it hurt like a knife. No, I don't feel sacred or set-apart for a special purpose;  I feel ignored, not important enough, not warm or inviting or clean or Arab enough to host guests. I cried and cried because for years, literally, I denied I even had the desire to provide a warm, homely feeling to someone, and now that I need it, I need to give more than I need to receive, there is no demand. There is no need for my giving because my gifts will never be good enough compared to hers.

My co-wife came into the kitchen and explained to me via her daughter why nana was so angry with me (she is my nana, the kids' teita). I said understood perfectly why she was upset in theory, as in I got the Arabic, but I disagree with her logic. So, I said in Arabic that "this is not my house" and "that is my house" and "I have a house. It's not here" etc. She seemed shocked and asked "Why isn't this your house?" I was surprised with her surprise so asked "Is my house your house? No. You don't live there. I don't live here. I have a house. I clean my house, I cook my food, I have a house. It isn't here". I further explained in English to my step-daughter that it is not reasonable to expect me to drop everything and come there, as we do not expect them to drop everything and come here when we need childcare. She seemed to understand and agree, but who knows for sure.

See, in their eyes, anyone and everyone should feel welcome in their home because hey, it's home. They don't know what it is like to live in any way but how they live and they assume any other way is less good or not normal. They assume that I want to live there but because there is not room for me, I am forced to live elsewhere. Poor, poor me. What they don't understand is that I am a woman like she is a woman. I am an adult like she is an adult. I have my own way of living life, just like my co-wife does. They view me as another of the dependent children.

So I stayed as long as my husband was awake and when he began nodding off and it was 11:00 p.m. anyway and my daughter was sleeping essentially, I excused myself. I explained my frustration to my husband and he promised he would talk with me about it today or sometime because he was tired, of course. I told him I want to be his wife, I want to comfort him in the ways only I can. I want to joke with him and kiss him and have the dynamics we usually do, the way we have always operated when the other was in pain. He said I am his real wife, of course, and that just being near him makes him feel good. I was happy to hear this and wished I could be near him the whole time. He said "my wife would not leave my side". I was hurt by this because God knows I don't have any desire to leave him there without me.

But, no. I can't. I can't just stay with my husband like he wants me to. He wants my company but he needs her and her family's service and they would never allow me to be what he needs me to be because for them, a man does not find pleasure in just being with his wife like he and I do. In their eyes, he actually prefers that I stay in the kitchen serving him but doesn't have the heart to tell me. They don't understand our family dynamics.

So it's dhuhr time and I called him to ask how he is, if he wants me to come, etc. He was still groggy and out of it but said yes, come whenever you want. But, I am delaying. Yes. My sick husband wants me to be with him and I am finding ways to stay away a little while longer because of his family. I don't look forward to being scrutinized and harassed by my MIL for having left at all last night, for not sitting with her for 6 hours cooking cook I can't stand. So my daughter is down for her nap and it is not likely we will go to their house until close to Asr time (in 3 hours) and I know for sure I will be harassed for spending all morning away from him. Because it isn't like I also have a house to clean or kids to feed or a life...

Somebody Stop Me!

(Sorry, kids. I couldn't resist...lol)


This is what I did today...

Yes, that is home-made bread from scratch, no bread-machine involved! And yes, that is home-made strawberry jam (in a previously used Vitrac jar. I swear, though, it's my product in there!)

Here is the recipe I used for the bread, based loosely on several recipes and altered to my abilities and what I could access here in small city, Egypt. I have tried a few variations with egg, without egg, with dry yeast, with fresh yeast, etc. This is the best I have found so far and everyone love it!

 It yields one 1-Pound loaf. (Sorry I don't have pictures of the process! Next time, inshallah).

Um Dayo's Ultra Amazing Sandwich Bread

2 cups flour (I don't sift it, not gonna lie. I scoop it with a spoon into my teacups so it isn't compacted.)
1 Tbsp. Sugar and 1 tsp sugar
1 tsp. Salt
1 egg, beaten
1 package fresh yeast (Not the powder kind in the pack, active dry yeast)
1 cup very warm water (for mixing with yeast. Milk would do fine, maybe better. I haven't tried it).
1 Tbsp. Samna/Ghee (or butter, if you are so blessed to attain it)


Mix the yeast with the very warm (not hot) water/milk and about 1 tsp sugar. Leave it alone to fester and bubble.

In the meantime, mix the flour, rest of the sugar, salt, egg, and samna. Pour in the yeast/water mix and mix around with a wooden spoon (or what have you) until it balls up nicely and pulls away from the bowl. (Or maybe you are blessed enough to have a stand mixer with a dough attachment, in which case mix it until the dough comes off the hook easily). This should take around 3-5 minutes either way.

Put the ball of kneaded dough into a greased bowl and cover with plastic or a tea towel and place in a warm spot for an hour, or however long it takes for the dough to double in size. (I placed mine on my warm balcony this morning).

After an hour or so, punch the dough to get out the air bubbles (and any latent anxiety you may have pent up inside....). Harass the dough like this, pounding and punching and beating (do I sound angry? ha ha) for a minute or two. It should be smooth and elastic-y, but not sticky.

At this point, form the dough into a smooth log and place in a greased loaf pan (or whatever genius contraption you can come up with to make it so the dough does not spread across a normal baking pan. My ingenious method? I grabbed a brick from the garden, washed it, wrapped it in foil and placed in one side of the pan to take up the space. It worked wonders!)


Leave it for an hour, uncovered, in a warm place. When there is still 15 minutes left, preheat the oven.

Bake it for 30-35 minutes or until the top is golden brown and when thumped, the loaf sounds hollow.

Leave to cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then turn out onto a cooling rack (or a plate like I do...). DO NOT SLICE IT UNTIL IT IS ROOM TEMPERATURE. No kidding. I did it, and now I know better. The middle will become all gummy and icky rather than fluffy and wonderful.

Then, enjoy!


Now, onto the strawberry jam!

I had about...ohhh....2 kilos of strawberries in the freezer (really, I'm guesstimating). I used them frozen for smoothies but had a hankering for jam to go on my bread and since I was out, I thought "Hey, why not make some with all those strawberries?"


Ok, first mistake I made: thawing the strawberries. The hull process (wherein you take off the leaves and bit of meat around them cuz it's hard and not yummy) is HELLISH when they are thawed out and slimy. hellish, I tell you!

Anyway, I don't have pectin and have no idea where to find it. So, I found a recipe here which does not require pectin (or, rather, not pectin in a package. One always requires pectin for jam, I just found a way to use pectin found normally in apples/lemons/limes).

Here is that recipe. I halved it since I wasn't interested in feeding an army on preserved strawberries.

The process of mashing the apples/lime through the sieve (since, once more, I don't own a food mill) was seriously difficult and took forever. I figure with all the bread-dough beating and apple-meat mashing I'm doing, my biceps should be AMAZING. ha ha

Anyway, everything turned out amazing! I joked with my husband on the phone today that when he gets home and sees how productive I have been, he is gonna want to leave me all the time! ha ha ha (Ok, but not really. Please!)

I wake up feeling wonderful everyday, mashallah. I feel excited about being productive everyday. I feel happy knowing I have a plan for the day, knowing I will have something on my list checked off before the end of the day, inshallah. I feel proud knowing I am learning so much and getting so many things done I have been putting off for weeks or months. It really is much easier to be productive without worrying about where my husband is and who he is with and if he misses me and if he loves me the most. He calls or texts me everyday and every conversation is short, sweet and affirming, mashallah.

5ish more weeks of pregnancy to enjoy this productive feeling before baby girl comes andf rocks my newly organized world upside down!

While the Husband's Away...(Update!)

...the wives come out to play? ha ha

As I mentioned in my last post, my husband and his mother left this morning for umrah. This, coupled with the hormones of late pregnancy, could very well send me into a spiral of worse and worse depression. But, alhamdulillah I sat down yesterday and contemplated ways I can take advantage of these two weeks before my baby comes at the end of May (inshallah). So, I made a list, not comprehensive, but that touches each of the areas I hope to improve upon while he is gone, both because these areas need improving and it's easier to focus without him around and because it keeps me busy while he is gone. I wrote it out and posted it on a very visible wall in my living room to remind me everyday that my life does not have to stop because he is gone and that with the right mindset, I can reap benefits from this time.


"Things I Want to Accomplish While Hubby's Gone..."
(Update: 1 week down, 1 to go! Here's my progress!)

• Start walking everyday (after Asr when it isn't so hot. I'll leave my daughter at the other house with the kids since I don't have a stroller.) I have walked a few days this week with all the kids but usually there is someone screaming and crying and making the walk miserable and they keep the (broken but functional stroller) at their house so if I want to use it for my daughter, there is no way to avoid the kids coming. 
• Put away winter clothes, get out summer clothes.  Finished 4-16!
• Clear away a shelf in the armoir for the new baby's clothes.  Finished 4-16!
• Put away clothes left in suitcases (from when I packed up and almost left.)  Finished 4-16!
• Learn to bake sandwich bread (using this recipe I found, or another. whichever. any recommendations for a beginner?) I don't know if one can be sure they have "learned" something, but I have baked bread twice now and plan to do it again. The first time was so good the other family LOVED it and begged me to come over and teach them how to bake it! 
• Spend time between dhuhr and asr at the other house (so my son can play with the kids and I can help cook the dinner since we agreed to eat communally for dinner.) This is kind of a frustrating/awkward situation. In their attempt to seem as welcoming as possible, they insist with passion that I come over after Asr to eat dinner (which is way too early for my liking) but the problem is I can't come after dhuhr to help cook because my daughter sleeps everyday at that time. So, in an effort to avoid offending her by eating without cooking, I insisted yesterday it's better if we eat dinner separately (for the above mentioned reasons) and just come over at Maghrib to have tea/coffee, etc. It turned into a big, long, drawn conversation in which my step-daughter absolutely exhausted by the end of the night from translating and all that was accomplished was her feeling offended because she still thought I was saying I didn't want to eat with them. Urrrgghhh!!! In my attempt to avoid offending, I did exactly that! Anyway...another 8 days or so to make it better before hubby comes back, inshallah.
• Plant the dill seeds I've been sprouting (the second round since the first dried up and died. :-( ) I have successfully sprouted some seeds but still have not gotten around to getting some new soil from downstairs and found a large enough container to plant it (since dill doesn't like to be transplanted and needs at least 12 inches of soil for the tap root).
• Read at least one story with each of my children everyday (alone so they get special mommy time). This is embarassing that it is something I am not already doing, but you have to start someday, right?  Nope. Hasn't been happening. I don't have a good excuse except we don't have a single book for kids and there is no store that sells them in English so I would be forced to read to them from a book online. This would mean telling my son no 101 times when he begs to play a game/watch a show instead and holding my daughter's hands tightly while she tries to smack the keys in fervor. 
• Cut down my FB time to an hour a day, total. (inshallah) No idea here. There is a really cool tool online called "Leechblock" I think it is that will not allow you to visit a site after a certain hour of the day or after you have visited the site a certain number of times or after a certain total sum of minutes has been used on the site. I meant to add Facebook, Google Reader and the other places I waste time to the tool and use it but keep forgetting. Today, inshallah. 
• Cut down the number of times I check my e-mail a day 2,3 max. (see this blog post for my reasons of cutting down my overall internet time). Ditto to the above. 
• Keep my blog reading time down to 30 mins a day (at present I check it every few hours). Ditto to the above.
• Get back into reading Qur'an everyday. 
• Start the Seeker's Guidance.org classes I registered for on April 16th. (You should, too! They are free and excellent! But hurry because many classes are already full! They have classes on fiqh, tajweed, quran recitation, memorization, spirituality and more!)   Yes! I am taking three classes: Hanafi Fiqh, Practical Tajweed, and Prohibitions of the Tongue. I like the Hanafi class but found out that most Egyptians follow the Shafi'i madhab so I am stuck with either learning Hanafi but accepting that most of those around me don't follow that path and having one more thing that separates me from them (in theory...in practice, I have learned Islam's practice mostly from my husband who follows - you guessed it- Shafi'i.
• Clear clutter/suitcases from the bedrooms, make room for baby.  Finished 4-16!
• Wash the backed-up laundry. Allllmoossstttt! There were like 12 loads backed. Now there is only two of clothes and two-ish of sheets. 
• Allow myself 2 hours a day of internet research regarding pain management in home birth/natural birth and other such labor/birthy topics. Epic Fail. Thinking about birth makes me all anxious so I have not been thinking of it much lately, let alone researching it.
• Continue my habit of washing the dishes while the laundry washes, thereby killing two birds with one stone. Not so much.  I hate washing dishes!
• Make sure all the water bottles are full every night in case the water stops. Sometimes...ha ha
• Continue recent habit of getting up around 7:30 (whereas since I married my husband, our rising time has gone all the way from 11:30 a.m.  up to now 7:30! good improvement! We would get up for fajr and go back to bed. Now, he gets up at 4:30 and stays awake all day until his nap around asr time whereas I get up for fajr, go back to bed until 7:30ish and don't usually take a nap during the day).  Yes! On average we're awake at 7:30!
• Make sure I am in bed before 10:00 p.m. Not so much. Sometimes, 9:00 pm. Other times 12:00 a.m. eeeek....
• Spend most of my day enjoying my children! (Read "Raising Our Children, Raising Ourselves" by Naomi Aldort for a very excellent argument on the many ways we distance ourselves from our children because of our own inner voices. Really touching, challenging read!) Not so much at times. I need a break some days. But we do cuddle and laugh together more than before.

That's about it! Whew! Yes, I know I am about to have a newborn, inshallah, and all but a few of these (or all of them) will go out the window, but I figure it is good anyway, at least while he is gone and heck, maybe some habits will stick?

What do you do while your husband is away to pass the time?

- 

Building Family...

My husband and his mother left this morning, early, to go on Umrah (pilgrimage) to Saudi Arabia. Mashallah, it is my mother-in-law's first time leaving Egypt, let alone going for umrah. She was so cute yesterday, so uppity and smiling and just VIBRANT. I was so happy to see her like that as she usually seems so old and unhappy and sick and just scowling all the time (and she's only 55). Make du'a that they arrive safely (their plane should land anytime), that their umrah is a successful one full of the joy and contentment that only connecting with God can bring, that God accepts their pilgrimage and that they return safely in 15 days. Oh, and that I don't go into labor while they are gone. That, too. Ha ha (I'm technically 33 weeks but measuring 31, so not so much concern of labor, as it would be horrid if it happened now with or without him here!)

After my last post and the many, many comments, I feel...ashamed? Is that the word? Like I wish I had real friends to share these deep secrets with instead of random people who don't actually know me. Heck, I would be careful what I tell my close friends and choosy on just who belongs in that inner circle, but I just type it out and press "publish" without a second thought!

For those of you who said if I am truly contemplating suicide/self-harm, I should seek help IMMEDIATELY, I am not a dumby. I know full well the cycles of my bi-polar depression, as I have been dealing with it since I hit puberty (no thanks to getting the freakin Depo shot at 14. devil!). I have been to numerous counselors and therapists and all say the same thing: you don't need medication. You need a good support system of friends and family who will understand you, accept you for who you are, how you are, and listen when you need it, without judgment and with compassion. The thing is, if you asked any one of them what is the worst choice to make for a person suffering through bi-polar depression, they would pretty much describe exactly the life I have chosen in coming here: no support system, a "family" that cannot ever know I even have a thing called "depression" because it's a major taboo they will never understand (and which can only be explained as being whispered to by shaytan and allowing him to take over me...), no friends, no chance to make friends, no one who even speaks my language fluently....you get the picture.

Bi-polar disorder + no support system + pregnancy hormones + being a stay-at-home mom of two under 4 + culture shock = the mess you see on this screen.

SubhanAllah, with the help of Allah many things have improved since that post. Because believe it or not, I am human and I don't just post things here and then go on about my real life like nothing is wrong. Around the same time I post things about the pain I am suffering through, I am having the same conversation with my husband and he is, in turn, speaking with his family about ways to alleviate my suffering without actually telling them, "Hey, my wife isn't crazy, but she is sick and we need to help her."

I'm not crazy, but I am sick.

Anyway, as I said, since I posted and life went on and my husband spoke with his mother and wife about the ways they ostracize me, suddenly things got much better, just like they did a few months back after she and I were ready to kill one another. We seem to hit a wall, a plateau that isn't exactly ideal but better than it was and then hubby talks to both sides in his own way and we suddenly get better and then plateau again.

Over the weekend, I spent literally all day everyday with the family Friday we went to my co-wife's sisters house in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Like, on a farm. It was so beautiful and quiet and peaceful and nice. We had a nice walk around the fields which would have been relaxing, save the unstable ground and falling a few times. ha ha. I wasn't sure of my place in her home but mashallah, I was accepted with open arms. The next day, I spent the whole day at the family house helping my co-wife and MIL cooking a big meal for my husband's cousin he has not seen since before he moved to the states (12 years ago). It felt nice to be useful, even if they made fun of my slow method of cutting onions on a cutting board (whereas they just hold it in their hare hand, smack it with a sharp, sharp knife in a criss-cross pattern then chop it off to the end. scary!). The cousins came with the baby who was the same age as my daughter, mashallah. He is such a cutie! The next day, my husband needed to take his driving test for his official license (something no one needed during mubarak but they need now, and don't even get me started on how complicated the process is!). We women got tired of sitting in the car, running the car and A.C. so his cousin invited us to his home to sit with his wife and her baby while the men finished the process. Thank God we did (after the typical arab argument of no, no, we couldn't possibly. "oh but you must!" "No, by Allah" "Yes, by Allah you have to!" "No really, we can't" etc etc etc) because it took like 5 more hours from there! Their home was lavishly decorated, nothing like our humble dwellings. The kids played together and when it came time to prepare the side-food while the men brought home some hot fish, although the women begged me to just relax in the living room with nana, I insisted, in Arabic that I am not a nana and I am not a child and so no, I will not leave the kitchen. I belong there as much as anyone else. I think this really earned their respect, alhamdulillah.

After that weekend, I began to feel much, much better about having a family here. Then two days ago (so....Tuesday?), my husband took me and my co-wife while he ran some last-minute errands for his trip. It was the first time the three of us were together alone. It was awkward a little, of course, but turned out ok. Then, along the way we got the call that his niece was getting engaged that night (doing the first step in Arab culture where the men from her family and the men from his get together, drink tea, talk forever about unrelated things and FINALLY shake hands while reciting Surat Al-Fatihah to have a formal agreement that their children will marry one another. The next day, there is a party at the jewelers where they pick out the rings and the next day, a party where he gives her the ring and they become officially married by Islamic law, but not by culture. Some months later, they have a "wedding" and party where she moves into his parents' house.....then they are finally, officially married). We came back to our town, loaded up the older kids (which was funny because we had to hide at my apartment so the younger kids wouldn't see the car and beg to come. ha ha) and went to the village for the party.

We still had some time before the party so we sat at the village house for awhile relaxing while my husband and his son and the other men in the village ran around greeting other men. My co-wife, myself and my step-daughter sat together in the coolness of the house and it was very nice. My step-daughter understands English to an extent and asked me, for the 1,000th time, why and how I came to Islam without the guidance of anyone. Then she translated for my co-wife who said mashaallah many times and seemed genuinely touched. Then my mid-wife asked me in a round-about way about how my husband and I came to know one another and get married, when, etc. This gave me the chance I was hoping for to explain once more (as I have explained it a few times already) that I DID NOT KNOW he had a wife when I married him and nearly divorced him when I found out and only stayed because of the qadr of Allah. She shared that he didn't tell her when he married the american before me, so she knows how it feels to be lied to by him. We all asked Allah to forgive him and thanked God that he is still a good man, a good husband and a wonderful father. It was a very touching, very intimate time and I am thankful we had it, especially considering she and I are alone here in our town for two weeks with only one another. The only negative thing that happened really was when the mother of my co-wife (while we were visiting her house) pushed me for details about the father of my son. All they know is that I met him in India, so they assume he is Indian. My co-wife kept saying that there is no way my son is Indian, considering how similar he looks to my step-son. They were really trying to get information from me, hard-core. But, I stuck to my guns, insisting (through my step-daughter) that it is irrelevant, he is not coming around and that I have an agreement with my husband not to discuss anything about my son's father and if they really want more info to ask my husband because my lips are sealed. Later I told him about it in front of them so they would know that he and I don't keep secrets from one another and I wont be pushed into sharing information because "the men are away". I did make a super gaffe though...ha ha ha. I actually tried to make a joke when they kept insisting my son looks very much like her son...I said ok, yeah. He is the father! it was soooo much awkward laughing since my step-son is only 13 and hasn't hit puberty yet. Thank God he wasn't there or he would have been very uncomfortable. Poor kid!


Wow...this post just rambled on, didn't it? Sorry! But at least you got a thorough picture of how much more involved I have been involved in the family, alhamdulillah.

What I Need

Imagine you are running a marathon (or biking/swimming/running a triathlon like my friend 'Becca). Imagine it is a very hot day in a very hot year on a very long road. Now imagine there are people ahead of you sitting around drinking water, just pouring it all over themselves, taking it all in. Imagine them enjoying it and when you eye them, trying to give the hint you'd like some, too, they act offended that you would dare ask them for water. "I ran this race before you and now I am enjoying my water. Get your own!" While this logic makes sense, you suppose, it doesn't make the pain less, the dry burning in your throat does not ease up. You decide to look around, look up at the sky, smell the breeze, maybe have a chit chat (if you can breathe) with a random runner next to you. You try to remind yourself how amazing it is that you have the body to do this, you remember the years/months/weeks of training and try to remember the advice of friends who have run the race before you. And for a split moment you are able to forget about your extreme fatigue and thirst. But then, there it is again: someone is sitting in a lounge chair under a big umbrella just swigging water. Cool, nice, refreshing water. And the need is calling out again.

This is my life, everyday. Either I am able to distract myself with the computer/movies/reading/learning/planning a birth/eating unhealthy food or I am in the pit of despair at the reality of things.

What do I need to be happy? What is the water I so desperately yearn for? I am not a woman easily tempted by money, diamonds, jewelry of any sort, clothes or any of that lot. I need three things and three things alone and that need has driven me, literally, thousands of miles around the world and I still haven't found what I'm looking for (Thanks, U2). It has cost me countless dollars, friendships, my dignity, my honor, two pregnancies, two marriages, and I still haven't found what I'm looking for.

I need a home. 
I need a family.
I need to be someone's wife.

That's it.


I got my traveling out of my system before my son was born. I am tired of moving every 6 months-1.5 years. I need to stay somewhere, plant things, watch them grow. I remember there is a pine tree my mom planted when my sister was like 9 or something and now, 11 years later, it is HUGE. It was a seedling! I need that. I need that continuity. I don't need a home I own. I don't mind renting. I need the "idea" of home. I need a place to belong. I need a solid ground to remember when life is all woozy. I need a place to come back to when the world is unkind. I need to give my children a sanctuary, a place of peace and comfort. I could give them all those things in an apartment. But not in a two bedroom while I am pregnant again, knowing we wont be here in 5 years because it wont work. Not on the 2nd floor where no one ever comes to visit because they are all old and unhealthy and can't possibly climb the stairs. And not really an apartment, actually, because there is literally zero privacy.

I need a family. I need people who want me around, people who value me just because I am me. My only family never did, and still does not. I believed that in getting married, then in coming here, that I would finally have that family. I believed they would see that I had everything I needed (back in Dearborn) and gave it all up because I wanted to do the right thing by supporting my husband in his need to come back to his country and be with his other family. Instead, in order to spend any time with my husband, I have to have the express permission of at least two other adults. His wife is the default option, never me. So if she does not mind that I come along, mar haba. Or if it is only he and myself and my daughter and his mom, mar haba. But so long as anyone has an issue with my daughter being in her car seat and so long as anyone wants time without English being spoken, I am left at home like a dejected younger sister. My MIL has twice now refused to go to the doctor when she was "sick" because I was in the car. She yells at me when I go visit her because I am not accustomed to shaking/kissing her hand when I walk in the door. No one told me this is offensive. I always assumed my husband does it because he is her mom. But does anyone care how often they offend me? If I yelled at my MIL in English the way she yells at me in Arabic, there would be hell to pay. No one ever comes to visit me. ever. I am alone all day in my apartment. My neighbor invites me over for tea so she can gossip about the other neighbors and harass me for the way I raise my kids. So, I reject her invites. I invite her over and she comes for 5 minutes, then leaves because she wants to watch tv. Doesn't even try to think up a more clever excuse. My husband needs to travel to his sister 4 hours away, the one sister I have not met but before he can invite me, he has to make sure neither his mother nor his wife mind. When they mind (by screaming at him on the phone "No, you can't bring her with us!"), that's it. Discussion over. His kids never come see me, even though I have only been nice to them. NO. ONE. WANTS. ME.

I need to be someone's wife. I need to be part of decisions made in our family. I need someone to need me. I need to be a benefit to my husband's life. I need to be the one he needs, the one he turns to for comfort and peace. I need to have peace so I can give it to him. I need to feel that his life is less full, less warm without me. I need to feel that there is something that I give him that she doesn't (that doesn't involve either halaal orifice on my body...). I need to be the one he says "I need to talk to my wife and I'll get back to you" about. But I am not. I am as useless and valueless as another of his kids, contributing nothing of benefit to him because everything she gives him is better. I don't matter and losing me would be a minor setback.

Of course, as he should, he insists I am wrong. No, no one hates me. They all care about me. They all love me. They just have their own ideas about doing things and I don't fit those ideas so they are mean to me. Or they aren't intentionally mean but I take it that way. No, I do matter. He loves me more than anyone else, I am the sweetness in his life, the laugh at the end of the day. I am beautiful and valuable and he loves me for me and would die without me. Very sweet words. Sweet, empty words. Words with no actions to validate them. I love you the most but you can't help me with XYZ like she can so you stay here for the 100th time while I take her with me.

I need a home.
I need a family.
I need to be someone's wife.

These needs will not go away. I can ignore them for a time which is both unhealthy and not a long-term possibility. They are not going away because God made women to need these things. She needed them so she got them. She never had to go without her family and friends. While she lived in an apartment for awhile, she always had someone somewhere to spend time with, someone who wanted her around.

So after crying for 24 hours off and on and eating so little I am feeling faint, I can safely say my happy streak has ended. I am in the depths of despair again fighting off shaytan's suggestions of self-harm again and I am alone while he deals with more important things, again. More important things like renting a shop to open so we can have more money and so he can spend all day everyday away from me, right around the time I am going to have a newborn. Excellent.

It's scary. I am asking myself what it will take before I will be as important as anyone else. What if I am bleeding? What if I go into premature labor? Will he believe my pain is real then? How can I hurt myself just enough that he notices but I don't die or hurt the baby?  I know there is a phrase for that type of suicidal attempt, something where the person does not actually want to die but feels their current situation is hopeless and needs the attention of someone more powerful to get them out.

It's scary because my kids need me. My babies. They need to play and laugh with mommy. Instead my son, such a sweetie, interrupts my crying fit to say "Momma, I think you need to sleep. Do you need to sleep?" Yes, habibi. I was up all night alternately crying and choking. I do. I need to sleep. Thank you. But what I really did was ignore him because it would have taken my attention off my suffering.

I need to be cared for in ways only a husband can provide. He should not be expected to be everything for me, but since he brought me to the middle of nowhere and I have literally no one else that cares about me, no one that worries about me, no on that knocks on the door when they hear me wailing, no one that would know if I died save the stench, he is my only option. If he does not give me a home, a family and make me feel needed, these deep needs will never be met and my heart will keep breaking when I see how everyone else's needs are always, always more important.