Quarantine Diaries: Working from Home Headaches

We are now coming to four months on from the start of lockdown, and although restrictions have eased, I am still working from home with no likelihood of returning to the office until at least September.

This means I have productive days, unproductive days, frustrating days

I like that I can exercise in the morning instead of my commute time.

I like that I can greet the kids with love as each one wakes up.

I like that I can watch the kids and see what they are doing, eating, watching.

I love that I can pray on time and with ease as it’s easier to make ablution at home than the office.

But there are days when it is an uphill struggle. Today was one of them:

Back to back meetings

E-mails piling up

Work and tasks growing in the background         

But all of that is part of the job and all you can do is take one thing at a time, focus and do your best.

At least in a vaguely sensible, civilised world that’s all you can do.

Sensible and civilised are limited commodities in my house, especially when the youngest two are on the loose.

Today was the day for them not to play up, especially as I was meeting the Chief Exec, Directors and my manager. So of course everyone did.

The girls got into a fight upstairs and I could hear them screaming upstairs, hubby was making phone calls in the hallways just outside at the top of his lungs and the boys were asking me what was for lunch. Thank God for the mute button and the blurry background effect on MS Teams (where we host our online meetings), I don’t think my offices management team needed to see my husband roaming around in his vest first thing in the morning 😊

If my youngest gets even an inkling that the video is on in a meeting, she will drape herself over me and wait for someone to say how cute she is, so I have to lie and tell her the camera is off before I chase her off.

If Darling gets upset, she sobs loudly (usually with my oldest daughter yelling at her to shut up and let her sleep) until I stop everything and placate her.

And if Gorgeous happens to come out of the little man-cave he has turned our front room into, he’ll start dancing or clowning behind me while I’m in a meeting.

Thankfully my oldest two are sensible and will try to discourage the others from disturbing me and will leave me to work apart from the occasional sidling up and asking for money or trying to show me something on their phones.

Part of me wants to set boundaries and tell them to leave me alone, let me work, or at least not make strange noises or cry loudly when I am speaking to people. A bigger part prioritises the needs of the children and wants to make it clear that the children come first and work later.

Today after solid meetings from 9am to 2pm, I stopped work and just cooked. It gave me a break from working, if not a chance to rest, and it made me feel good to cook something that everyone would enjoy and eat their fill of (rice and chicken).

Then I decided to change the scene, so after prayers, I headed over to my mum with the youngest two and my laptop and logged on again to work for a few more hours.  She kept me company, fed me snacks and my sister kept the girls occupied.

It was the breather and change of scene that I needed. I still came home to a stack of dishes, getting the kids dinner and trying to chase Gorgeous out of his bat cave, but I didn’t feel so harassed and exhausted as I do some days by 5pm.

Tomorrow is another day to navigate and another chance at getting the balance right insh’Allah.

Speaking Well of Our Children

 I have been meeting over the last few days with same colleagues at work to talk about whether we need to sponsor a platform for young people locally to share their stories of racism, particularly their experiences at school.  One of the ladies leading on the project is someone I have a lot of respect for because of her knowledge and experience.

In setting out her motivation to be involved with the project, she mentioned the experiences of her own children. She described them as her “four beautiful Black children”. Her description struck me because of how loving it was and her pride in both the children and their being Black.

It got me thinking about how I view my children and how easy it can be to fall back on complaining about your children as a default. I come from a culture that is quick to criticise, make fun of or be disappointed in children, but struggles to celebrate or encourage them. This doesn’t serve anyone – the parents that start to buy into their own narrative about their children being not good enough or the young people who would flourish so much more under our nurturing, encouraging and positive words.

Even done jokingly – in the way mothers often compare notes on whose child is more mischievous or more of a handful, this can feel discouraging to children.

It made me think about being more careful about the language I use about my children, both to others and myself.  Also, about how saying good things to them and about them is part of being grateful to Allah (SWT) for them.

We are our children’s biggest champion and advocates in the world.  We create the image the world has of them, we can open doors for them in doing so and give them a good start with people.

So insh’Allah I need to keep going back to my narrative about them: my beautiful, fierce, Muslim children. May Alah (SWT) keep them safe and protect them from every evil eye and every bad thing insh’Allah I pray that Allah (SWT) uses them for his deen and is pleased with them and us. Ameen.

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Joy in Every Moment

These last few weeks have been heavy and busy – all of the children at home, trying to get them to do schoolwork, prayers, their chores. Trying to keep up with housework. Always wondering what to make for the next meal for fussy kids whilst working from home.

My work revolves around community development, equality and diversity and youth participation. In recent months I have been working on our local authority’s corona virus response, including looking at how Black and Asian people are disproportionately affected by the illness and thinking about how we can help the most vulnerable parts of our community as we face a massive economic recession.

So the death of George Floyd and the Black Lives Movement has meant that my diversity work moves into a very busy, but uncertain and uncomfortable space, where I am trying to support others, but uncertain I am doing the right things myself and questioning whether I am doing enough.

All of these things have been overwhelming at times, depressing at times and exhausting at many points. I found myself asking what the point of it all was – children, family, work, community, this world. All of it seemed like such hard work and such thankless work. I seemed to be trying to do everything as best as I could, but none of it as well as I would have liked. Over the weeks, this feeling of running as fast as I can, but never being able to keep up, started to feel like it is burying me under a heavy grey cloud.

More and more I have turned to prayer. I am trying hard to hold onto some of the feeling and good habits of Ramadan. On days it feels so hard, but I am not willing to let go, constantly asking Allah to help me hold onto his worship and remembrance. 

Last night I asked Allah SWT to help me rise out of this funk, to find peace and contentment, to be grateful for his countless blessings.  I sat with the way I was feeling and agreed with myself to stop pushing, but to go through my prayer slowly, to take my time with each part and not think beyond it.

I ended up meditating on joy. I know I am a joyful person; it is my natural state and default. I see the good in people, things, and the world. I love beauty and pleasure (perhaps too much, but it is how I am). I let the small bubble of joy well up. I reflected on how blessed we are to be in this ummah, that one truth on it’s own blows my mind when I reflect on it – Allah’s SWT blessing and favour that we take for granted every day.

I reminded myself that no one can take away my joy. It lives in me and it is who I am. It lives in each of the moments of my life, if I can just see it. This morning I woke up feeling good. Hubby came back from a night shift and I just enjoyed my hand on his arm as he talked about his night. The girls woke up and I enjoyed their morning chatter and cheerfulness. I started to fret about what to make for lunch, and thought sod it, I just got paid, I’ll treat the kids to takeaway. I can use the time to clean my house and rest (and blog). There’s no need to overthink beyond the moment and make myself miserable before the day has started. I am enjoying the beauty of the day – sunshine and a fresh breeze after days of rain. I am enjoying the banter and laughter of my children as they sit on my bed distracting me. I am enjoying the feel of cool cotton on my new kurta and the cool floor under my bare feet.

No one can take away your joy.

It’s there in every moment.

It’s there inside you.

Ramadan 2020/1441: Last Few Days

The last few days have been a little challenging a we come to the end of the blessed month. 

Trying to get the shopping done, while fasting and in the heat, with queues everywhere.

Trying to kid the kids to pray, do some schooling, stop sleeping too much, sleep at sensible times, eat properly, eat a bit more…

Trying to keep up with worship, taraweeh (night prayer) and trying to finish my reading of the Quran.

It all got a bit too much two days ago when it was very hot, when I was trying to get all my grocery shopping and meat shopping for Eid done. I was half way home with the shopping, when hubby called to say a friend of his, who is stuck abroad, called to say his wife has taken ill and could I check in on her. I dropped off my shopping and headed back out to hers to find her with another woman, who had also come over in a panic. My friend turned out quite poorly, having been in hospital the night before, so I sat with her for a while and then made her promise to rest and eat and headed back home

On getting home I had a word with my older son about spending too much time on computer games and his use of language, with some swear words creeping in.  He threw an almighty teen tantrum and didn’t talk to me for two days. He’s just calmed down today and stopped sulking and walking around like a glowering thunderstorm. I except there is some more of this to come before he realises I’m not letting up.

My oldest girl decided she would help me in the kitchen, but only enough to make dinner for all the girls, but not the boys because they weren’t helping. I dd try to explain that this was not helping because I still would have to make food for the boys. I was panicking trying to get food ready on time for my family and for some others that we send food to most days.  I had also wanted to send dinner for the sister who had taken ill.

I threw everyone out, sat cross legged on the cool kitchen floor and took some deep breaths (okay some tears may have leaked out too). I then focussed on getting all the food done and making sure I don’t miss my evening prayers.  Thankfully, it all got done on time and the food sent to where it was meant to go.

But it left me feeling a little despondent. It seemed to me that I couldn’t do the worship, housework, childcare and cooking, let alone self-care or additional worship that I wanted to do in the hours that I had. I was just getting resentful, sleep deprived and sad. It’s one thing to nurture and care for your family with love and another to do it starting to feel resentful, used or put-upon.

So I explained to hubby, no more cooking for others and only simple iftars for the remaining few days of Ramadan, I wanted to rest and pray.  He agreed and had the sense not to remind me he preferred simple food and it’s usually my idea to cook new things every day.  

I’m also practicing some mean love with the kids and getting them to so more. I would say tough love, but I am feeling mean right now. I usually try to practice kindness and compassion with them, because I am their role model. But I also have to practice it with myself.  

I’ve simplified my Eid menu now to one main dish and have decided to put a s top on shopping unless the kids can go get stuff.  I’ve taken the pressure off my ibadah and might do less with less of a checklist but much more sincerity and peace insh’Allah.

Aisha (radhiallahu‘anha) reported The Prophet ṣallallāhu 'alayhi wa sallam (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) said, "Verily, your own self has rights over you, so fast and break your fast, pray and sleep." (Sunan Abu Dawud 1369)

“Self-care is how you take your power back.” – Lalah Delia

“Taking care of myself doesn’t mean ‘me first.’ It means ‘me, too.” – L.R. Knost

“There is enough time for self-care. There is not enough time to make up for the life you’ll miss by not filling yourself up.” – Jennifer Williamson

“An empty lantern provides no light. Self-care is the fuel that allows your light to shine brightly.” – Unknown

“Self-compassion is simply giving the same kindness to ourselves that we would give to others. ” – Christopher Germer

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Muslim Mothers, Anxiety and Racism

On the way home from work today I stopped at the shops to grab some groceries. In the fruit aisle, a young mum was blocking the apples with her buggy and little boy, so I waited for her to finish what she was doing.  As she moved away, her little boy hung back a little and she grabbed him roughly, telling him off for not moving. I told her it was okay, but she continued to shove him forward and walked off.

The incident made me squirm a little, the boy was about three or four and not doing anything wrong.  But I couldn’t judge the mum, because her manner and words made me think of myself as a younger mum.  All day every day with your little one, often without help or support gets exhausting and you can find it harder to be patient and loving in every situation.

Layer over that a level of social anxiety from being constantly judged as a mother. Your child’s every word, action and mannerism becomes a reflection of the way you are raising them. Anything less than perfect behaviour makes you a failure and a bad mother.  Half the time it feels like everything makes you a bad mother – letting your child watch thing on your phone, giving them treats, losing your temper with them – all of those things that you do when you are struggling or to help you cope.

Then layer that over with racism and Islamophobia – whether real or perceived.  We are not just mothers, we don’t live in a vacuum, our own experiences and the trauma we experience contributes to who we are and how we parent.  Racism doesn’t just deny us opportunity or make us fearful of the world, it shrinks our worlds.  When we are scared of places, of people. We limit ourselves in where we go, what we do and who we engage with. When we become anxious, we might see malice or dislike when none is implied.

As a younger mum, I lost count of the number of times people made comments about controlling my children, or having "so many" children or just being given a dirty look.  It starts to wear on you and impact on how you behave in public.  Always herding your children out of people's way, constantly telling them to be careful, "get out of the way", "don't touch!". Being extra polite to people, smiling and ignoring slights. After so many years the underlying anxiety makes you unsure - is the grumpy old lady just grumpy, or is she being grumpy because she is racist?  Sometimes it's obvious and sometimes it's not and you start to doubt your judgement.

That's on top of the exhaustion of trying to care for your little ones as a mum, and trying to ignore all the judgement that rains down on you as a parent.  Sometimes you are barely aware of the racism interspersed with our interactions in public.

So when I saw the mum being overly harsh with her little one, I felt like a knew exactly where she was coming from - maybe just tired and harassed, or maybe suffering from a type of social anxiety that comes from being overly self aware and feeling as if you are being judge harshly or disliked because you and your little ones are different.

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Picture of the Day 18.06.19: Byootf or Uglee?

My youngest two (collectively known as the Babies), remind me so much of my youngest two sisters: fashionista and Harlequin.  Not only do they look like them, they play and fight exactly as I remember they used to (and sometimes till do).

When they are good together, they adore each other and play like friends.  When they are “having a moment” there is blame and there are tears.  One of their favourite tactics in recent times has been to write each others names somewhere that will get the other in trouble (on a wall, on a pillow and on the stool by my dressing table ☹ ). It doesn’t work because I recognise their writing and the trick of writing the others name is too obvious. 

My youngest made me this picture to tell me how she felt about her older sister in the moment.  I told her it was not very kind and not true either, but had to stop myself from laughing.  I loved how she drew them looking exactly the same. 

Picture of the Day 15.06.19: Growing Up

I spent an afternoon with my oldest in central London shopping, squabbling, disagreeing and trying to hold my tongue.  Her GCSE exams are finished now thankfully, and she is job hunting, I hope this is enough to keep her busy and out of mischief.

I have come to the conclusion that we have different values and such a different way of looking at things and I am trying to respect that.  It still pains me the influence of peers and popular culture and how quickly it seemed to erode everything we have tried to teach our children: respect, compassion, faith and community.  Yet the pull of a certain kind of materialistic culture seems to override everything (the one that has every foolish teen talking about their “best life” – usually referring to new trainers, make-up and being allowed to go to Westfield shopping centre on their own. I can’t tell you how much I have come to hate the term).

In any case, we seem to have come to a kind of truce, where she is allowed to go out unsupervised, but must tell me where she is and come home before six and I try not to stick my nose into her business too much. In return she will be polite to her grandparents and help in the house when asked.

I am so tired of fighting and trying to keep an eye on what is going on with her, I have four others to take care of alongside my in-laws at the moment.  I think this is the point where she has to take responsibility for her actions and start managing her time, money, worship and studies – she is the one who will have to live with the outcome. 

Finding Your Bliss and Losing It Again

(Subtitled Don’t Compare Your Children)

Last week I wrote about stepping away from the daily grind and every day routines and spending three days in the path of Allah (SWT).  I stayed with sisters a few miles from home and spent the time in prayer, dhikr, contemplation and learning and doing dawah alhamdulillah.

It was a beautiful three days. I was very grateful for both the opportunity and the beautiful company of gracious sisters.  I came home at the end of the three days feeling inspired, contented and with a bit of an iman boost.  Once I got home, the contentment lasted about 15 minutes with the following wonderful activities killing my good vibes:

There was nothing for iftar apart from a little fruit salad that my mother-in-law had made.

My husband decided to invite another family over because they had no arrangements for iftar.

The time to break our fast was exactly 10 minutes away.

The kids started complaining vociferously about their grandparents and another child that had been staying at ours because his parents had been with us in jamaat.

This super-naughty kid wouldn’t stop annoying my youngest two children.

My in-laws started complaining about my children and the other child – and how they spent the weekend trying to keep them all apart to stop them from killing each other.

The lady who had been invited for iftar wore niqab, so I asked my boys to stay out of the room, Gorgeous was having a silly moment and kept barging in, only for me to shout at him and chase him out again.

I felt bad because the older three were fasting and were the last to be fed
And the kids hadn’t seen me for three days and I barely asked them how they were.

The poor lady guest looked so embarrassed at putting us to last-minute trouble and kept apologising.

I kept telling her it wasn’t her; it was the kids playing up because they were hungry…

There was nothing to do, but head straight for the kitchen, pull everything out of the fridge and freezer I could find and get the kids to start setting things out in both rooms – front room for men, back room for women.  I got everyone to open their fast and kept heating or frying until everyone had something.

I was so embarrassed at being a poor host and embarrassing the lady.  Guests are a blessing for Muslims and deserve to be honoured. I was annoyed that I hadn’t seen the kids for three days and they had organised iftar, kept an eye on their grandparents and cleaned the house and I barely had time to thank and praise them.

The last straw came after the guests had left, I had yet to eat and was trying to clear some space in the kitchen when I heard my in-laws complaining about the kids and hubby moaning they hadn’t even said salaam when he came in.  It might have been the hunger, it might have been the stress hormones pumping in my blood, it might have been annoyance at hubby inviting people last minute or it might have been because I missed my children and barely got to greet them coming home.  It was probably a combination of all of these things, but my brain just blew.

I stormed into the living room sobbing with rage and hurt.  I yelled at all three of them.  The boys happened to be there and took one look at my ugly crying and fled the room forgetting all complaints about grandparents and the naughty boy. 

I had simply had enough of trying to defend my children.  Every time my in-laws come to stay (which is every summer for five months), I find my relationship with my children deteriorate. I tell them off more, I criticise more, I seem to be stopping them from everything more.  The constant comparisons to the perfect children in Pakistan has me thinking that I am doing a poor job and my children are not turning out well.  The constant complaining to me rather than the rest of the adults in the house dealing with poor behaviour when they see it, means I get turned into judge, jury and executioner for the whole household.

Hubby sees all of the perfect boys in the masjid who pray taraweeh, are memorising Quran or are polite and compares to his boys.  I have a friend who tried so hard with her son that she put him through three different Islamic schools until he had a mental breakdown and ended up in a hospital.  Now when her husband compares she tells him “yes he is not good and I am no good, lets leave it at that”.  But the pain etched on her face is hard to see and her guilt is palpable, her son no longer speaks to her.  I felt so guilty when I took Little Lady out of Islamic school, but her behaviour had deteriorated too and I could see no point in forcing her to continue.

The neighbourhood where I spent the three days in jamaat was in east London and one which seem to have an issue with drugs and crime which is now affecting Muslim youth.  One of the ladies who visited us both days to sit in the study circle and lectures and even made us food for iftar, would sit with us and cry asking us to pray for her.  Both her and her husband had been very religious but had been too strict and this had pushed their sons away both from them and their faith.  I kept hearing these stories again and again.

I told my husband and my in-laws, they could walk to the end of our street right now and buy drugs, they could see the main road full of prostitutes.  Or they could walk the other way to the back streets and see girls in hijab hanging out with boys at this time of night – my kids were in the house.  I told them I was one of the only girls in my class who didn’t smoke in high school – no one bothers with cigarettes now, it’s straight to weed and upward promotion from there.

I remembered how hard it is when your parents are telling you one thing and stopping you from everything and the world is inviting you to everything else with open arms.  At this time dad-in-law graciously tried to interject and said yes, it’s bad in Pakistan too, back in the village almost every boy is hooked on drugs.  But I wasn’t having it, I didn’t give a damn about his village and I was on a roll.

At this point I was still sobbing my eyes out and shouting at everyone.  Hubby tried to leave for taraweeh and I told him to come back and fight like a man.  He rolled his eyes and said he would deal with this later. My mum-in-law tried to skirt around me with her walking frame to get to the bathroom to wash up for prayers.  I wasn’t having it and side-stepped to block her way.

Hubby left for the masjid, the in-laws got another ten minutes of tears and somewhat more subdued lecturing about the state of the youth today and how I didn’t intend to alienate my children no matter how flawed they are (I might have used more colourful language about them…).  Then they went to pray, and I went back to the kitchen, cleared up and got something to eat at almost 11pm. 

I felt guilty and embarrassed, but I also felt like a load had been taken off my shoulders.  I may have done it with ugly crying, but I had got my point across.  Hubby may have acted like he wasn’t listening, but he has been more easy going with the boys since, bringing them take out after taraweeh and watching football with them.  The in-laws seemed to have stopped their moaning, or at least are being a bit more thoughtful before they make a compliant.

I lost my bliss pretty quick that day, but I have slowly gained it back – because I spoke up before things got worse, because the kids know I am on their side, because people will think twice before they make petty complaints and because the three days in jamaat made me realise we demand too much of our kids and forget how tough it is to be young and Muslim in today’s world – it’s our job to help make it easier not so hard that our kids walk away from both us and our faith.

The Prophet ṣallallāhu 'alayhi wa sallam (peace and blessings of Allāh be upon him) said: “Indeed each of you is a shepherd and each of you will be questioned regarding his flock. The commander who is in authority over people is responsible and he will be questioned regarding his responsibility. The man is responsible over the inhabitants of his house and he is the one who will be questioned about them. The wife is responsible in her husband’s house and she will be questioned about it. The servant is responsible regarding his master’s property, and he will be questioned about it. Indeed, each of you is a shepherd and each of you will be questioned about his flock.” (Bukhari & Muslim, narrated by ‘Abdullah Ibn ‘Umar)

“My Lord, grant me from Yourself a good offspring. Indeed, You are the Hearer of supplication.” ~ Quran 3:38

Ibn ‘Abbas (radhiallahu ‘anh) said: The Prophet ṣallallāhu 'alayhi wa sallam (peace and blessings of Allāh be upon him) used to seek refuge in Allah for al-Hasan and al-Husain, saying: “I seek refuge for both of you in the perfect words of Allah from every devil and every poisonous thing and from the evil eye which influences.” He would then say: “your father sought refuge in Allah by them for Ismail and Ishaq.” (Sunan Abi Dawud)

“Do not raise your children the way [your] parents raised you, they were born for a different time.” ~ Ali Bin Abi Thalib (radhiallahu ‘anh)

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Happy Muslim Mama – GCSE’s, Fasting and Growing Up

Little Lady is currently in the middle of her GCSE exams and thankfully focused on her studies. As usual, she is being cool, collected and somewhat aloof in the face of my worrying.  As usual I am anxious and want to take away her tiredness and burden.  When I started blogging she was about 5 and my lovely, fierce little girl that I loved holding.  Along the way there have been some bumps, some tears and perhaps a reluctance on my part to let go and let her grow up.  The fact that she is now doing GCSE’s seems astonishing to me.  It also breaks my heart as a little reminder that she is 16, growing so fast and with so few years left under our roof until she sets out on her own life journey.  This is exactly the kind of thing that makes her roll her eyes at me…

I have stopped asking her to do her chores and I have been providing her with her favourite foods and sweet treats. She has been studying late into the night and then again after fajr (dawn prayers) for a while.  She has had about half of her exams and says she feels like they went okay.  I tell her she looks like she has lost weight and she rolls her eyes (I think she is secretly pleased). 

I am counting down the days (about three weeks) until she is done and can sleep, eat, rest and play without thought of studies for a few months and I can stop fretting.  Alhamdulillah I am so proud of her for taking her studies seriously and getting on with it and continuing fasting while she has exams.  Please remember her in your dua’s and may Allah (SWT) bless her and all the children sitting their exams absolute success insh’Allah.  May Allah (SWT) make them a source of joy and comfort for their parents and a source of benefit for their communities and this world insh’Allah. Ameen. 

I wanted to take a pic of her desk, but there was such a pile of food wrappers, clothes, makeup and stuff piled over her books, that I couldn’t find an angle that didn’t look like a junk pile, so this stock image will have to do – it’s exactly the kind of thing she would like.

A Little Eruption

As we get to the end of the twelfth fast, I am beginning to find myself getting tired. I am quite sleep deprived and I wonder if perhaps I am eating enough of the right foods.  I am also struggling with managing long hours on my feet in the kitchen, before and after iftar and managing the needs of my in-laws.  Between work and the Ramadan routine we have fallen into, there is very little time to even keep up with housework or reading Quran.

Today I thought I would give myself a break and order takeaway. Except we got to iftar, Little Man went and collected the food and before long there was squabbling over the drinks, Not just the kids either, the grandparents decided they wanted what the kids had.  I couldn’t take it any more. I shouted at them, one minute before iftar, when I should have been making dua.  I have asked for peace during that little window, just so that I can make dua in peace. I don’t think I asked for much.  I took my food and ate with the door shut in my bedroom.

I felt guilty and a little anxious about leaving everyone to it.  I didn’t enjoy my meal, even if I got some quiet.  I did however come to two conclusions:

1. The Ramadan routine is not fixed, if I am finding it all too much, I can change it.  I am thinking less and simpler food and everyone gets exactly the same of everything – they’ll still find something to squabble over, but I won’t be paying for drinks only for them to all start eyeing up the same one.

2. I have always held my tongue with my elders, but my in-laws may need to be given some gentle reminders about what I can manage and that provoking the kids is not helpful to me.  Hubby may also need some slightly less gentle reminders: i.e. if you can eat it in one dish, please don’t use two, unless you want to wash all fifty that seem to have appeared in the kitchen.  The kids may be getting the least gentle reminders if they are not careful, of the “do you want Eid cancelled?” variety.

We have another 17 or 18 fasts to go insh’Allah and I don’t want to spend all of them feeling like a Zombie with marshmallows for brains and a sore back, so I need to make some changes so that the month passes with a little more worship and a little less shouting at kids and the elderly.

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A Few Quiet Days Off

I have taken a few days off this week and next week during the children’s Easter break from school. I had lots of annual leave and extra hours from work that I had to use up before the end of the financial year or lose them.  I was looking forward to a break from the overwhelm of work, spending time with the children and catching up with housework.

We had hoped the weather would improve and we could go away for a few days. Unfortunately, our family car was stolen and it’s still grey and raining. So, we are at home. I kind of don’t mind. I can’t remember the last time I had the luxury of doing things slowly, or even having some time free with nothing to do – just reading, blogging if I feel like it, or roaming around the house aimlessly.

I am having to fight the urge to do “things” and the anxiety that I am not being productive.  Now that I have had a few days to mull over it and sit with it, it’s making me realise how relentless I can be with myself an everyone around me.  We must be doing something all the time, anything, being productive, aiming for something.  It drives me up the wall to see people doing nothing when they could be cleaning, organising, working, studying, revising, something. Even holidays and rest time for me involve doing something.

It makes me wonder what drives me in this way, some insecurity? Some fear of not having enough, doing enough or being enough?  I will sit with this a bit longer, doing nothing and feeling uncomfortable and see where it takes me.

In other news, my house feels like a battlefield at the moment.  Both hubby and I have had enough of the teenagers angry and rude behaviour in the last few months and decided enough is enough. Little Lady is rude and likes to hide in her room. Little Man is angry and explodes at every turn picking on his younger siblings and shouting and swearing.

We have tried being patient, praising good behaviour, not forcing religion down their throats and listening to what they say. We have tried being gentle, kind and treating them like young adults.  But there is a limit to our endurance and the level of rudeness and disrespect we can tolerate.  So I have taken away their phones, no takeaway or junk food, or privileges and no fun during school holidays.  Little Lady has responded by disappearing into her room once more and being surly and painfully sarcastic.  Little Man is furious. He is adamant he will get worse and we haven’t seen anything yet. He is refusing to talk to me except to say vehemently that he doesn’t want to talk to me.

I have tried to talk them down (sometimes successfully), I have tried reasoning, I have tried encouraging them to talk to me about makes them angry, I have taken their side when they needed me to.  But I am so, very tired of it all.  I can’t tolerate both their Dad and I being spoken to with rudeness and contempt.  I wouldn’t tolerate it from work, my wider family or the world in general, so how can I accept it from the children I do everything for? Months, even years, of day in day out fighting with them has left me feeling bruised and battered.  I ask myself isn’t this what parents are supposed to do?   Absorb the anger and keep going, keep being there, keep loving unconditionally?

I have questioned everything with them – my parenting, my values, my way of living out my faith. I have lost sleep and cried myself to sleep. In the end my husband reminded me – we have to keep strong; we have to stay united, we have to be firm in our beliefs and in doing what feels like the right thing with our children.  In the end they will all go their own way and we will be left together. 

At the end, I don’t know what to do any more. Except to be quiet, to be firm in what feels right and to keep going. To act with love, kindness and patience. To listen, to pray and ask Allah (SWT) for help, trusting he is the one that answers out prayers.

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Mothering Sunday 2019

One of the nice things about your children growing up is that they buy you nicer gifts.  This year they got help from their aunt Shutterbug and dad and bought me some lovely treats.

I like that the flowers are not cut but planted.  I’ll keep these on my kitchen window sill for now, but may plant them in the garden when the weather is better.

We usually spend Mother’s Day at my mums, but she is in Pakistan and due back at the end of the week, so we will be going over when she is here and hopefully showering her with flowers and hugs insh’Allah.

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Picture of the Day 11.01.19: Little Volcano

I told my youngest two off for fighting and told both to leave my room.  This usually results in Darling refusing to leave and Baby leaving in an angry whirlwind.  I could hear her from the other room talking loudly to herself about something being not fair and nobody liking her.  I found her in her room like this:

I quite like her approach to the world, if it annoys you shut it out and have a good moan. I pulled her out and she started giggling. So thankfully her temper is like mine: erupts mightily but fizzles out in minutes, soon to be forgotten.

Things that are Super Hard About Being a Muslim Parent

I have had some hard and very heartfelt conversations with my husband in recent times, about trying to do the right thing, trying to raise your children in what seems to be the right way and still seeming to get it wrong.

Like the following:

We have never had a TV, for reasons explained here. We have tried to replace it with quality time, games and books, days out and crafts.  Now the kids are complaining that they need one and friends and neighbours are telling us we should get one.

We tried to teach our kids about the Prophet (sallallahu alaihi wasallam), Sahabah (RA) and good role models.  Now they are interested in Youtube and Instagram culture. I cannot even begin to explain how pernicious, disrespectful, unIslamic and toxic some elements of this culture are and they are just under the radar of most parents (another post coming on this!)

We tried to limit tech and avoided giving our children mobile phones because we felt it would impact their concentration and affect their studies, they are adamant they are the only kids in the world that don’t have them.

We tried to make sure we earned only halal and fed them only halal so that they would be good people and do good deeds insh’Allah.  This means that our income provides them with everything they need but does not extend to luxuries.  All they see is that their classmate get to go on expensive holidays and have expensive devices – I have no idea how when half of them are on benefits.

I have had nothing but censure and nasty comments from my own community for being a Muslim working mother.  Between hubby and I we get by and try to help others where we can.  But it has been about 10 years since I flew abroad, even to see family in Pakistan (it would cost us about £6-7,000 just for tickets to Pakistan in the school holidays).  The same people who think it is fitnah for a woman to work, go abroad every year because they get benefits and free or subsidised housing from the government, even when some of them don’t seem to be entitled because they are working.  They don’t see anything wrong with any of this, but what I do is still wrong.

The painful thing is, that their children are well-behaved and becoming hafiz of the Quran or scholars.  It does not make sense to me at all and makes me questions everything we have done.

Hubby goes in the path of Allah (SWT) for three days every month and forty days every year alhamdulillah.  He teaches, leads study circles, encourages people to come to the masjid and calls to Islam.  In the beginning it was hard to be apart from one another but we were fully committed to the importance of dawah in our lives. When Hubby started his dawah work, I knew the children missed him and the boys especially played up when he was not there. We also had the promise that those that take care of Allah’s religion, Allah (SWT) will take care of their affairs, including their children’s tarbiyyah.

Now we get to see the kids doing anything to avoid going masjid or Islamic talks and questioning whether hijab is right for them.  It makes me questions everything we have done.

After much soul-searching and anxious introspection, there are some things I feel I have to trust and hold on to:

Much of the behaviors we are seeing with our teens now are just normal behaviors - they are growing, challenging, testing boundaries and trying to work things out. Plus those hormones are all over the place.

It’s not meant to be easy, enjoyable or perfect, our children are not for us to show of what good parents we are, but a test from Allah (SWT) that we have to undergo with patience:

"Your wealth and your children are only a trial (fitnah). And Allah - With Him is a great reward (Paradise)." (Quran 64:15)

"And know that your possessions and your children are but a trial (fitnah) and that surely with Allah is a mighty reward." (Quran 8:28)

When we see others getting it perfectly right, we have to remember that we don’t see the whole picture, only what they choose to let us see. How many Muslim families have to deal with dark things behind closed doors?

I also think we have to trust in what we have worked for.  As teenagers the children will challenge and question everything we have taught them.  As adults, I hope and trust that they will come back to it and embrace it and see why we did things the way we did.

Finally, we have to trust in Allah SWT), He can see the big picture when we can’t.  He knows where our path is leading when we don’t.  Perhaps what you sow isn’t realised immediately, but slowly and over time.  We just trust that He loves us and as always will be true to His promise.

Reading back over this, I hope I am not making my children sound like monsters.  I can see what they are growing and have their own opinions and take on life.  We are going to have to accept that and accept choices we might not agree with.  I can see also that sometimes our disagreements are painful for them and they express their pain as anger which is hurtful to us.  Clearly my role as their mother doesn’t diminish at this time, but rather I must grow with them and support them to be good people and good Muslims insh’Allah.

An elderly and experienced scholar staying at the masjid recently spoke at length about the children of religious families and how many were finding their children move away from or leave Islam.  All they had heard about growing up was punishment and guilt tripping for bad deeds and were tired of it.  He mentioned the importance of two things: positive language and examples in Islam and also making sure that the family spend a little time together for daily taleem (Islamic study) every day as this stops fitnah (evil or negative influence) coming into the home from all its various souces.

At the moment we are doing this in the shape of one hadith with some commentary and one sunnah that we can implement in our lives.  We take five to ten minutes and insh’Allah some of it will stick.

What challenges have you had with raising children in your faith and how have you overcome them?