Thoughts

Háčkováním k lepší náladě a většímu břuchu

Alespoň dočasně.
Jsem zaháknutá jak ta příslovečná ryba; během posledních dnů nedám háček téměř z ruky. Háčkuju horem i dolem, vlevo i vpravo, a hlavně téměř celý den, samosebou s velkými přestávkami, neb rodinu pořád ještě krmit musím a byt občas poklidit jakbysmet – bo bychom tu byli pohřbení zaživa během několika málo dní. Pod vrstvou pouštního prachu, přepečlivě a strategicky rozmístěného rozdrobeného jídla a na zakázku vylínaných kočičích chlupů, tedy.
Čeština mi nejde, mluvím jí plynuleji, než momentálně píšu, neb v angličtině už i myslím a sním; tudíž se na papíře (obrazovce, v tomto případě, že ano), vyjadřuji přinejmenším kostrbatě a neohrabaně, jako čerstvě narozené slůně. Ta jsou neohrabaná, předpokládám.
Dokonce jsem si musela udělat tahák na tlačítkách, protože si pamatuju prdlajs, co se písmenek s diakritikou týče. Na tej klávesnici, to se rozumí.
Co se mého znovuobjeveného koníčku týče, zabavuje mne momentálně slušně, stále pracuji na dece pro naše letiště; ano, už víc než rok. To je tím batoletem, co mi to neustále odpárává, jak jinak. Lenost to není. Fakt!
Umotala jsem synátorovi svetr z měkkounké, nádherné a jestě dražší stoprocentní alpacy dovezené z Amériky, ale stojí naštěstí za to; kdyby mi neseděl tak akorát na ruku, nosila bych ho raděj já, než ten mrňavý nevděčník! Potřebuji na něj lepší knoflíky (na svetr!), ale to musím vyštvat manžela na nákup do Barakat a to by samo o sobě měla být snad i olympijská disciplína. On ty nákupy fakt nějak nedává. Vůbec.


Dále je momentálně work in progress dečka pro Mariam, naší neplánovaně očekávanou dceru č.2 (ale tedy, když to vezmu kolem a kolem, kterého potomka my jsme vlastně plánovali?); další jarňátko, očekávané někdy na začátku března… ani by mě to toliko nevzrušovalo, kdyby zatrolené batole už spalo samo o sobě a bez přestávek, takhle pravděpodobně zešílím ještě před koncem šestinedělí. Spánková deprivace je přeci rafinované mučení. Ale tak, aspoň si ty narozeniny budu pamatovat, zarezervovali jsme si hezky celé jaro. Březen, duben i květen. A že se v únoru nikam nepohrne, to se vsadím. Jako vždy, nejprve budu muset pořádně zvelrybovatět, než se naše děťátko uráčí.
Ještě se konečně sama se sebou dohodnout na dokončení a obháčkování oné deky do Mojžíšova koše (postýlka je stále zabraná, a za tři měsíce se asi neuvolní, ani nenaklonuje), a bude klid… toť, samosebou, jen na chvíli. Než vymyslím, co s tím duhovým mohérem a bavlnou z výprodeje, co se mi tu povalují po pokoji také. A ta divná, měkká umělina. Klubíčko velikosti dospělé hlavy… Ale s padesáti procentní slevou, no neber to! Něco se z toho eventuálně umotá.
Lepší mít, než-li nemít! (Klubka na háčkování, vážení. Nic jiného nemyslím.)
Omlouvám se za kostrbatý češtin i případné hrubky, ale psané slovo mi skutečně dělá trochu potíž, a to po pouhých sedmi letech v zahraničí. A k tomu těhotenská demence.

When Did We Get Such a Big Flat?

At least, it became much bigger after our housekeeper’s contract ended and I did not wish for a new one. Meaning, to my husband’s standards, I have to clean every day, with an exception of Friday which I attempt to claim as my free day. (Like, it’s so possible with kids.)


By cleaning, I mean the whole nine yards. Vacuum, mop, dust, dishes, ironing, washing, polishing, desinfecting, littering, cooking, putting kids to sleep, shouting at kids not to play with this and that and being ignored right away, and so on.
It can become exhausting if Mr. Pickles doesn’t grant me a good night sleep – luckily, alhamdulilah, this is more rare of occurrence nowadays than it used to be. So yes, on occasion I’ll crawl out of the bed feeling like a roadkill, not really so joyous over the ordeal upon me; mostly though I am fine and re-adapted quickly.
It’s just Mr. Pickles, who does the whole thing complicated, really. Either he screams his lungs out being restricted to my room only, making my sisters in law message my husband at work why the hell is that toddler crying so much and whether is he being eaten alive by our three cats, or he wrecks havoc all over the house. In the latter case he’s happy, that is true; me less however. It’s like cleaning with a tornado behind my back; I turn and see whatever has been done, has been undone. And worse, rather often. He also took a great liking in plugs, trash cans, cat litter boxes, Dettol bottles, vacuum cleaner wrong ends and other child unfriendly but awfully fun things. What’s child friendly is gruesomely boring, he says.


A Ram Sam Sam

…guli, guli, guli, guli, guli ram sam sam… (A-nooo-yiiing annoying..)
Not gone crazy yet, just re-playing this kids song in my head over and over and over since I’ve heard it.
Mr. Pickles’ new favourite. God bless him and his little taste in music. Here he is, finally back on track with weight and height, delightful average in charts. Hate them charts.


On a side note, I’ve been backing up the site for bigger platform update and have gone through some stats. Amazing stuff. Most searched phrases leading to this blog include: hijab whores (wow!), how to make rahash arabic sweet from kuwait (something with sesame seeds grinded and honey and… I don’t know, I just eat it ☺ ), skinny girls are not glamorous (yap!), face kissing (…uhm?), he already mentioned a third date (ok…), kuwait car stuck up palm tree (really, I don’t get surprised anymore), arab women ugly (na-a!), cholesterol level in kuwait (high!), vyvářka kotlů (wait… that’s in czech and not relevant to me at all?) and many others. None really any way connected to this blog.
Wow.

I’d Love to Have a Minute to Be Myself, Please…

… so I can finish some of my stuff. Like, uhm, the crocheted blanket I wanted to have finished by December. I am about 90% away from fulfilling that particular goal. Maybe a tad more. Note, that the blanket is supposed to cover a king sized bed.


Abbas, however, disapproves of my idea of spending free time and still – yes, still, darned Velcro baby – hangs on me with all twenty fingers. No space to breathe, that’s how I feel time to time (which forces me to tears and than being upset about how silly I am).
On the other hand, I do enjoy the little hugs he gives me on occasion when he’s particularly happy to see me; usually due to me carrying a bottle of milk; and I do enjoy the cuddle as I know very well this won’t last. Soon in the stores – The Baby Who’s Ashamed of his Mother. But for now, now I am that Milk Goddess to him. And I will remain one for at least six more months.
I still would like to finish my blanket, though.
I mean, is it really that hard and psyché damaging to lay right next to me while I crochet a bit? Well, tell me, is it? I sing to him, talk to him, pass him toys, while trying not to entangle my index fingers in a ball of yarn. (Did I ever mention, how gorgeous the Fishermen’s Wool is? I’d just buy a whole room of them and sleep on them. Just like that. No need to crochet it. One day, when I am rich…)
Sometimes I would just needlessly rage on them kids, and than realize how stupid that is; sleep frustration and feeling pregnant even though I gave birth (now stop that thought, not weight wise, all right?!), like we never parted with Abbas, makes my nerves… melt away. Mostly, I can stop myself from being upright abusive (in a sense of being much harsher in requirements for a “clean” room, “well done” homework, or a “good enough” nap). On occasion, I do explode and insist on goals being met and after that getting frustrated when they aren’t – getting myself in a pretty loop, I can see here from perspective of a well-slept person now (very first night since birth my sticky baby slept from 9pm to 5*30am in his own bed, oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!). But. That is really not a standard here. Mostly (they come at night, mostly) I am fine. Ask my daughter. Really.
My husband promised me to take me away for a day, after Abbas turns year and a half. I don’t think I will live up to that day in pure sanity, but OK. Effort is what counts.

5 Months of my Little Water Dragon

Abbas will soon “celebrate” 5 months since birth, me fifth month of not sleeping and sixth case of mastitis (yeey, not.)
Little boy is giving me hard time still and behaves like a Velcro monkey, hanging on me day and night, not really hostile to other people if you don’t count screaming them down as hostility, but rather unfriendly at best. Mostly he looks at you, puts up a balcony, a red T over his face (understand, his mouth, nose and eyebrows become bright red), crocked face and few seconds of mute cry, before the real shrieking commences.
He’s also got a new nickname from my mother in law, and that is Africa, as he got very skinny in the recent weeks, or better to define, he seems he stopped gaining any weight after the last vaccinations. So he’s basically a big head over very lean body with almost absent fat folds and muscle.


It made me worried sick in the past few days and after a consultation with family I’m taking him to a doc tomorrow to establish any next steps, be it supplementing formula (after my very tough fight for breastfeeding it makes me a bit sad, but everything for a happy and healthy baby, really!), adding baby food earlier than it’s usual in fully breastfed babies or even running tests to see what could be possibly wrong, in case he still doesn’t gain weight.
By Chinese calendar he has been born the year of Water Dragon, so let’s hope it will bring him all the strength and power he needs, since water dragon is supposedly the strongest of them all.