Just a drop in with some shameless pictures of Abbas, nearly one month old already!
No time to write nowadays, as he’s a pretty clingy monkey and spends most of the day hanging on me, sleeping, eating or playing, we get only very few moments when he’s content in his Moses basket for a short play time. Which isn’t much of a playtime just yet, only lots of coo and rrruuu and ah! from him, and some smiles too – finally!
Dori is getting used to her new brother though she still finds him pretty boring as he’s no fun just yet.
Me and Abu… well, we would like to get some sleep for a change!
Today is my due date.
Nothing seems to indicate so except the fact it was set on today – baby’s still hanging in there pretty much without a twinge or any sign of an impeding labour. I am huge (like a whale, as my husband lovingly says), I have various kinds of pains here and there but none directly connected to any action, I have Michelin man feet which occasionally turn violet from the edema pressure, and I feel grumpy, fed up and in limbo of sorts. If I didn’t wake up 5 times a night for a wee, I’d say positively I can at least sleep the whole night. But I do wake up 5 times a night to visit the bathroom, so no, not even that currently counts.
Guess I will go overdue like I did with Dori – not pleasant at all, but can’t do much! So, let’s keep on waiting and try to stay positive…
…days to go – supposedly, at least that’s what my Lilypie sticker says that it’s left to the 40 week mark. I’ve been dipping into nesting reflex recently which resulted in me sending my husband out on an errand to hunt some crochet hook and yarn, so I can practice a bit before my real crocheting order comes around – which, so far, doesn’t seem to. I blame Easter, busy postal services and so on. The taste to crochet is blamed on nesting reflex.
I’ve managed to hook up my first creation which, amusingly, turned out in a shape of a newborn hat. Wonder why, don’t you?
September is almost over and October approaching, together with (hopefully) milder weather for few weeks – or maybe even a month or two. I can’t wait to open the windows in the morning and actually feel the cold air coming, never mind the freezing flat, because that’s what I really need right now – opened window with a light breeze coming in. Don’t get me wrong, I love the humid, heavy smell of sea which is quite omnipresent these days, but it would be so much better if it was Newcastle-like, with this cold razor sharp edge to it, which refreshes the heck out of you. God, how I miss those freezing mornings when going shopping, really. In Kuwait the air comes with an oven hot “thud” while it makes you sit on chair and go – “Daaaamn, why did I open the window again?” So, I’m putting my hopes on December and January, please, be it at least 5 degrees! I don’t care, I’m gonna dress in twenty sweaters and a blanket, just make the air fresh, please.
Dori started to attend British Gulf Academy as a reception classmate, and so far she likes it, although she seems to spend half time at home sick. Makes me tick when she brings home some headaches, running noses, hurting tonsils and deep cough, just because another parent of another child couln’t be bothered to keep his / her kid at home till healthy and sends that bag of germs to school to make all the other 29 kids suffer along and eventually (such as in case of Dori who’s since her ear problems quite oversensitive on anybody sick in her vicinity) get sick as well. And that can go on for weeks, becasue it’s usually not only one parent, who doesn’t care about the other kids. Hands down, I understand the need to send the child to school continuously – I have it too – to educate the small and clever brain and get the most out of the lessons, but really, it’s better to keep the kid a week at home and let the others attend without problems; the teacher will supply the ill kid as soon as he or she comes back with a handful of homework to catch up, so no worry. Let the others have fun too! Like this Dori seems to be on the receiving end of all kinds of viruses (the joy, when hubby came home announcing all her class suffers from ear infection, obviously transferable) and being the kid with that handful of homework. I let her stay at home up to the point we’re sure she’s perfectly fine, and two days later she comes back sick again, because… well, above.
I remember from my years on grammar school, our biology teacher used to say, “If you’re sick, stay at home, because I won’t let you attend my classes anyways, come back when you’re ready.” She was right, and she knew why. I wish more people had that sense in them.
Going to Czech, tomorrow night. Some fishy, I mean – official, business over there for me to take care of; travelling light, with one small luggage, no husband and no daughter. Laptop and pocket money included, as a child of the modern age I ought to have some calming piece of electronics with me, plus some money to feed it, right.
It’s a short trip for not so jolly reasons and I hope it will be over swiftly and more importantly successfully. Well, I can hope in that; with my (our) luck, it will all go everywhere but where we desired it to go. But hey, we’re getting used to it.
Spring came quickly to Kuwait; so quickly that it took just about a week to go from 20ish degrees with fresh breeze to over 30 over the course of the day, and 20ish during the nights. I bet my new shoes that when I come back it will be already summer in full bloom, with it’s typically thick heat which makes you think you will suffocate if you breathe too much. Not mentioning the free showers every few steps.
Dori, although still rather illegal here, finally got to go to school, not the real deal, just a nursery at the time, but better than a wire in the eye. She gets her necessary company of kids of her age, some correction in behaviour from hijab and niqab wrapped teachers and most importantly she gets to know the system and language of Kuwait. About time.
It’s up to my unclear business in Czech now to make it possible for her to go to the real madrasa, with homework, teachers with whips and sticks (oh wait, not anymore) and you know… the real school she’s been dreaming about for ages now, since Ramadan perhaps, when her cousin Fatoom started to attend the big school
. Nothing drags you better than a good example.
Wish me luck; I’m very certain I’m gonna need loads of it.