Tag Archives: husband

The Hell of a Choice

Yes!
I got major baby brains. Be it due to the due date approaching, very slowly, but surely; be to due to the fact I chose to go the alternative way once again and than found out it is far more complicated than just slapping a Pampers on the bum, I don’t know; or maybe just to keep myself somehow busy, I dug into the deep waters of cloth diapering, feeling a little odd watching a whole channel dedicated to that on Youtube, and feeling a little bit odder browsing all these forums and articles recommending here and there, this and that.
Needless to say, I’m still aimlessly swimming, though with a little bit better idea as of which way should I direct my tries.
Nevertheless, and no matter on which crazy diaper island I will end up, it will be a damn pocket slap.
Buying a whole new cloth kit to start with – especially if you don’t really know what is the best for you, can be pretty expensive and freaky. I’m counting with a great hole in my pocket money as well as my husbands money, but what wouldn’t we do for the little ones, right..?
I’ve been on three months long blogging break, for some reasons, mainly the fact there’s really nothing much to blog about. Weather is still the same (nearly cold for Kuwait standards), however we’re already third day switching on the AC, which is a big bummer, for me at least; life is still flowing slowly, and nothing much changes around, really. Boring, but settled. Now with AC.


I’m obviously eating healthy. Bananas are healthy, right?


Roger grew up a bit…


While the tomcats didn’t as much…

Being pregnant during summer in Czech sucks; and I can’t really imagine how it will feel in 40+ degrees in shade over here. I’ll probably hang myself very close to the AC outlet. In bikinis. Some really spore ones.
I’m 30 weeks as for today and slowly starting to have nesting reflex. Which is a bit awkward with a housekeeper in. So I at least take care of the growing (and increasingly rude) rabbit, and dig through internet for info I don’t really need and most likely won’t ever use. But it doesn’t matter, because I need to keep myself somehow busy.
My weight gain is scary and even the doc said I should take the doughnuts easy, which I forcefully and under the eagle eye supervision of my husband did (while I started to actually bake cakes, so perfectly negating any no-doughnuts-at-home policies with even sweeter sugar bombs). Recently, I was forced to give up on Coke as well, and most fizzies. Shame. I am however still a major red-eat-consumer, as opposed to the time in before pregnancy when I rarely actually even came across meat, or even thought about it. The baby makes me. How else. (Same applies for doughnuts!)
We’ve visited Dar Al-Shifa hopital, where I am supposed to give birth, and caused a bit (a lot) of hassle about my weird and underground techniques and wishes, such as daringly having the baby with me on room 24/7 except doc check ups, vaccination and circumcision; or even weirder “I want to breastfeed fully,” and the fact I really don’t like the idea of testing the proper latching and sucking reflex on a bottle ( O_o ). Good they’ve got no idea about my cloth affinity, than. Or that I intend to carry my child in a baby scarf. Phew!
Sometimes I assume the atmosphere will be better here (compared to over-medicalized and over-technicized West) due to the society and emphasizing the family and life within, and get rather surprised how far I’ve overshot with such a thought.

Bulgarian Heaters

Indeed, and they seem to be favoured over the Chinese ones here. No blame, I have goose bombs whenever I read or hear Made in China unless it counts for more than few thousand years old; but Kuwaiti people seem to have this other obsession and that is “What is from Europe, is always best / most chic / most in / reliably working!”. Now, I can’t say it’s not, and in many cases it will still probably be better option over anything made in China in the recent years.
But when we were roaming the souks for an oil heater I was surprised by the “Bulgarian, Bulgarian, buy, buy!” attitude of some shop assistants, to be honest. When I was faced with the choice of Chinese heater vs. Bulgarian one, I was really surprised as both options seemed rather crazy to me – not to the others, though!
Well, we’ve got ourselves a small, portable (Bulgarian) heater now, which is used most of the day but mainly in our bedroom. So spoiled, we are now. The room temperature hits 20 degrees and we go all bonkers with pullovers, fluffy socks, hot teas and a heater turned on the higher level.



Over the day when hubby’s at work and kiddo at school I steal the small warmth provider for my room and tug in a blanket with green tea (or milk with coffee, formerly known as coffee with milk, but due to the small inhabitant prohibited as alcohol in Kuwait now, by my husband mainly) and a book. I’m getting much better with my speed of reading in English though, sadly.
Meaning I can read one book in a day – meaning I need a lot of books to keep myself busy and that’s a lot of trips to Virgin store and a lot of KDs spent on printed paper and all that hassle my beloved half hates so much. On the other hand I’m glad my English isn’t so rusty just yet, under the influence of arabized English of Kuwait and me being all but a good student.

Random evenings are now filled with either the classical heater-book-iPod-PC-TV laziness, or hussainiyah visits for religious lessons on the event of Ashura and eventually the whole month of Muharram. Dori loves it, not for the mourning, but for the fact that to keep her silent and busy she can borrow my old – and long time broken – Tamagotchi. Soon to be hers, as soon as my new toy comes!
Yes, I’m quite playful, sometimes. But the EMS from Japan is not cooperating with me, and with the sorry state of Kuwait postal service I’ll be glad to get it this year and uncut, ungutted and working, even. Hope never dies! Oh wait, was that love?
Nevermind, let’s hope my present to myself will arrive in tact and soon! Off to hussainiyah now.

I Can’t Believe it’s Winter Time

So here we are, in the first Advent week, outside are mere 15 degrees, still sunny and the occasional rain was probably just the last week’s news. As for now, it actually can still get pretty hot over the day.
I’ve finally (!) managed to fix my SD card reader, who would think that after a year of not working I would have this brilliant idea (which, as I found out later on on Google, is pretty non-brilliant and kind of *duuuh*), and I uninstalled all generic USB drivers on my PC and let it re-install with a restart. Bam, I’ve got myself a working SD card reader. I just wish I would figure that out a year ago, so I wouldn’t be doing this clunky card-to-notebook-to-hardrive-to-PC thing… Oh well, at least I know it now, let’s stay positive! And some pictures to prove it.



I’m getting pretty fat by now which I’d say should be positive, as far as it’s not only the fluff supplies growing but also everything under them, in the order as it should and it is required. My next doc appt. is in two weeks and I am already getting paranoid if everything’s ok.
But, inshallah, it is.



I am soo hormonal nowadays. Hubby recently bought a roll from Cinnabon as a good-husband-gesture and I almost cried. Not over the gesture, but because cinnamon rolls make my stomach go awry already for few weeks, so I was torn apart between eating it and running to the bathroom and not eating it and making my husband disappointed and sad – which is what brought me to tears. The imagination of a sad husband and his good will gesture going to waste. So I pinched a little on it and than stopped with an excuse on a really full stomach. It was true after all and no lie, as the sweets arrived right after a pretty big lunch. *Phew*. Actually, writing about it makes me wanna cry too.
I’m also all tears over being far from snow, winter, miserable weather, and all these Christmas lights and awful design ideas of trees and decorations, and the smell of gingerbread and long nights and the smell of Christmas days I remember from home – a pine, an orange, some gingerbread and lots of colourful lights instead of a night lamp. Good for eyes while reading!
I was thinking about making some carton decoration for our desert home here, so my kid has fun when doing it and it’s better than TV, and our housekeeper is a Christian – so to make her a little happy and feel more friendly in this land of sand a mosques.
Will see, it’s still a lot of time after all. I am, however, definitely going to try to bake some of the traditional Czech stuff.
Oh oh and not to forget with my baby brain – my dear husband gave me a birthday present in advance again and paid for my site hosting as well as Flickr Pro account, so I can continue writing about nonsense and upload pictures nobody wants to see. Yay me! Thank you, Abu.

Stuck Waiting

Days flow like a sand through my fingers, all same, a copy & paste of each other now – Ramadan always changes the whole tempo of life, but being in Czech and alone changed it a lot. Well; it’s my first fasting in Czech Republic and besides the fact that I’ll probably eat a cow at once when I come back home (no halal meat nearby at this forgotten place), the summer days here are pretty long, understand, the light period of a day is damn long and thirsty; and yes, indeed I’m not physically alone, since I’m with my parents and sometimes with my bro and his GF here as well (who smirk very childishly at any mention of Muslim, Islam, or fasting – gosh, who of the sane mind would ever starve and thirst himself just to prove something as mere as self-discipline, and for so silly reasons such as the love of God! – but hey, I’m getting used to it again, the omnipresent misunderstanding and misconception of what I do believe in, not quite mentioning the fact that who believes in any kind of God or Greater Power in this country is deemed as completely nuts and weak. Dooh.).
So I’ve set my mind and body on sleeping late, getting up late, not biting my daughter in her butt when she’s innocently stuffing a doughnut under my nose throughout the course of the day, not swearing (hard sometimes!, I’m quite a bad mouth), and trying to invent telepathy or even better teleportation. One is obvious, second to put an annoying thought in the head of any officer handing our papers at the very moment, and that being that they’ve got to be done as soon as possible, yesterday was too late. Doesn’t work, so far, needless to say.


I’m waiting, waiting and waiting, for someone to finish it off already and let us back, because I miss my A. so much it’s unbelievable, so much that my heart physically hurts when I think of how far apart we are and how long I didn’t put my ear on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.
Kiddo misses her daddy as well but due to the fact that she’s surrounded by rather new (to her) forests, meadows, rivers and inland summer and her loving grandparents, she’s not usually as sad and blue as I am. Which is good, ‘coz two depressed chicks would be rather a lot to take on.
So I fast alone and long after the closeness of my beloved one – yes, even now after years of marriage I’m still crazy in love and I can say I love him more and deeper than ever before – and hope that our jinnie took her holidays and I can see my obsidian-eyed, ebony-haired and kind-hearted husband before Eid Al-Fitr comes…

Getting it Prepared

Hubby leaves to London tomorrow to pick up our accidentally-allowed tourist visas with a fine hope of legalising our stay in Kuwait later on, during the three months of their duration, and was half packing (for moving) and half picking clothes (to wear for the trip), when he stumbled upon his only dishdasha he brought to England just for my sake, when I was intending to shoot some pics with it. He forgot to bring his kufi the first time so it wasn’t possible and when he brought it a year later, I already forgot about my desire (obviously it wasn’t so strong).

Aboody

Now, when going through the hills of our clothes we managed to gather in three years of living in Britain, he found the whole set and put it on, just for me. I have that weird thing for traditional Gulf attire, I find it more sexy than jeans and a T-shirt. It just looks so clean and nice. And Abood definitely looks really shmexy in it – for me, that is!

podpis

Some Reasons…

… why I do love my husband so much.

  • He is just adorable. His smile, his eyes, his spirit.
  • He tolerates my moods, even the dangers of PMS.
  • He brings me Kinder Bueno when I PMS, knowing I will eat everything around.
  • He eats the food I cook and thanks for every dinner, saying it was wonderful, although I know my cooking is pretty aweful.
  • He cares when I’m late and gets worried because of that, even if it’s ten minutes only.
  • He buys me things I’ve only thought about having.
  • He brings me roses every once a while! That is just so awesome and gentlemanlike and adorable.
  • He is good in his character and has the right values as a man, as a husband, as a father, as a son, as a brother, as an uncle, as any possible role in life. His personal morals are high and he’s a wonderful example of grown-up for our daughter.
  • He is patient with my crazy ideas and demands.
  • He brings me milk even after 8pm.
  • He buys me toilet paper, because I’m European and he wants me to feel comfortable – though I don’t really use toilet paper anymore.
  • He stays at home with the family and doesn’t go out with friends or to play pool – his favourite – although I want him to have fun besides home.
  • He is willing to help anytime with anything I ask for. Peeling potatoes, shopping, even cleaning.
  • He takes care of the home trash-cans and bins automatically – so I don’t need to go out with trash. I love how considerate this is.
  • Although he’s a smoker, he never ever smokes in house or in front of me or our daughter.
  • He perfectly takes care of Dori when I feel sick or ill.
  • He has more perfumes than I do – and he always smells wonderful!