Life Lessons Archives - Page 21 of 33

Birthday Parties Are the Bane

Posted July 21, 2013
by Mohana
1 Comment on Birthday Parties Are the Bane

meandmzwindow — My little man on a ledge.
Photo by Justin Harbor Photography.

Birthday parties are the bane of my motherhood. Not because they are filled with sugar overload opportunities for my almost-three-year-old who is a tornado of activity when not under the influence. Or because they tempt me with treats when I’m trying to reclaim from figure from the damage wrecked by baby #2, now three months old.

Birthday parties are my bane because they are a minefield of triggers for my almost-three-year-old who has the persistence of a heat seeking missile but I cannot predict what capture his determination.

On a normal play date, for example, we can chat in the car on the way to his friend’s house. “Sharing is caring,” we sing to a tune I made up. He then kicks his feet in the car seat, naming all the trains in the Thomas and Friends’ universe that he must share. “Share Rosie, share James.”

“Share all the toys,” I agree, nodding, my eyes flicking to his in the rearview mirror.
If there’s a new toy, as there was last week, the host of the play date can get smacked in the face for his quest to obtain the pursuit of his goal. I did manage to convince him to apologize to the stunned other toddler and the gasping mother which I counted as a victory.
Birthday parties? The horrors of the unknown.
Like the time we met up with friends at the park for a five year old turning six. My friend, a fellow career woman, was displaying a homemade Lego inspired cake, with due pride.

My son began screaming in earnest when he realized the cake was not for immediate consumption. “Birthday caaaaaake!” he hollered as fat tears dribbled down his cheeks as the other children played on the state of the art playground. My husband and I took turns trying to engage him in other tasks. Nothing worked. We waited, exasperated, until the cake cutting. And left shortly thereafter, annoyed with the toddler for ruining what would have been a perfect Saturday afternoon to burn off excess energy.

Cue last week, when we were in the living room of another friend’s house, one of the frequent play date sites, and he was climbing the bookshelf to get to a Toy Story DVD.

“Woody! Wooooooddddddddeeeeeee!!!!!”

I took him, squirming and all, at one point carrying him by the ankles (yes, he was flailing upside down) to the car for his pacifier. Lucky for me, him, and the other partygoers, once inserted, he returned to his pre-toddler-Hulk personality. I quake in fear of the summer ahead when the time of No Pacy is fast approaching.

The louder he gets, the quieter I am. I get closer, whisper in his ear. It doesn’t always work. And if he happens to hit me in the face, as he did the other weekend when I was taking him up for a nap, there is surely a spanking coming.

Somehow, the contrast of my whispering while he is screaming helps my brain maintain a semblance of control. The quieter I get, the longer I’m able to be patient and wait out the tantrum. Lucky for all of us – and any future fellow partygoers – the storms seem to be more quickly dissipating.

Did I mention he has a younger brother?

It Rains on the Just and the Unjust

English: Unexpected rains! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In the early hours of the morning, while the rest of the house slept, I was feeding the three month old with one hand and scrolling through social media with the other. Yes, the more repetitive a task, the more likely I am to do being at least two others simultaneously.

Scrolling through trending topics on Twitter, I saw the verdict in the Zimmerman trial. Not guilty, of either murder or manslaughter, since he shot an unarmed teenager in the name of self defense.

Outrageous.

The word is what I saw, or in part at least, the rage on the faces of people in Egypt, demonstrating for a government that represented their beliefs, while others demonstrated for their votes to be upheld.

Unfair.

That’s what many people were saying about the untimely death of Glee actor Cory Monteith, found dead in his hotel room at 31.

Inconsiderate.

About sums up my struggles, tribulations, woes with a few people in my day to day life.

It rains on the just and the unjust.

Hope your week is going better than the world’s at large. And you are helping your fellow human along the way.

Deserted in the Desert

Posted July 8, 2013
by Mohana
Leave a Comment on Deserted in the Desert

The flavor of your summer depends on where you live. Like anything in life.

Qatar Airways (Photo credit: Flygstolen)

But I can’t shake the suspicion summer here is unique from life elsewhere, unless you have lived in a beach town during the winter. The impulse towards uniqueness must also be a human compulsion. Hear me out, though, on summer in the desert.

Unlike a beach town which has a seasonal peak, rather than escaping to the desert, those who can, escape from the heat, leaving behind a skeleton population, which in a disaster movie, would most likely be described as “essential personnel” by a big chested general with muscular arms as he strode through the street.

For our family, this summer is no different than the others preceding it. Except maybe that we are going away later than everyone, which again conjures up survivor-like feelings, though this time of a social apocalypse. We, along with the others that are left behind (“to work” as my husband gruffly puts it) band together against the zombie causing level of heat, which when combined with boredom, can be lethal to the pursuit of happiness in these the most idyllic months of the calender.

People are taking advantage of Ramadan occurring over summer this year, overlapping with the school holiday, to travel for longer than normal. The requisite one month stretches to two months (you read that right my-reluctant-to-take-two-consecutive-weeks-American reader). They wave with glee, a sticky hand of each child in their grasp while climbing the metal staircase into the plane’s belly.

Friendships are challenging to maintain in such a seasonally driven place. You may be facing the pressure of work, family, and the unfulfilled desire to see friends who live only a mile up the road.

In a nomadic place like Qatar, which may have migrated from tents into skyscrapers, associations between people are still based on place. Your interaction with a person will start up, be paused – either by the long summer or winter holiday – and then end. Because sooner or later, everyone leaves.

Whether expat or national, whether because of summer, winter, a degree, secondment, or wedding, everyone leaves. The leaving may be temporary, it may be permanent. Ten years later people have been known to return to find the entire landscape of the country unrecognizable.

The intermittent quality of relationships here is reminiscent of the friendships you had during school. Thrown together by a particular context, making friends (or enemies) with those in proximity, and the tearful promises to keep in touch.

The average expat/family stays for three years before moving on or moving home.

I thought I was safer blending into the national social scene.

But my Qatari friends go to graduate school in roughly the same cycle; they come back, work a job, and then are off for the next degree.

We have buffeted two and a half cycles of leaving. No coincidence we have two children. Averaging a child, a semi-permanent social connection, guaranteed to need you for at least seventeen years, or six cycles, means we need to leave soon. Or consider adding to the family.

And no matter how hot it gets this summer, that’s an idea I’m not yet ready for.

What’s ahead for your summer?