The life of a Westchester Mom - Halloween Madness

10 pm, Halloween night. Kids are bouncing off the wall on a mad sugar high! I’ve been up on my feet since 8 and I’m simply drained to my bones.

An hour ago when I walked in, Walid proudly boasted: “I cleaned up the kitchen!”

Bless him, I thought. I left a huge mess behind as I rushed out of the house to go pick up the boys’ friend, drop three of the 5 in my car at another friend’s, and head to another for trick or treating in their hood.

Granted I still had the last batch of laundry to do, the last two luggage pieces to close and all kids ready for bed. But the kitchen was a nightmare waiting to unfurl and my hero had just saved me from the kitchen witch's axe.

That is, until I stepped into the kitchen, an hour later….

Ten days, a trip to Egypt and a huge wedding later, I’m back and I can’t remember why I wrote that intro. It’s a good thing I had no time to finish it up! Lucky Walid.. he’s off the hook this time.

Fallin’ into Fall

There is something to be said about Autumn in NY.

The weather, perfect! Sunny, breezy, warm but not humid and for weeks-length rain seems to have lost its candor.

Westchester lights up with an explosion of foliage colors.. yellows, oranges, reds and greens.  Simply put, It's BREATHTAKING!

For one short season, I can walk the woods, jog the trails or just breath in the beautiful hues without sneezing it all back in a spatter of allergies.

It’s the Indian summer. It’s my Indian summer. And it never ever gets old!

Outside my window, my trees are beginning to show some yellow.  Squirrels have gone crazy collecting their winter stock of nuts. Looks like it’s gonna be a long harsh winter if their hyper panic mode is any indication.

But for now, I have decided to take this Fall, probably my last, by storm.. Canoeing in the Hudson, Hiking the trails of Greenburg, Nordic Walking the Woods, and just giving my summer tan a boost at Rye Beach..

Fall encounters

Last Fall, Tamara and I had a long encounter with a family of deer.  The male politely tried to shoo us away. It moved its head in a rhythmic movement. It was fascinating to watch! Obviously the angry animal didn’t think we were that interesting in return. We were upsetting their grazing routine. 

The deer kept repeating his head movement in hope that we might catch his jest and walk away. But we slowly moved closer, mesmerized. The movements became frantic, its head almost touching the ground every time it bowed.  Then came the warning hums. Then the hooves thumping dust all around. 

At that point, I stopped and just stared. Following my cue, Tamara trustingly just waited, totally taken by the baby deer standing behind its dad. The little one, just like mine, was closely gaging her parent’s every move, ready to run at the first signal, fully assured that we, grown-ups totally knew what we were doing!  Poor kids!!!!! Both animal and human.

The deer and I seemed to connect at some deeper level, because we both turned our heels and decided to run for shelter at exactly the same time J 

This game was not fun anymore. The animal clearly took me for an idiot for not picking all these hints, and I felt like I have trespassed enough and it was time to go back to our human existence. But for that one moment, I wondered… why is it that a chance encounter with a wild deer in the woods next door would be so revealing? Why did I understand what that animal wanted to communicate so much better than I understand most humans when they talk to me… hmmmmm.. More encounters to come!

Coffee Talk - Expat Wives : WHen is it Ok to UNFOLLOW?

It’s been three days and I’m still jetlagged. The upside to lag in this beautiful weather is that, unlike everyday of my life, I actually look forward to an early morning activity and am usually ready to pounce by 8 am.

Hanan, as upbeat and energetic as ever, suggests we make use of the weather+ my sunny humor and go for a brisk walk by the beach instead of the usual first coffee after a long summer break.

We talk about anything and everything, our vernacular speed matched only by our fast steps on the grass. We mention the number of UN and foreign-service spouses who, this year, have decided to NOT follow their husbands wherever they were posted. 

One friend decided to stay behind because her son is knee deep in IB, her private business also on the rise. One friend landed a dream job and has also decided to stay on. Another survived the Saudi experience for a whole year and has vowed to not go back.  The examples were too many and we started to analyze why we, the expat spouses, have suddenly decided to rebel!

The cycle goes like this…

Our moms all shared a common denominator: a relatively traditional upbringing geared towards a woman’s ultimate goal to become a dutiful wife and a great mom.

For some reason, along the path to womanhood, our parents realized that life did not quite always work this way.  Some moms hesitantly tasted the forbidden pleasure of life outside her domestic duties.  Some have even managed to establish flourishing careers and have achieved huge success.  Other moms, thrown into a world that forced them to rely on their limited skills and provide for themselves, have also, along the way, realized that we are not as sheltered as our ancestors used to be.

End result????

They all invested in their daughters, us, to become well-rounded, highly educated, very skilled and autonomous individuals.  They equipped us so well to face a world that is usually unfair and harsh.  But then, our lot decided to go the traditional way and married roaming career-driven spouses.  We didn’t just hit a brick wall.  We all collided into that huge Dam that is called Sacrifice, head on!

So here we found ourselves, molded into a traditional role we were neither tuned to nor trained for all our youth. We were expected to follow, nurture, support, pack and follow again.. and again..and again….

A few girls I know have actually fit perfectly into that domestic mold.  Most however, have fought viciously at first, given up when kids popped out one after the other, waited it out with a small job, a consultancy, a degree here and there. And when it was time to rise, like a dormant volcano that has suddenly risen from its slumber, they have revolted.

They are the girls who truly hunger for a little more than domestic gratitude, a lot more than what their spouses can offer ( I mean intellectual input rather than $$$$ and Egppps). 

They are the girls who believe that they can and should pursue their own path rather than follow and accept another person’s path.

On the outset, you’d think what a selfish generation. Do they think they can have it all? A man, a house, good kids and a career of their own??

The truth is YES! We are that generation! Educated, Rebellious, Strong and Confident (not that much!).  And I don’t see that selfish! We only live it once and we – in many cases (not always) – have a choice!

From all my peers who have already made the leap and stopped following, I don’t see an ounce of selfishness in their blood.  In fact, I see a zest for life so strong, that it somehow overflows and reflects on their motivated and focused kids. The few wise men, who have accepted and supported, have so far, maintained a very critical balance and thus have kept their marriages quite stable. Hint Hint J

Admiring each and everyone of them, Hanan and I slowly fall into silence as each drifts in her own thoughts! I just turned 40.. but my baby girl is only 5! When will my time come?  I didn’t dare ask her what she was thinking at this point.

Minutes after, Ramadan TV series and silly commercials overtook the rest of ourtrek. As expected, I went back home quick to cook for the kids before they came home… hmmmmmmmm.. Did I just confess that I turned …… Better get working on that bucket list!

30-6-13 chronicles

To Sheri with Love!

My feet are flattened, my back is burning and my arm is sore from all the flag waving I’ve been doing for the past 4 days.

It’s July 4^th and I’m basking in the glory of what we have achieved last night. 33 million people in the streets of Egypt exercising their right, expressing their anger and enforcing one of the very ground values of democracy: accountability.

And I was there..

I stood, I waved, I shouted, or rather screamed my lungs out. I went through a myriad of emotions in the four days I spent in Tahrir Square alongside 3+ million protestors against the reign of Former President Morsi and the Muslim Brotherhood he represented. I felt proud, lucky to have made it back to Cairo on time, worried from harassment, scared from violence that usually erupts in a second and speculative. Will the army back us up? will they stand for our demands? Or have we just walked ourselves into a deathtrap like the 40+ victims who were brutally murdered in the past few days.

But last night, after hours of extreme stress levels and horrendous shooting pains down my leg, news started trickling in: Media Tower “Maspiro” was evacuated.. Army moved in and took over… Baradei(only remaining trustworthy focal man) and religious clerics will back a military statement soon.

Moments forever etched in my psyche. Marei signaling statement has just begun, Alaa sitting so close to hear and loudly repeat Marei’s word-by-word oral transcript… me hugging both of them to listen twice… My grip on their shoulder tightening with every sentence they utter, afraid a word might escape me… Alia tearing up as it became clear that Morsi was out and we have won our battle… Dozens of protestors closing in to hear Alaa, our future hanging on his every word… A moment of silence… and finally… a deafening roar of joy, fireworks and my not so coherent screams.

I was genuinely happy, we finally did it. But then I closed my eyes and I pictured Sheri’s face, probably drenched in tears of anger and despair. Her hopes for an Islamic country that she can finally identify with now crushed. I could see her despair.

Two days ago, Sheri gave me a few knee jerking first: she facebooked me with the most impersonal happy Birthday instead of dropping by or calling like she always did for the past, what?? 30 something years?

Yes, that’s how far back we go. No actually, we go back even further. Four decades of friendship that I always took for granted. But the years have witnessed winds of change from all directions.  She quit on dance and painting and focused on a spiritual journey that knew no bounds.  I married into a UN career of country hopping and global life.  I never quit on my dancing, but I did stray away from the religious realm that she roamed in.

Rebels by nature, Sheri and I never lost our connection despite our vastly different lifestyles. We were childhood friends and nothing could stand in the way of that. Until that moment she chose to send me that impersonal Happy Birthday on Facebook.

For days now, we have been heavily campaigning for an Egypt that we believed was rightfully ours. Only now, we are campaigning against each other, and one read our heart felt pleas to the world to adopt our opposing causes, one would see that Egypt can never belong to us both. A country of age-old civilization and 88 million great people has no place for Sheri and I. Either her or Me. Either my kids or hers.

When did that happen? When did the cleavage between us become so deep, impenetrable? And Why?

I’m sorry Sheri…

I’m sorry you can’t see that Morsi failed to deliver.

I’m sorry you can’t see that raised himself above the law and pretended to be God.

I’m sorry you didn’t see many of his followers cry on the sidewalks of Cairo waiting for their trucks to be filled with Diesel, their livelihood on hold for hours and days.

I’m sorry you couldn’t see tolerance and personal liberties disappear before your very own eyes.

I’m sorry you couldn’t witness the fear in girls’ eyes as they heard menacing remarks for refusing to lose their identity to a veil or a Niqab.

I’m sorry you missed the looks of despair on my dear Copt friends’ faces as they started looking for exit strategies to secure their children’s future.

I leave for a year and when I come home, the change is drastic to my senses. To you it is probably so gradual that you can hardly perceive it. But the change was there and today… I finally see hope that Egypt will still have space for us both!

I’m sorry you can’t see that too.

Letting Go - Coping with Family Loss from Afar

I’m back!

Or am I?

I know I’ve been in a very bad place for over a year.. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t having fun! See.. my world works in parallel dimensions now. There is the Now and there is the other Now.

The first Now is my reality, the one that brings me down. These are the facts that I hate about my life. There is the loss of my dad, which I still have to seriously face and accept.  There is the loss of some people very close to my heart whether because their time in NY or in my life was up or because I didn’t have a computer for over a year and had very limited access through iPad and a dysfunctional not-so-smart phone.

There is also the lack of enthusiasm, a general apathy towards all the things that would normally lift me up: a good job, a dance class, a fit routine, a close friend or even a good book…

I’m done pushing the limits, turning heavy rocks over and reaching out for everything I can’t have.. and with that, comes my second NOW!

This Now is a spiritual realm I don’t quite understand. I don’t think I actually believe in this stuff but it’s here and I’m living it.

It’s that moment in November of 2011 when I went to bed and despite all odds, I realized I was actually very lucky.  My father was dying but for the first time in 38 years, I was able to connect with him on a level I never had. My father was dying and because of that I got to take my kids to live in Cairo among family and good friends for a short while.  My father was dying and for a very short period of time I felt very very safe so close to him.  My father was dying and thanks to him, many good people decided to reach out and stay close.  I don’t think I was ever surrounded by so many genuine and fun people.  It was then that I felt loved, cherished, trusted and not judged.  

Or maybe it was that moment last summer at the beach house, when I was settling comfortably in bed after an amazing night out with friends, when I felt that once more, despite the loss, the void that can’t be filled, the empty seat outside on the terrace, the sound of a nail hammered in my wall that has been forever silenced, the empty bowl of beans which my daughter no longer shares with her grandfather… despite it all, I had the most peaceful and relaxed summer in 7 years in that house.

Or maybe it was that Fall Monday morning as I was driving back from kids drop off and the magnificent foliage around me breathtakingly made me see life as so beautiful and so serene. Nothing really matters… careers, friends, family, money, material possessions, food, water.. Nothing really matters because at one point in our lives, we will lose one or more. At one point, we will cease to exist and it will all cease to exist, or matter.

I actually think it’s that moment… as I was shielding myself from an imminent sled crash in my backyard… as well as the incredibly good moments that Noha and Hedy brought with them when they came to wrap up a very lonely year in such warmth and amazing friendship.

And that’s the NOW I’m talking about. The Now that keeps a tight grip on my greedy inclinations for always seeking more than what I already have, for lamenting what I lost and what I could have had, for wasting so much time and energy on blaming myself, and sometimes others for my misfortunes, for holding on to anger and disappointment, mostly in myself.

It’s funny how life becomes simpler when it’s stripped down to its bare essentials. 

Walid asks me if we should move to a new country or stay another year. Normally,I would have a very concrete urge to go. All my good friends left already.  My kids need to be in a bigger more established school. I need to work to keep my dad happy wherever he is, and my mom proud and comfortable that I’m safe.  

But I look at my very confused husband and I sincerely don’t have much to say.  If we stay another year, I’m fine.. What’s another year anyway! If we go, I’ll just pack up the bare minimum and go.  Kids will be fine if I stop hovering over them like an overstuffed mother bear. Friends will come and go and when they go, I now have a new cool desktop to keep me company and virtually wired and connected. Like a true Roamer in this day and age, Virtual connections have become my only lifeline.