My Muslim Mom

As-Salaamu-Alaikum,

As a stay at home mom, I truly look for and treasure those moments when my children go down for their naps.  In the Qur’an there is a reference Allah makes to the mercy of night (time) and of sleep.  That has to be for the comfort of mothers!  Because when they go down, I can have a break.  Mentally, physically, spiritually a break.  The problem we’re running into now is that they have decided (cunningly) to take their naps in shifts.  Today she went down for a nice long 2.5 hour nap…WOW.  But he is still fighting it, and hour and a half after she woke up.  He is fussy and sleepy and ready for his nap, way-way-way too close to his bedtime and she’s wide awake.  I really wish they would coordinate this better and get in sync.  I have been advised to just put them both down at the same time until they are on the same sleep schedule. But the only way to achieve that is if I lay down too! Then I get a  nap (that is well needed,but I don’t get any work done…AARGH.  LOL 

I guess part of the reason I put up with this, is because I do enjoy my alone times them.   Sad but true.  I rarely get the chance to just enjoy them as individuals and give each one my undivided attention.  So this crazy nap schedule in a way it works for us.   They each get that undivided mommy time and they and I love it.  I guess its the price I pay for these treasured times. 

Saffiyah (age 4) was entering full swing into one of her rare but vigorous tantrums.  Running as fast as she could to the end of my patience and I could feel my own temper rising up to meet hers.  Al Hamdulilah, (Thanks to God), I did the right thing and immediately sent her out of the room.  “Go sit on the couch”, I yell.  Yes, I yelled.  But really I’d had enough…ENOUGH.  So she runs crying from the kitchen, where she had just made her latest mess. 

Ali, who just turned 2, three weeks ago ran to meet her.  I hear him asking, “Wat appen’n” in his broken 2 year old english.  More crying and hysterical sobbing, as if I had actually put my hands on her.  “Wat mat-ur?”  He asks again.  She still doesn’t answer.  “It ah-rite” he tells her.  “Hurt?”  He asks, he can ask that very well since usually he is the cause.  “It ah-rite.”  He tells her again, and gives her a hug. 

And I smile to myself.  Because really it is alright now.  I’m just so thankful to be raising children who care.  That it reminds me, his mother how much small kindnesses and sympathy mean to us all.

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