i'm waiting for you all..;-)

Hi friends! My new blog is finally up and running and I have figured it out (mostly) and I think it is doing its job pretty well.
Come visit, it's lonely over at imsufyan.com without you.

NEW BLOG ADDRESS

Hi Everyone!
I have moved this blog to:

imsufyan.com

Please check it out and update your bookmarks!

I just posted about the effort it takes to practice yoga and be a mom and have a household and have a life outside all this....

Let me know what you think!

post burnout: a week of divine intervention & pics of Ramallah Life

(scroll down for some good pics of Ramallah)

Nobody ever told me there'd be days like these.
And man have I been craving guidance!
I have been listening through the static, sorting through the jumble, trying to make sense of the scribbles and taking a fine toothed comb to every little happening in my life. But it turns out that when wisdom is going to be bestowed it doesn't sneak in quietly and wait with the groceries to be discovered. It clobbers you over the head and takes a bullhorn and screams, "NOW HERE THIS".

The Karmapa Speaks Truth: about the truth we already hold inside ourselves. A good truth to pass on to our children.
My mother had been to sit in the presence of the 17th Karmapa. We have had very little time to talk about what he had to say, but the things my mother conveyed to me were really powerful. Essentially, without trying to quote the Karmapa here, he told his audience that it didn't matter much what religion a person followed. What matters is to be a good person, a good human being. And (for me this was the big moment) he said we need to stop looking for answers outside ourselves and look within our own "minds".

Life is fragile: Love is not.
I am not going to elaborate much here. We got some very difficult news this week. What is important is that love is stronger than any fear. It is stronger than any pain. It is stronger than life itself and it matters that we love in this lifetime. "God, give us love in the time that we have" is an Iron & Wine lyric that I keep repeating lately.

A reconnection: I can set down the burden of a certain loss.
This week I talked to a friend who I had not spoken to for nearly 20 years. She was my best childhood friend, and growing up with her was like having a twin. We did everything together and understood each other on a level that is impossible to overstate. We were incredibly mischievous in the tree-climbing, secret-world-creating, "let's both be veterinarians when we grow up" way. We were soul mates. For a some time our friendship was the measure for all friendships that came after, making my expectations of close friends a little too high. Our teenage years split us apart though, a split helped along (maybe to some extent invented) by strife between our families. And the years slid past. Then suddenly this week I was talking to my mother on the phone and my friend happened to walk past and my mother just kind of put her on the phone. And there she was. I can only say that the feeling of reconnecting so suddenly was perfect. I miss her, and though so much time has passed, she remains a potent personality for me. She holds the keys to much of what made me who I am, my early understanding of myself.

An email of potent advice/thoughts from outside my own box:
A woman I don't know very well but with whom I've spent a few moments of co-mothering back in Austin sent me a long email after reading my post about Burnout. She had the audacity to verbally smash my narrowing view of the last 2 years of my life, and stomp all over my sorry for myself attitude. Thank God. After I read her email everything shifted. I felt it shift as I was reading, like someone had just pulled my chair out from behind me that I was just about to settle in to, but the fall being necessary to my enlightenment I didn't attempt to catch myself. I have no idea how she got these insights into my life, but there it was. So instead of paraphrase I am going to share the email (we are all friends here, no?). It may/should even be meaningful to someone else. Here it is--(the emphases are mine)

Hey Love,

I was moved by your post, so I am going to say some things to empower you. This is what works for me. It comes from a place of love and comradery, not judgement.

You were right when you said you "have had a lot happen in the past year and a half." But remember, it didn't happen to you. It just happened and you were there. Some of it happened because you chose it. Out of love, you chose to get pregnant barely a year after the birth of your first child. It seems you've also chosen to hold onto the story that you are mourning a relationship with your first child. That is a story and it is made up by you. It will come between you, Sufyan and Laila until you choose to let it go. I think that is what moved me most about your post to send this email. Why put yourself in pain? Your son is right here with you. Take action. Make special Mama-Sufyan dates, so you can reconnect just one on one. And yes, Laila had GERD (which I cannot begin to imagine). And you loved her right through all of it. Through the screaming and exhaustion. You loved her right through it because you chose to. Out of love for your family you chose to sell your house. You needed more room. You didn't leave any part of your heart there, that's another story. You love that house and you will continue to love that house for the rest of your life, you just won't live in it anymore. (This I have experience with. We sold our house in March. I spent the best 10 years there.) You chose to live in a bigger house and it happened that you needed to move. You chose to move to an occupied country.

And out of deep love you are choosing to educate those of us who are/were completely ignorant about the situation in Palestine. For this I am so grateful.

So you had to ask your husband to come home from work. I had to do that at least twice when my daughter was less than 2-years old. We had a code so he could distinguish between when I was letting off steam and when I needed him to take action. It was, "The pink giraffe is in the living room." That meant it was a family emergency of epic proportions. Come home now. I used to feel like I failed somehow because I couldn't do it all by myself. That was my story. Here's a news flash: no one can do anything all by themselves. We are all in this together. If one person is suffering we are all suffering. Please call me, night or day, if you reach a low point. I mean this. If it's at night, call my house phone because I don't keep my cell in the bedroom. My cell phone is________. If I read a post where I see that you need to reach out to someone and you didn't, then I'm going to send you another email like it or not. I don't know you well, but I love you and your family. I love what you stand for. And by the way I am pregnant, so I am paying it forward in advance. At some point in the future, I may need to be reminded that I cannot do it all by myself.

You are powerful beyond your imagination. Just remember that. And go ahead and burn the story. Or read it out loud until it becomes hilarious, then burn it and be free.

and for the record, I agree with her 100%.

As for educating about Palestine, here are some particularly lovely pics I took this week of Ramallah Life:

This man is like many here who wheel carts through the streets and vend everything from fruit to bread to seasonal treats like roasted corn or roasted fresh chick peas. These guys work really really hard.


Laundry.





Trash telling it like it is


For you to see the explosion of population here. The closeness of the buildings. That every building is forced to store water in sad black tanks on the roof. I particularly love the narrow building in the lower center left with the rounded face. It is like a corner building except the angle is like 30 degrees instead of 90. All built on the sides of steep hills that make up Ramallah.


These 3 guys were riding through the street today, all bareback and all wearing "cowboy" hats.


Another cart. This one full of green grapes.


A lovely old home. This is a more wealthy seeming home but still quite old and in the old style of buildings here before everything was high rises and uniform white bricks. The kids and I found this house while getting lost going elsewhere one day last week.


The Coptic Church. A landmark. As in, "Take a left going up the hill toward the Coptic Church..." Mainly I want to make it clear in case you didn't know that there is a Christian population here. After all, Christ was born here.


A mosque towering over the same area as above. This is near our home.


So I will be digesting that email for some time. And all the other eye opening things that happened this week.
Thank you to everyone who has written me and called me and let me know I am not alone.

some views of Ramallah

Mint lemonade...at Stars and Bucks.


This place is amazing. It's a shoe shop. The shoes are made here in Palestine (in Betunia). If they don't have what you want, they'll make it for you. Women even go to the nearby factory and cut their own shapes and designs. The pair I had made for me (because I LOVE shoes) keep getting mistaken for Campers. But they are even better because they are made here!


These are water tanks. Every building has them. Our water is shut off except for 3 days a week for the summer months, but since we have 2 tanks we don't notice it unless we try to use the outside hose. Israel controls all sources of water, even the municipal sources. We cannot even build reservoirs to catch rainwater.


City scape


other direction, pic taken from a 3rd floor apartment.


inside the community center called the Sariya, a bit like a YMCA (but not the Ramallah YMCA which does exist), this is a door and window outside the bathrooms. On the table is a burner and coffee accoutrements. I like this pic because it captures the old tile floors, the old metal door, the old stones and the extremely different idea of what is appropriate in a public space.


Another evening view of our hills.


This brush was on fire as we drove past.


a closer look. there always seems to be a fire. We see them constantly across the wadi on the hillsides.


A strange area outside Ramallah:

this is a view of a total lack of municipal regulations for building. Look how close together these are. This situation exists in a very strange area of Ramallah that Israel considers to be a suburb of Israel but only allows Palestinians to live in, and so only Palestinians with a Jerusalem ID and yellow plated car can live in it. I cannot live there, for example, but neither could I if I was Israeli. However, the people there pay Israeli municipal taxes and receive NO municipal services. At the same time Israel doesn't allow Palestine to provide these services because technically it's a Jerusalem suburb. Catch 22. Result? Below. And trash trash trash galore. And bizarro driving conditions, and a lot of obvious suffering from poverty and neglect.

This is the same place, just a different angle on a building that is being built. I have a friend who lives here and she says there are no building codes so the buildings may collapse due to any of a number of oversights: wrong concrete, inadequate support, etc. But she has no choice but to live here due to her ID status with Israel. For all that, her place is really nice even though getting there is frightening.

this is actually a main thoroughfare. Can. You. Believe. It???


Traditional dress called a Toub. Hand embroidered. But this is not a relic! I see women wearing this kind of dress and even more elaborate ALL the time every day.


close up of the embroidery.


Argile. It is also everywhere which is unfortunate. And when we go out to eat it freaks me out to have my kids running around near them because they are topped with hot coals and there is always "Abu Ali" walking around with a hot tin of fresh coals for the smokers. People come to restaurants and shops to smoke these and are given a disposable plastic cover for the mouthpiece.


Laundry. We all dry our clothes in the sun here. Everywhere I look is laundry. And I have come to love the colors and shapes of it!

A better day

Today was Laila's first day with no diaper going out of the house!!! She did great and we had no oopsies at all. In fact she didn't use one single diaper today. Not one! Go Laila Go---in the potty!

Sufyan in flight

laila in flight ("watch dis JUMP mama!")

(and when she runs she says, "Watch dis EXTRA fast!")

Sometimes I wonder if I am the only person in the West Bank listening to whatever music I am listening to. Today it's Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys. But more often it's Iron & Wine. However, if I ever get a craving to listen to 80s music or early 90s I know there is NO WAY I am the only person listening to that. In the car 2 nights ago I heard Karma Chameleon and My Name Is Luca in the same errand! LOVE it.

My blog post called "Burn Out", more of a transmission from the edge than an update, prompted some private emails from other mothers and friends. In those emails was the love and support I needed. And some good advice. Thank you all so much.
The heft of this advice was to take better care of myself in order to care for my children and give myself a break. Good ideas that we moms have trouble implementing. But so crucial.

One piece of advice was quite profound:

Burn The List.

Lose the list of difficulties I've/we've faced this last year. Abandon the burden of how hard things have been. Write it down one last time and BURN IT.

Stop craving compensation for all that has gone "wrong" and unburden myself of the anger, the pain, the guilt and sadness that I am carrying.

What a fantastic idea.

My life has many more moments for "hallelujah" than it does "aw, crap". I have so much to be thankful for and if I could let go of The List I would surely be more free to enjoy these things.

Like my little girl.


And this awesome ice cream truck that Laila LOVES. The most menacing ice cream I've ever seen, and it was playing "O Come All Ye Faithful" and "We Wish You A Merry Christmas".


Hot afternoons of summer = necessarily creative indoor play. Here are some of our favorites:

Bubbles and water and kitchen things like measuring cups and spoons


An open suitcase became a bed, a house, a car, a bus, a hide-away...


A place to read books...


And of course there's always simple yoga poses like this to pass the time.

They never get tired of mixing things together with water. Here it's flour and water.

And here they are mixing beans, lentils, flour and water.

We walk in the wadi when we get out early enough:
Baby olives ripening. Olive trees are EVERYwhere here and they are so beautiful. Very sturdy, ancient looking trees.


Under the olive tree.



another JUMP!


"I'm a lidda' girl" she says.


"It contains the basic needed items of food..."

I made an attempt to remedy my constant craving for thick, moist loaves of German bread. If there was ever a time for comfort food, this is surely it.
My first ever loaf of real bread -Bauernbrot.

burnout

Let's talk mommy burnout for a moment. Let's talk depression.

In a really low moment 2 days ago I locked myself away in my room and cried after just totally dropping the ball in a difficult moment with my kids. Faris came home---because I called him home because I was totally lost and crushed and because my good sense had flown out the window. I hit the mommy burnout wall. Hard. Like while I was running one direction looking the other direction. SMACK.

While locked in my room I did the second most pathetic thing I could have done (the first being buy a plane ticket for home. Just one plane ticket for home). I googled "isolated stay at home mom breaking point depression". *Ahem*.

Isolated Stay At Home Mom Breaking Point Depression

The google search returned an article from a blog called "The Honest Mommy", and I really think the article saved me. It was like a little reality check, and a divine intervention. I encourage you to read it right away. It is well written and to the point.

Holy crap if I have to make one more dinner that my kids refuse to eat...if I have to close the blinds to pretend it's dark outside and miss one more beautiful sunset...if I have to hear the song "Hello Everybody so glad to see you!" one more time instead of Fugazi "Waiting Room"...if I have to spend one more day listening to my own voice say things like, "No feeding your sister beads" or "Please don't lick the wall" or "NO SITTING ON FACES!" or "Put your underwear back on please so we can get in the car and go to the moon" I really will lose my mind.

But is it burn out or is it depression? My friend L reminds me that there are good solid reasons behind the way I am feeling. The article reminded me that my mood does indeed respond to "cheering up" and my head space improves considerably when I get a chance to either get out of the house by myself or have a good yoga practice. Sometimes just a phone call from a friend and a good cup of coffee are all it takes to do me a world of good.

But I have had a lot happen in the last year and a half. Looking back, I don't wonder at all how it has come to this moment of me calling Faris home from work and locking myself away to cry and reach out to the internet (!!!) for help (because basically everyone I know is sleeping in another time zone when my world falls apart in this time zone).

Here is a brief synopsis:

#1 The birth of a second child.

#2

Mourning the loss of my exclusive relationship with my first child. Being unable to say goodbye or let go is a special difficulty for me. I mourned this loss preemptively, and I mourned it after my second child was born. It was hard to talk about this pain, since everyone wanted to know how much joy I was feeling and also because the immediate thought is that it effected how much love I felt for my new baby. All I can tell you is that Laila had GERD, and everything that came after is a blur of sleep dep and painful realities where there should have been honeymoons and cooing and falling in love as a family. But we made it through and I love Laila with a love that is so deep and wide I cannot begin to explain it. And thank god for my midwife (JULIA BOWER) who truly saw me in this moment of pain, and who really heard me as no one else could and who gave me good advice, good homeopathy (pulsatilla of course), and lots of loving but firm support.

#3

Baby with intense reflux (GERD) who screamed day and night for 11 months straight and who never got comfortable enough to be cuddled or even rest her head on me for more than 5 seconds. And who I wanted to love and hold and cherish so badly that my very skin and hands and bones actually ached for her. But she was in too much pain to let us have any moments of stillness.

#4

Suddenly selling the home that I adored and that I gave birth to my 2 children in. I left part of my heart in that house as maybe most people do when they leave their first real home. Then moving with GERD 4 month old and stunned 2 year old in tow, to a house we disliked. Then being forced out of that house after 6 months by the landlord wanting to move "home" (SURPRISE!), a move to another house for 8 weeks (thank GOD for my friend Eileen), and then moving to a foreign land---exciting? YES. But there are also some other adjectives that apply.

#5

Seeing daily the occupation in Palestine. This cannot be summed up in this blog post. It's too huge.

#6

Isolation. What is the sound of one hand clapping? I bet it is about as useful and empty as the sound of one adult talking--to 2 small children and herself all day long, every day, for 5 months now with very little exception.

I didn't know how hard any of this would be when I signed up for the job of SAHM. The following lyrics have been in my head a lot these last 5 months: "Nobody ever asked me if I thought I could be everything to someone."

Ramat Gan, Israel

Picture this: you are enjoying time with your kids on a crowded playground when suddenly you look up to see the friendly crowd around you has been quietly moving away from you. Something has changed. The happy faces have turned to blanks. Instead of that smile of recognition of common "mom" purpose, other moms are now eyeing you suspiciously. Kids are whispering, hanging back. As a friend put it, "It's like that moment at the bar when you realize everyone else is just a little too drunk". This could go either way.

We went to an Israeli playground in Ramat Gan. I don't want to exaggerate the experience because after all, nothing actually happened. Most of what went on was like an undercurrent, so it had a big impact on a mental/emotional level, but technically everything was just fine.

The weeks before the trip to Israel were difficult. Some of those weeks I wished I could pack up and go. I have been housebound A LOT. The playgroup failed and I canceled it, the friends I've made have gone home for their summers, the house was disorganized, the kids were both going through something that made them grumpy, I had aggravated a back injury...anyway, rough weeks. I reached out to a woman here whom I had met only twice but who I like a lot. She is one of those people who always has a solution and she's very confident about it. She also has 2 kids the same ages as my 2. She is palestinian with a Jerusalem ID which means she retains the right to enter Israel as a Palestinian by maintaining a Jerusalem address and paying taxes there (more on that later). She has recently moved back to Ramallah from abroad and she has a similar perspective to mine on how difficult things are here for young kids.

She says that going to Jerusalem to partake of the clean, modern amenities (like green grass, water, excellent playscapes, zoos, clean food, kiddie museums, good healthcare) is the way she gets by. In her words, there is nothing for kids inRamallah, "it's all crap."

But to get to Jerusalem you have to have a yellow plated car and if you are stopped you'd better have the right stamp in your passport. I currently have this and she has the yellow plated car of a Jerusalemite. At her insistence, following a tearful and desperate phone call from me in which she correctly diagnosed me as depressed and in need of some new ideas, I was convinced to go with her to a playground in Jerusalem. I have been rather desperate.

But I knew it would not be easy, and it is the desperation that won me over.

We had to cram into her car as mine is not permitted in Israel. That meant Sufyan rear-facing in a toddler seat in the FRONT SEAT of her Jeep. Her 2 kids were in their seats in the back, and Laila was IN MY LAP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BACK SEAT. We didn't even have a seatbelt. I told you I have been desperate. Nothing but sheer exhaustion of other options could have put us in this situation. But before you forgive me, let me tell you about the roads: small, windy, unkempt until Israel where they become fast highways of aggressive drivers. No, no excusing me.

We made it to the park. It was an incredible park and play area. Ducks, waterscapes, greenery, a restaurant and snack bar, acres of play space. Women were wearing what they wear in America: tank tops, shorts, tattoos. I haven't seen that much skin in 5 months! Not a hijab in sight (just to set the scene, I've no problem with hijab and actually think they are pretty most of the time). We got to the actual playground and I am not exaggerating to say it seemed space age to me. There was a recycling bin out front. RECYCLING, people. I was thrilled! The playground was permanently tarped from inclement weather and sun. It was very safe, very clean, and very full of happy kids. Here is a picture:

(Laila can keep up with the big boys on the trampoline)

We had so much fun despite the heat and despite the fact that I was nervous being surrounded by a hostile country. It turned out that as long as they assumed I was American, I was fine. Kids came up to us, shared toys with us (notably there were about 3 Plasma Cars and 5 SuperMopis. Rich kid toys--not Ramallah toys).

(awesome swings)

But when people got the idea where we were from they got visibly uncomfortable right away. They stood back, moved away like we smelled bad. They literally moved away from us. A man handed out treats to some kids, but not Sufyan who DID notice and was asking me why he couldn't have one (well, that actually was fine with me. Candy from a stranger, after all.)

After meeting a lot of eyes and some of them not at all friendly, we decided to leave. It was getting late anyway.

The park is so big that we got lost trying to find the exit. By the time it was time to go, my friend's child wasn't feeling well and the poor kid was refusing to walk. We didn't have a stroller, so we were up a creek because we each had our hands full of our 18 month olds. We had to ask for directions, and some people refused to give us directions even though we were in an obviously bad predicament. They sort of looked through us when we tried to stop them. We were walking with heavy diaper bags, carrying 1 baby each and each with a toddler in tow (1 who was toddler who was collapsing into a heap on the ground every 2 steps due to illness). It was a bit of a fiasco and surely it was obvious we were in need of help. One man did stop and at first he was reservedly friendly. But it was odd: the longer he talked, the more his face changed. He gave us shorter, ruder answers. And then he just walked away mid explanation. It seemed as though he sort of placed us as he talked to us, finally knowing we were from the "other side" and once he knew he got a sour expression and just ditched.

Eventually out of options and still towing kids who were less and less agreeable, we split up and I literally ran through the park with Laila while Sufyan stayed behind with my friend and her 2 kids. I found her car, then I found a pizza delivery guy with english enough to tell me how to find my way to the other end of the park where I could pick up the rest of my expedition. I put Laila in the front car seat and drove off onto strange roads with signage all in Hebrew...I luckily am good with directions because I know exactly zero Hebrew. oh, and I cannot legally drive in Israel...

While I was getting the car an old man sat down to flirt with my friend (who is, did I mention, beautiful). He stayed until he found out she was Palestinian. Then he got up and left.

Now, I know none of this is a shock. Palestine and Israel are not happy neighbors. There is a lot of hatred on both sides. Of course people moved away. Of course there is suspicion. Of course we were treated like untouchables. Its just that I had my kids with me. My babies. And I am not a bad person. Nor do I smell bad. Nor did I come to Israel for any other reason than a day out with my kids and old fashioned curiosity. Have you ever seen Ramat Gan?

But while this experience is old hat for some, I have never felt like this before. Wanting to hide my identity yet feeling compelled to stand in opposition to the racism and fear. Playing with my children should feel and be innocent enough, yet I had to shield them from the strangers who hated them just knowing they were Palestinian.

It felt awful. I wanted a day out for my kids (who mostly loved it, by the way.) I wanted them to have a day without trash and broken things.

I was so relieved to return to Palestine! I literally breathed a deep sigh of relief when we crossed the line under the yellow sign in Hebrew announcing that we were entering Palestinian territory.

(sunset over Tel Aviv as we drive home)

I was happy to see the pot holes, the mangy cats, the donkeys roaming the streets, the kids up way past bedtime playing near the street, the old women in their traditional garb carrying parcels on their heads, the insane traffic with no rules....what a relief to be "home".

And no surprise, Laila (who nursed constantly on the car ride and certainly knew I was stressed out by the trip) took her time to fully decompress from the strange experience. She was acting very upset and easily put off balance for the 2 days after.

It didn't help that we actually got lost INSIDE the 2nd largest Israeli settlement

(called Ma'ale Adumim here is a pic I took)

on the way home and had to ask a police officer for directions out of the damn place.