Imagine coming back from a tiring, disastrous day at work. All you can think about is how you will eat that last piece of cake, snuggled up in bed with Netflix when you receive a text.
The truth hit me like a tumbling ton of bricks where pretty pink stars were rotating around my head. The whole realization of this humongous task dawned upon me. It was literally in my hands (since my baby was trying to jump on me and I was holding him) to make or break my future generations.
It’s actually funny how you can see the husbands become kids at this point. I mean even my five year old is better behaved than the Army Guy at that point. The whole process of planning and “taking permission” is time consuming and has to be executed at the precise date and time.
I remember Abu waking me up early with his loud jokes and sloppy kisses yelling “Eid Mubarak”. The getting ready, using the limited mother approved, lipsticks and glosses and picking the perfect accessories.
I sit up and stretch my arms, looking over the bluest of blue oceans. What a nap! As I look over the pearly white beach, I see a familiar face.
It was a beautiful time. From bunking classes to being chased by teachers, from endless laughter to countless memories, I am glad that I have you all.
I was very young when I got married. At the dire age of just twenty one, when the girls my age were studying, planning careers and getting their passports stamped, I was dreaming of companionship and walks in the rain.
If you open our tool box it is meager to the point of being humorous. Trust me I have seen geniuses at work (A girl married into a Punjabi family…it’s an eye opener…again no offense). I was shocked to see that this trade requires no tools at all!
Sometimes, words are not required. The eyes speak.
Often during taking showers when your kid is banging the door down, or when you are working and your kid wants to tell you about his day or when you finally sit down to eat after settling the husband the kid wants to poop; you want time off, you need time off.