When Friends Leave Qatar

If you have lived in or visited Qatar, you will understand how tedious traffic gets. But what's more tiresome are the lights—ah yes, the lights that never turn green. They stay red for an eternity. Now, you can sit at the traffic lights and feel the deep dark cloud of misery or, like me, use this time to reflect. 

I usually take those seemingly never-ending minutes and make mental lists. Groceries—have I forgotten anything? Milk? Fruit? Chores—laundry, clean uniforms for the kids, dry cleaning, etc. Will they have apples or blueberries in their lunch bags? Both? The lists are endless. 

However, today was somehow different. As soon as I put on the brakes at the stop light, I was overwhelmed. My eyes filled up, I couldn't contain myself, and a continuous stream of tears started pouring out. 

What just happened to me!? I'm crying over traffic! Seriously? 

Then it hit me—hard like a slap in the face. My friends were leaving Qatar. As an expat, you get used to people coming and going, and you make it a point not to get emotionally attached, but you are only human. And oh boy, do you get attached. You get attached like super glue. 

Friends abroad become your family, your support system and you depend on them for every type of help. They are your shoulder to cry on, the emergency contact at school for your kids, your everything. 

But, you are used to this right? 

This time it was much more different. Not one. Not two. Not three, but four close friends were all leaving at the same time. How could they! How could they possibly leave without discussing this with me? Do I not get a say? Have I not invested time, love and energy in this relationship? I was heartbroken. 

The tears continued flowing out. How will I survive? How do I do this every year? 

I tell myself every year not to get attached, not to get emotional, but in a world where we depend on each other, this process gets harder every year. 

Friends, near and far you are always with me. 

The Perfect Mum

Who is she? What does she look like? Is she the perfectly coiffed mum in nine-inch heels wearing a bucket of makeup? Surely not; she's spent too long getting herself ready and forgot to spend time with her child. 

It must be the mum who has just dropped off her child wearing pyjamas and forgot to brush her hair. Oh my no! She has spent too much time with her child and has neglected herself!

Hmm, what about the one whose child is screaming in the grocery store? Clearly, she's set no boundaries, and the child is probably ruling her. 

I've got it! The perfect mum must be the one whose child is walking a strict arms-length away and is too afraid to breathe without permission. Clearly there are some underlining issues there. 

Do her kids eat junk food? Daily? Occasionally? They must not have been breastfed. No way would a child who was breastfed be seen anywhere near a hot dog or heaven forbid candy!

Then again if they were breastfed, did mum look deeply into the soul of her child and send out love vibes? Or was she too busy catching up on her latest soap on Netflix? (That reminds me, what's new on Netflix?) 

Who is the perfect mum? What is perfect? Mums judge each other. Teachers judge mothers. For goodness sakes, even the neighbourhood dog judges mothers.

How do you decide how to be the perfect mum? What seems right for you may be wrong for another. This is where culture, religion, origin plays a big role. All these factors affect your day-to-date life and relationship with your children. More importantly, as we travel, we see, we learn, and we experience the differences. We become a mix. We even marry from outside our faith, culture, race and country.

How do we decide which culture, religion, country, etc., produces the best mum? Which values are the best? Philosophers, psychologists and more have spent their lives studying this subject and are still conflicted in their opinions. 

For me the answer is love. Love conquers all!

Take each day as it comes and kiss your child every day.

Where Are the Free Babysitters?

Families are great: they help out financially and emotionally, they are an overall support system and, most importantly, they are free babysitters.
So what happens when you have moved away from them? At first, you think, no problem, I can set rules for my children, and no one is around to break them. I am solely in charge of what they eat, when they sleep, which toothpaste they will use and so forth. No problem! Right?

Well, that’s all great, but when you arrive in your new home, your new country and you need to unpack the truck full of boxes you waited weeks to arrive, who’s around to help look after the children?

You haven’t met anyone yet that you are comfortable with to call on for such a task. You’ve met some lovely mums, but they have their own settling-in battles to deal with. What about that first cup of coffee you make to reward yourself for unpacking? Nope, no family is around to pop over, and unfortunately playing tea with your toddler just doesn’t have the same gratification, even if you do put real milk in the tiny pink teapot.

Once you are fully unpacked (well I use the word fully very loosely), had your coffee, and are ready to explore the new world, you want to call “home” to share this important moment, but the time difference gets in the way, and you just have to wait.

Months pass, you have settled in, children are in nursery and school, and you decide to go to work. Easy. You schedule the interviews during school hours. No problem. You get the job. It’s part time. Life is perfect. You can drop off and pick the kids up and not worry if they made it safely or not. Fabulous victory moment for super mum, working mum, overall happy mum, life is great!

Hold on a minute, hold your horses, what happens during school holidays?! Yikes! Grandparents are not around to look after them, so where are the free babysitters? Where are the only people in the world you would trust your children with? Even if they would feed them chocolate all day until they had a stomach ache and then blame you for not setting boundaries. Then panic sets in. What do other working mums do? How are all these mums working?
A little research and I find that they go to camps, which sounds interesting. A little research later and I find that my children are in different age brackets and cannot go to the same camps. No problem,  time for Plan B: hire a nanny (although, to me, this doesn’t seem ideal). Then I find out that the nanny needs sponsorship, needs a room in your home, needs this, needs that and the cost appears to grow and grow and grow. So time fo Plan C. But I have no Plan C. Where are my free babysitters? Where are the grandparents? Job? Family? This mummy must put her career on hold.

On the positive side, I will spend more time with the children, attend all school assemblies, watch them grow and be the one to comfort them when they are under the weather. This mummy can do a little victory cheer.

See the article on the Doha Family Guide

Today Is My Day

Today is my day. I will stay in bed because I’m taking the day off. I will not go to work. I will not wake the kids. I will not dress them. I will not make sure their teeth are brushed, hair combed, breakfast eaten and I will certainly not take them to school.

Today I’m taking the day off from doing the laundry, making sure the PE kit is ready, getting the whatever costume complete, preparing the poster for this month’s topic and any other school commitment I never really wanted to be involved with.

Today I’m taking the day off from cooking. I will not make their packed lunches. I will not make the sugar-free, dairy-free, gluten-free, taste-free treats for the kids’ play date. I will not make five different dinners because one eats only chicken, the other only cucumbers and goodness knows what else they decided not to eat or start eating this week.

Today I’m taking the day off from driving around the whole country to buy groceries from the supermarket. I will not drive to the other supermarket to buy organic fruit. I will not drive to the only dry cleaners I trust. I will not drive my kids to their after-school activities. I will not get stuck in traffic and listen to the kids fight about which song to listen to.

Today I’m taking the day off. But if I stay in bed, I will miss my morning kisses and cuddles. If I take the day off, I will miss hearing how tasty my food was. If I take the day off I will not see my kids in their costumes looking super cute. If I take the day off, I will not see my son score his first goal and feel proud. If I take the day off, I will miss every minute of what a mother is all about—LOVE!

I cannot take the day off, it’s Mother’s Day! It’s my day to be proud of my accomplishments, my children, my joy, my life and what makes me unique. 

Today and every day must be grabbed with both hands to marvel at the beautiful children I have raised. Today is my day; today is Mother’s Day. Happy mother’s day to all the beautiful mums. It’s a hard job, but the kisses, cuddles and snuggles make it worth every second.

Full article can be view: Dohafamily

A case of the "won'ts"

My child won't...

I hear this all the time. “My child won't eat vegetables.” “My child won't eat fruits.” “My child hates meat.” “My child won't wear dresses.” “My child won't...”

Yet when you dig a little deeper, you find out that dad never eats vegetables or fruit. Mum cannot stand the smell of meat being cooked and makes a face every time it's being prepared. 

How do you expect your child not to have any issues or quirks when you have so many?

To continue reading please click: http://www.dohafamily.com/Doha-Family-Blog/A-case-of-the-wonts/

Face freeze

In London, you can feel the weather change. The wind picks up, the leaves change colour and you unpack all your winter clothes. A few weeks later your face has a permanent face freeze from the cold weather—the “chill factor” as it is most commonly called.

Ah, yes. The difference in temperature can be felt throughout your body all the way to your bones. You have this fake smile on your face, not because you are a snob or because you are a super happy person. You have this face because it is simply frozen that way. Once you enter a restaurant you slowly begin to melt and your face takes back its normal position. You can then start to peel off the mountains of clothes you have on, as the restaurant is so overheated you think you are in a sauna. Once you have feelings in your own fingers, you suddenly remember you have a child. You look down at this poor little innocent face that is now tomato red from being overheated.

To continue please visit: http://www.dohafamily.com/Doha-Family-Blog/Face-freeze/

The little things in life

Living in England for over 20 years you get used to “popping out” to the shops to get milk and whatever else you may need. You strap a child into the pram, the other on a scooter/ bike, whatever mode of transport was age-appropriate, and the whole trip takes an hour or two.

An hour or two, not because the shop is far away, but because it takes you 20 minutes to wrestle two children into coats, gloves, scarves and hats while you start to sweat. Oh and suddenly the left boot goes missing as if little elves stole them at night, because you are 100 per cent positive you put them both by the door yesterday.

To continue reading...

http://www.dohafamily.com/Doha-Family-Blog/The-little-things-in-life/

Journey to health

Journey to health started when my first child was ready for weaning. I thought it was my duty as a mother to feed him the best food for his little growing body.

I spent 7+ months (he arrive a little early) not drinking alcohol, stayed away from shellfish, peanuts, caffeine, raw eggs, anything raw including sushi and whatever else you shouldn’t eat while pregnant. So now I had to feed him, I should continue on the right journey right?

So I bought this little contraption which steams the veg/ fruit to the perfect nanosecond to keep the nutrients and did magic apparently. Everything was labelled beautifully and bless him he ate it all. Feeding was a little messy, but he love it. 

Yipee! I did it! I’m Supermum!

However, the real world makes it’s appearance, meeting friends who offer your baby a chip, chocolate and all the food you said you would not feed them before they are three. You smile and explain your healthy goal, they apologize, feed awkward and move on.

Right easy, friends understand your mission in life, they think you are bizarre, but still love you anyway. Then it happens, your mother, father and in-laws interfere, in my day we use to bla bla bla. You explain yourself again and it’s absolutely disregarded. They feed your child in secret and you have lost them to the dark side. Now it’s your turn to smile, feel awkward and move on.

Fast forward a few years, you move across the world to a new country, settle in (took many years) and finally have the confidence, courage and will power to start or continue the journey to health.

Supermum powers are back and restored! Apart from when the family comes for a visit and you turn a blind eye, actually you turn your whole head away and breathe. It’s not forever, they are here for a visit, they are leaving soon, breathe, breathe, BREATHE! 

Mama

You are walking down the street and you hear a sweet angel voice calling out "mama", you turn to see the cutest little girl running towards her mum, they are both smiling, she reaches out and grabs her mum's hand and they start walking away, onwards with their journey.
You think wow! How amazing I cannot wait to have a little child and walk down the street holding hands. This thought stays with you all day.

You then get pregnant, it's horrible, you hate every uncomfortable minute. You waddle and dream of the days you could walk properly like a human and not a duck. 
You do not glow, nope it's sweat and it never stops. It's snowing outside, yet you walk down the street in a t-shirt sweating while everyone thinks you are mad. You sleep half naked with the windows open, you look over at your husband who is wrapped up from head to toe in thick pyjamas, blankets and shivering. The only thought running through your head is, how on earth is he sleeping in this heat?

Other mums with new-borns look at you and smile, they know, they understand what you are going through. There is an unspoken vibe that says "you're not mad, you're pregnant, it's OK, you're nearly there". You give a smile back, but you secretly hate them for not being pregnant anymore.

The day comes you have your little miracle and you introduce yourself as "mama", you spend the next year saying mama to this child hoping that you will hear it back.
Then it happens as if by magic, your little mini me finally utters this magical word you have been waiting for! You scream for joy and you remember the little girl walking down the street calling out for her mama. Life is wonderful!

Fast forward five years and shivers run down your spine when you hear "mama", you are called every other minute for some random reason. 
You now think to yourself call daddy PLEASE!

The waiting game

As I previous mentioned, we moved to a new country. Now in my head I was moving to the perfect new home which my husband found for us and I had only seen on WhatsApp. Now in my head it looked completely different than reality, but hey we are not bound here for life so for now it will do nicely.

I had to turn this house into a home, we had all the furniture any family needs as it was already furnished. I use the word furnished very loosely as we were kindly provided with a set of bright orange sofas which were great if you wore sunglasses all the time and were as comfortable as sitting on planks of wood. We knew we would be changing all the furniture. I say we, but really mean me. The big question was when! Again in my head I had redecorated the whole house in an hour, imagined where everything would go, where paintings would be hung and how the smell of freshly baked cookies would fill the air and we would all be living in perfect harmony. Cue the music!

Hahahaha, it was all in my head. The reality was I couldn’t go shopping around all the shops as I had no car, public transport is not an option and the taxi companies I would call would not show up at all as I had no clue where I lived or how to direct them. I lived in the desert, surrounded by dust, the kind that needs to be mopped and wiped five times a day and still you house is dusty. Uber did not exist yet! When I made my husband call the taxi company to come pick me up they took between 45 minutes to two hours. That’s not a great gap when you have to have two children to get ready.

My children learned the waiting game, they waited, I waited, we waited and waited and waited. We learned to wait for the taxi, we learned that the traffic lights take forever to turn green, we learned that our cargo takes forever to arrive and we learned that the day takes forever to end. We also waited for daddy to arrive home to relieve us from the boredom of the day. My greeting could have been, “oh darling! You are home, we made cookies for you and life is so wonderful”, instead it was “oh thank goodness you are home, please give them their bath because if I do it, I will drown them!”

After an eternity, my wait was finally over! We rented a car, our cargo arrived, I found a cute little nursery to take my two year old in for three mornings a week, my life could finally begin and we could start our new life! The waiting game was worth it as it made me appreciate all the little things in life…

Scary little something

What a morning! I had arrived in our new home after an eight hour flight, no wait 10 hour flight (delays obviously) with two children one was five days short of her second birthday and the second was just four. They of course did not sleep even for five minutes! I had to take both kids with me to the tiniest airplane loos in the world as no one offered to mind one, I couldn't ask as I am supermum and supermums never ask for help, but if offered we would take it before your sentence was over.

So we landed safely, waited an eternity for security and bags, but it was all worth it because the children could once again be reunited with their dad, yipee!
However, the drama wasn't over, my little nearly two year old saw her daddy and ran as fast as her little legs could take her to hug, hold and kiss him again. Yes we all saw it coming like in slow motion and we couldn't stop her, the glass partitioning didn't open and she went crashing into the glass door. Oh the tears, the screams, but daddy was able to get to her and comfort his little baby.

We finally make it home, kids in bed and shortly after so am I due to pure exhaustion.

Morning comes, everyone is excited exploring our new home. Then it happened the most terrifying monstrosity I had ever seen!
It was huge, it was fast, it had legs, antennas, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh a cockroach!

Wait a minute, I am supermum, I must protect my children from danger, but how? I was in a new place and had no defence, no strategy, apart from my slippers. I placed the kids away from danger and I move in for the kill, OK so I got it on my second try, but hey I did!

The rest of the day was spent playing, colouring and doing what children do.

Kids were finally in bed and that was my cue to go for a much needed shower. FINALLY I sighed when I feel the water spray all over my hair, I run my fingers through with a huge smile which immediately turns into disgust.

There was something in my hair! Something pointy! Something sticky! I couldn't scream as I would wake the kids, what do I do? Stay calm! Stay focused! You are supermum and just killed the mummy cockroach this morning, you can handle this, even if it's in your hair! Deep breath... Eyes closed I reach for this creature in my hair, I hold on to it, open my eyes and slowly open my hand to reveal a small glittery sticker.

A huge smile takes over my face and once again I have proven to myself that I can conquer the world!

Now the waiting game...

Domestic Goddess

Here it is I'm not super healthy, I'm not unhealthy, I'm not the best mum in the world nor the worst. I'm definitely not the best at spelling or grammar so you are warned... But I'm the best at giving things a go.

My journey started when I got married and realised I could not cook to save my life. I could buy ready meals, heat them in the microwave or oven and lay them beautifully on a plate and serve.

There are so many meals you can heat up and it gets boring. So I started to cook and yes I did it! Pasta with olive oil was my masterpiece, it was easy, quick and tasty I thought, that is until the look on my husband's face and when he innocently ask where the sauce was.

I died! Literally died! I spend a good twenty minutes preparing this meal, I responded with, there is cheese and smiled.

This continued... My poor husband had to endure some interesting meals, his friends had to smile while eating my "delicious meals", as they say practice makes perfect.

By the end of my first year of marriage I was still heating meals, but I could actually cook some too and even make Christmas dinner including the turkey. I had become a domestic Goddess!

Now to conquer the scary little something...