A mama moment

I went to preschool with my kid at 10.30 am. I left at 11.00 pm. In the space of 30 minutes my confidence in myself as a good mom, and in my kid as a normal healthy happy baby was ripped to shreds. 

I came home convinced that my kid was a naughty, restless, stupid child and that I had let him turn into a hooligan. All the other kids were talking, colouring, interacting with the teachers while my wild child was ignoring everyone and hiding in my lap. Yes, he doesn't speak much, barring a few words. Yes he doesn't know how to colour, he likes reading instead. Yes he ignores the teachers, and if I'm not in the room, he howls. Yes, he is the one who 'hasn't settled yet'. 

I came home depressed, angry and took it out on my son who had no idea what he had done wrong. There were slaps and tears. I was pissed off at everyone and myself the most. 

Then my mama called me. 

She told me that two of my sisters had trouble adjusting as well. That being a mother, there will be times when my child will be judged by others, and that I have to be the one helping him stand, not knocking him down because of my insecurity of 'what will people think'. She said that my son is a normal, healthy, happy baby and at I should never doubt him or myself. She told me my son is a blessing from God, since my hubs and I thought we couldnt have kids. She told me I'm a good mother. 

I needed to hear that so much. And when it comes from a woman who has raised four daughters, and three grandchildren. Who has raised me. She is the best of me. If I am half the mother my mama is, I will be happy. 

Love you mama. 

Karachis yummy mummies (or how we never EVER leave high school)

I went and blew up Rs 5000 in Mango yesterday. With the current devaluation of the Pakistani rupee, that's like around 50 dollars. 50 dollars for a t shirt and tights. Is the tshirt punk and awesome? Oh good God yes. Are the tights cool? Duh. What gets my goat is that I didn't buy it because I wanted to, I bought the clothes so I wouldn't look like a maasi (Urdu word for maid) at my kid's preschool.

In Karachi, darlings, when one sends ones kids off to school, one must dress, y'know, to show all the other families that we come from a 'khata-peeta khandann' (literal translation being an eating and drinking household, which usually implies a decent upper middle class family with tons of dough and connections). No slouching through the gates in your pjs, bloodshot eyes begging the teacher to take your kid off you ASAP so you can go drown yourself in the nearest vat of coffee. Everyone comes with blow dried hair, crisp ironed shalwar kameez or sexy sultry gym gear, matching chapals (sandals), huge ass bag and damn me if their iPhone doesn't have a matching cover to go with the ensemble. 

In stark contrast, I went to preschool with my toddler in tow while wearing cropped black culottes, a t shirt which had a cat smoking a cigarette on the front, white slippers, and a ragtag Thai shoulder bag. Go me! And yea it wasn't the whole hippy I'm-so-above-this-and-therefore-awesome thing going on, it was the the-hell-with-this-my-brain-needs-caffeine attitude. First impressions: I don't even want to think about it. 

It felt remarkably like the first day in high school (0 and A levels). All the cool girls lounging around with their designer glasses perched perkily on their heads, either chatting away with their BFFs (how lucky that their kids go to school together so they can hang out with each other and not other, less desirable kids), or languidly typing away at their phones, planning their brunches at Xanders and Espresso while the kids are in school. Then there were the mummies who were frazzled beyond belief with other children waiting to be dropped and/or picked up, the women who were brisk and to the point. No casual chit chat for these women, their minds were already focused on the next item in their  never-ending to-do list. Finally, the mummies who were just coming out of new mummy exile, the exile where your new baby is the center of your life, but at the same time makes you very much aware that thanks to the little one, you don't have a life anyway. Those mummies who are excited about the free time they will have after their little ones go to school, but at the same time are so scared for their kids that free time is mostly spent biting nails and debating whether calling up auntie whoever for the fifteenth time to ensure their little ludoo is ok is overkill. Yes it is. And yes, I do it too.

So getting back to the point. Perhaps it's the uber cool preschool my kid is in which is causing this sudden rash of insecurity. Perhaps, its the insecurities of the geeky me i though i had left in high school. Why should I care whether or not I'm dressed in the appropriate manner. As long as I'm decent and not vulgar and as long as my kid is dressed neatly, it should be absolutely fine. Unfortunately, it isn't.

This is Defence, Karachi. Where appearances and the done thing is sacrament. One is always presentable, and trained to the social niceties from the age of 1. Where who you hang out with and who you are is more important than your character. Do I care whether im a social pariah? Not really. I've been myself and that's what's important. However, it does affect my kid. It's shallow and hateful and really really insecure of me, but I don't want my son to be affected because his lazy mama couldn't be bothered to go and hang with the other mummies. No play dates, no invitations to parties equals one very lonely kid. And that will not do. Not at all.

Hence the shopping at Mango, I don't want him to be lonely coz his peers' mummies think I'm not good enough, and therefore my kid isn't good enough. Beat them? Not likely. Join them? I can't compete on their level. Decently dressed friendly acquaintance? Perhaps. Time to play kissy face with the yummiest mummies of Karachi. 

Before and after whore.

I am a before and after slut. 

Ok, that sounded so.....nasty. And stupid? 

Anyhoos, love it, love it, love it. I love the whole concept of it. Whether it be about losing weight, getting a makeover, getting a life, getting the most fuck-awesome living space or, on a less ditzy note, getting out of the rut and becoming awesome, I love it all. It gives you hope that there is something which can be done to improve anything, anyone, and anywhere. 

What not to wear? Awesome. Tim Gunns show about makeovers? Delicious. All those interior design shows where they rip apart a boring blah house/room/apartment/car/caravan and make it unbefuckinglievable? I'm there, I'm sooooo there. 

So why is it that we can't do it ourselves. We get off on seeing these amazing transformations, whether in a show, a movie, a book and we lap it up, but when it comes time to do it in real life, it's seems so bloody difficult, nay, impossible to do so. 

The easiest answer would be that in real life, with real people problems, just getting through the day is tough enough, let alone trying to improve it. That's an easy and stupid way out. What's the point of your life if all you're doing is just existing. I've been there, and I still am. I whine and complain and compare my life, my appearance, my clothes, my job to everyone else's, but I can't be bothered to actually do something about it. 

Well, fuck that. 

I'm going to do it. I'm going to do that damned Arabic course which I've been talking about for YEARS and never did shit all about. I'm ordering the damn bed so that I can stop complaining about our current one. I'm going to bloody well get my facial hair removed before people think my sons monkey is coming to pick him up from nursery. 

Ok, that last bit was something which didn't need to be said. 

Wish me luck. 

A tale of haleem

I get it. You want to lose weight. Hell. Been there done that, even have a defunct blog about it. I was a teeny tiny 54 kg when I got hitched. My honeymoon photos are simultaneously the joy and bane of my existence. People don't recognise me from my photos, I was THAT thin. Of course I am embarrassed beyond belief and somewhat (make that completely) humiliated, but I rejoice in the fact that I was and therefore theoretically can be that thin. Now whether I am going to get off my lazyass and do something about it remains to be seen. 

So I get it when one wants to lose weight and become all fit and fine. Hell, I wish hubs would get on that band wagon. But for the love of God, don't shove it in everyone's face yaar. Not to mention, don't make it everyone's concern either. You're the one on a diet, not us! 

Yesterday we all troop down for iftari. You know, the opening of a Muslim's fast. On an unrelated note, before 9/11 no one had a clue about Islam and now everyone is an expert. Anyhoos, we all drag our asses to the dining table when lo! What is that we see? A TUREEN full of Haleem. What is Haleem, you might wonder? Fear not, I shall enlighten thee. Haleem is a stew made from chicken (or beef) with lots of lentils. Please note that stew implies something to be devoured in winter when one is cold and in need of comfort food and not in 40-50 degree Celsius weather when everyone is trying to make love to an air conditioner. 

Now no one is a fan of haleem in the house saving myself and the FIL. Hubs can't stand it, and BIL will eat it only if its the sole item on the table. Need I mention that hubs is sick with the cold and is highly irritated (and irritating)? Plus, see note above re the weather. 

Why was said haleem made? Beloved darling SIL is on her umpteenth diet of her life. That girl takes losing weight seriously. First she almost fainted losing weight before her wedding. Total starvation plus rigorous exercise. After said wedding she went from gym to dance studio, from no carbs to only fruits. It's exhausting, and somewhat irritating. I'm jealous of her will power. In fasts she is going for gym visits and power walks. My activities involve watching BBC lifestyle and re-reading nigella lawson recipe books. 

So, getting back to the story. SIL is on a fruit and protein diet so she told the cook to make haleem for her for the next four days. Either she didn't make herself clear or the cook wasn't paying attention but what was supposed to be four meals of haleem for her turned into four meals of haleem for all of us. Now, I like my haleem but please! There's a limit. Hubs is pissed off as he could only eat pakoras and chaat. I didn't have the haleem because its flipping hot. BIL didn't touch it coz he ate chaat instead. SIL had a bowl. 

A SINGLE BOWL. 

So, yea. You want to diet, be my guest. Just don't inflict it on the rest of us. 

Is it odd that I want a bowl of haleem after writing this blogpost? 

The horror of it all

I absolutely can't stand horror. As a genre, it makes no sense whatsoever. Why would you want to be scared shitless? Aren't there enough real things to worry about, rather than have authors, producers, directors come up with new and novel ways to cause insomnia? I was 9 when Jaws came out. That night I couldn't sleep because I thought my bed was a raft and there was a hugeass fin circling it. I couldn't shower, people! At the time we were living in Dubai, in a villa on Beach Road and I was convinced, according to my dad, that a large shark would ninja its way onto the beach, across the road and curl  under my bathtub waiting for yours truly to enter the bathroom so that I could subsequently exit this world, stage left via shark. 

So I really don't watch shows such as Supernatural, Walking Dead, Vampire Diaries. I tried watching the last, but when you're forwarding every scene to see if something creepy happens, then rewinding it so that you are prepared for said creepiness, it kinda gets to be a wee bit of a drag. HOWEVER, a new appreciatiom for the newly SINGLE Ian Somerhalders cutie pie dimples and smouldering sexiness could make this chicken watch that show all over again, insomnia be damned. 

This summer, an absolute shit load of horror flicks have come out. Hubs is in seventh heaven (toba toba Ramadan) because he is an absolute horror geek. Ditto sister-in-law. From World War Z to Insiduous Part 2, from the umpteenth remake of Carrie to yet another Evil Dead film. Seriously, don't we have enough real shit happening in the world that you have to get your rocks off watching this stuff?

Another thing; what's with the remakes and redos, the part 2 up until part 21? No new ideas? Here's a thought, don't waste money making shit movies. Get an idea, a GOOD one, then make it. Don't insult yourself making flicks which years from now you will deny having anything to do with.

On a serious note, you want horror, just watch today's news. News from anywhere around the world. There's the horror people. I'd rather get scared by a mechanical shark named Bruce every day than watch today's horror, brought to you direct from CNN and Fox News, BBC and PTV. 

Olympus has fallen, and so have my film standards

Yea so hubs and I were bored, bored BORED. Nothing to do in this city, zilch, nothing, nada. So, who do we call? DVD wala! 

For the uninitiated, Pakistan has a thriving DVD piracy industry. And it's damn cheap to boot. For a mere 60 rupees, you can get the latest film. Following a show? These guys burn the episodes as soon as they are aired off in US, UK, wherever. FYI, 60 rupees is like 60 cents. Cheap and easy, just like my husband, as he's so fond of saying. Now what that comment implies as far as I'm concerned, I don't really want to know. 

So anyhoos, off to the DVD wala we go. Among the craptastic slasher movies which are a dime a dozen these days (seriously, what's with the renaissance of gore? Lousy acting, stupid story lines, low budget sets, and Godawful dialogue. Jesus wept) we find GI Joe Retaliation, and Olympus has fallen. 

Hubs wants to watch Olympus. I ignore his pleading and put on GI Joe. 2 hours later, after watching the Pakistani president die at the hands of Storm Shadow, a blind African ninja making weird swooshy movements and even weirder comments, a raid on a lair in the mountains which looks like it was borrowed from the Red Skull as a time share, some weird ninja chick who I couldn't give a single rats ass about, the most anti-climatic exit of Channing Tatum (and believe me, that's saying something), and craptastic acting by the Rock, alongside Bruce Fucking Willis doing shitall, our eyeballs went into mutiny at having been subjected to such utter horseshit. Hubs categorically stated, nay, demanded that we immediately watch Olympus Has Fallen to eradicate the travesty that was the GI Joe. I humbly acquiesced.

Oh dear. 

I think I expected too much. With actors like Aaron Eckhart, Morgan 'my voice is like manna from heaven' Freeman, and that guy in 300, I honestly thought there would be something interesting here. And yes, if you like those disaster flicks in which famous monuments/buildings are destroyed completely and utterly, then yea the bit where the White House and the Washington Monument are under fire is pretty nicely filmed. The mowing down of innocent civilians is gruesomely done and the sheer bravery and unmitigated all-star Amercian apple pie we-are-so-awesomely-brave -and-noble actions of the US Secret Service agents is highlighted beautifully. And by 'beautifully' I mean shoved in your face. Look! Look at them! See the painful yet glorious way the tall dashing agents are CALLOUSLY mowed down by the evil evil North Koreans.

The story starts out pretty ok, keeping in mind that whenever I look at Gerard Butler I imagine him screeching 'THIS.........IS..........SPARTA!'. Actually, it would have been AWESOME if he said that sometime in the movie! The presidents son is too cute, as is his code name, Sparkplug. Love it! Morgan Freeman looks good, and sounds even better, but there was no fire there. It was lacklustre. Now his acting in Invictus was legendary. That was such a beautiful epic film.

Eckhart is actually quite palatable as the US president. At least he doesn't try to do the whole bombastic patriotic over the top persona. He's calm, likeable and shows the man behind the office of the President. Rick Yune was alright, although I missed his diamonds from Die Another Day. The bits when Butler is ninjaing his way through the White House and being awesome, was pretty.....awesome? However, at the end, it was a 'meh' movie. Compared to the usual summer films, not bad. By itself, 'meh'. Less than the sum of its parts. A movie to watch, and forget. Now that's not bad for a summer flick, but with Freeman and Eckhart, I expected more.

Facebook activism

So recently I put up a Malala Yusufzai meme on Facebook. On a more accurate note, I shared a meme which some other chap had put together. Basically, it pointed out that Malala's accomplishments paled in comparison to Abdul Sattar Edhi. And then I stopped thinking about it and went back to scratching my ass and watching Bones Season 8.

4 hours later I check facebook (because I'm a bored sad loser) and I find 6 likes and 1 comment on said meme. I check it out and the comment is from this chick I knew in university who saw herself as the Che Geuvera of our times. Said chick blasted me for having no taste whatsoever, for not giving Malala her due as a 16 year old activist who was shot for her efforts and basically implied I'm pathetic and politically unaware.

Righty-o.

I considered bitching her out on Facebook, deleting her comment, or just ignoring it. After judicious discussion with bestie, I decided to ignore, delete and forget. But before I delete this utter piece of nonsense, I just want to put a few thoughts out there.

1. Everyone has a right to their opinion. I had every right to forward said meme, and she had every right to argue against said meme. But please, let's argue/discuss with dignity. No need to be sarcastic and nasty. Furthermore, no need to take the high road and imply that you are oh so socially and politically unaware and we the great unwashed masses should be grateful that you are enlightening us with your opinion. There's a style to it. You obviously don't have any, apart from sounding shrill and egotistical.

2. How easy is it for people who have left their country to sit back and carp and criticise. You took the easy way out, got a green card and fucked off. Are you sitting here and dealing with increasing taxes, shoot outs on the roads, bomb blasts near your homes? No. You're sitting pretty with your foreign passport, yet you consider yourself an expert on your former country's problems. You come once a year to bless us with your presence, can't wait to go back to civilisation, but are all too ready with your armchair activism from abroad. Please. Yes, you will argue that you are doing something, that you love your country, and yeah, that's a good point. But where are you getting your information from? The same gora newspapers? Try getting your facts right. 

3. Don't be patronising, it doesn't suit you. Plus, weren't you the one who 'loved' Osama in university?  

Try explaining that now to your gora buddies.

Toodles. 

What up

I'm back, bitches.