I bet you can tell when Saad is back (hint: some virtual space of mine gets neglected).

He came back almost three weeks ago for what was supposed to be a week’s visit, but it turned into nearly three weeks. He left yesterday morning and we’ve been chugging along business as usual since.

In unrelated news, I’ve decided to give up sugar, salt, and to an extend, caffeine. Saad has been encouraging me to do so, just for general health, for the entirety of our marriage. He doesn’t add salt to anything he eats, drinks his tea and coffee plain (this is all sorts of gross to me), considerably limits his sugar intake in general, and rarely has caffeine. For the most part, his motto is “everything in moderation,” which I believe in as well, but please don’t ever give me plain tea or coffee. In the last few years, we’ve deceased or eliminated salt/ sugar in almost everything we purchase or make, but there’s room for improvement on my part, we’ll say.

Nonetheless, he’s been a big advocate for giving up both as completely as possible and encouraging me to join him in this regard.

Well, there’s been a breakthrough; this is the conversation that occurred this past weekend.

Me: Babe! So, guess what? (I never really wait for him to answer) I read an article on how sugar becomes an addictive, silent killer and linked to [this disorder and that syndrome blah blah blah], and so I think I’m going to try giving it up.

Saad: You don’t say…

Me: While I’m at it, I read a few tweets from this doctor about blood pressure and salt intake. So I think I should give salt up too.

Saad: *nodding*

Me: Also, I don’t like the way caffeine completely annihilates my sleeping pattern. A cup of coffee or too many cups of tea keep me up and I’m a little grouchy and moody the next day (read: become medusa). I kind of feel like everyone suffers when that happens.

Saad: *nodding*

Me: So I should probably give up caffeine, or at least tone it down to decaf (which still has traces of caffeine and differs from caffeine -free) to wean myself off.

Saad: *nodding*

Me: HEY! We can do this together. Maybe you can teach me your ways Oh, Wise and Bland One. I just wish I had come to these realizations a little sooner.

Saad: *head bang to wall*

The first test was my breakfast this morning — tea and a bagel. Plain bagel and god-help-me, plain tea. I doubt I have ever had a more punishing cup of tea in my life.

So then I cheated and added honey.

But I rebounded and ignored the glorious slices of cheesecake left over from Saad’s birthday. I longingly gazed at them, maybe mouthed I Love You’s to them, but I was a big girl and said No, not this time. Instead I had fabulously thick and creamy greek yogurt with fruit.

We’ll see how long this lasts, but I figure better health is worth a shot.

And now that I’ve committed blogging sin and talked about what I ate instead of something interesting, I will conclude this post with these sugar monsters:

via lifewithcake.com

P.S. If the “old” sugar-loving me were eating these deliciously scary little critters, I’d have to eat their eye first so that my food isn’t look at me as I eat the rest of its cakey body. I’d spare it the gore and eliminate its sight first, you know? Have a little kindness in my devouring ways sort of thing.

via starryeyekid

Today has been a humbling day. Within the span of about 24 hours, there’s been news of everything from separation, divorce, recurring illness, and death from friends both online and off.

When there’s a tornado of heartache swirling around people you care about, you want to break through the shatterproof glass and take them to safety, but the thing about shatterproof glass is that it’s shatterproof. So all you can do is help them weather the storm and pray it doesn’t rip them apart and spit them out.

I have tons of pictures of all the fun we’ve been having lately, but the post I intended to have up doesn’t seem right for today.

So instead I’d just like to remind everyone to stay safe, work it out, and hug your loved ones.

Everything is temporary.

Some of the things I miss about undergrad:

Waking up and getting dressed for a day outside of the house. This means that I had an excuse to buy new clothes.

Putting my driving skills to test by getting through horrendous traffic, parking,and sprinting (figuratively, of course!) to class to make it there at least 20 min. before class (read next point/”memory”).

Finding the perfect position/seat in class. Although there aren’t assigned seats, once I find my spot I don’t exchange the seat with anyone for anything. And if someone is in my seat by the time I get there (which is why I try to get to class super early), then I stare at the back of their head and laser beam mean, angry thoughts at them.

How acceptable it was to stalk prey in the parking lot. This means that it was perfectly normal to cruise the campus parking lot(s) until you find someone (prey) walking to their car and then slowly trailing (stalking) them to their vehicle for their spot. For some reason, this never worked non-campus lots.

What was that? You didn’t stalk prey? Are you telling me it’s creepy?

Whipping out my notebook and pen/pencil, the only two things on my desk –nothing more, nothing less. Highlighters, sticky notes, erasers, flashcards —NOTHING ELSE, I SAID.

Cracking open my notebook and gently caressing the clean new page before I tattoo it in notes.

Listening with genuine interest to the lecture; sort of listening for leisure, but noting for knowledge. I think the only classes I involuntarily zoned out in were Calculus II and III because they were Calculus II and III. Nearly four years later, I am still traumatized from these two classes. From the times I was paying attention/awake, at least.

My hidden study spots in the library and other buildings.

Stopping by the campus Einsteins or Starbucks to grab coffee and a snack before going to study.

Sitting in front of the water garden or under the shade of magnificent trees.

Dodging bike riders. And scooter riders. And roller bladders. And golf-cart drivers. And unicyclists. We were a transportation-diverse campus, obviously.

Seeing the campus swarm with students in between classes sections.

As stressful finals time can be, I love the atmosphere. Looking like the living dead with coffee in one hand and clenching last-minute notes in the other. More than anything though, it’s the high of completing an exam and walking out of the room momentarily burden free until the next final.

Running into old classmates/friends and professors. And sometimes avoiding them.

Being with my boys (Saad and Aiman) at the end of the day.

The smell of angst that filled the waiting room at the pre-med advisor’s office. Sadly, there was no antiperspirants for this.

Making difficult decisions:

I didn't make this; it's a meme floating around the internet.

Except this illustration should include mother/wife duties for my experience, but let’s not get technical (although we should definitely get technical about that major detail).

***

College flew by, as did the last 24 years of my life. I’m beyond ready for the next phase of school and look forward to increased coffee consumption, protectiveness of my seat, burden-free highs, and general anxiety in medical school.

OH, MEDICAL SCHOOL.

Are my angst-stained armpits showing?

Do you find that you’re too graceful? That you can walk and chew your gum at the same time and look fabulous while doing it?

Being perfect is such a bore, isn’t it?

Well, have I got good news for you!  Below is instructional wisdom on how to be fabulously uncouth.

This guide, studied and tested by the clumsiest and most awkward scientist in the world, is here to help you disgrace yourself and fall into imprefection. Who wants poised and functional when you can have blundering and hazardous?

Involved parties:

• Mother, awaiting post bedtime freedom
• Two young children, 3 years old and 7 months old

Supplies:

• Sharp, loud child’s toy
• Dark, floor-boards-need-oiling children’s room

Instructions:

1. Begin bedtime routine with children, not forgetting to repeatedly wrangle 3 year old up the stairs and into the tub while 7 month old helplessly dangles along.
2. Complete bath and story.
3. Now, the hardest part: getting children to doze off and sleep.
   • 3 year old, accustomed to routine, settles in and goes to sleep
   • 7 month old, not as accustomed and in a distracted phase, finds smallest, most random thing in room (ie. small speck in the middle of the wall) extraordinarily exciting and fixates upon it. Seven month old fights sleep, delaying mother’s freedom other chores.
4. After much nursing, swaying, willing child to focus on sleeping, child finally (FINALLY) sleeps.
5. Mother, assess your environment and calculate every movement between your position in the room and the infant’s bed.
6. Mother, use your ninja skills (acquired via older child’s sleep sensitivities when he was an infant) to move stealthly through room.
7. Mother, gently settle infant into bed and calculate plan to exit room.
8. Mother, before leaving, look at both children and smile warmly. The think about all that sweet precious independence that awaits you downstairs and smile even harder.
9. Mother, gently turn while smiling, to get out of room.
10. Mother, begin creeping towards door –RAAAAWWWR! You just stepped on 3 year old’s very pointy and stupidly loud, flashy dinosaur toy he snuck into room.
    • Duck and clasp dinosaur toy, trying to muffle the noise.
    • Lick the wound of your injured foot (not really, but you know).
    • Stand to check on children.
    • Lean forward to check if infant’s eye’s are open (for whatever reason).
    • While leaning forward, press on injured foot, underestimate the pain AND FALL.
    • Try to salvage fall by grabbing rail, only to miss it completely.
    • Instead of grabbing rail, tangle yourself in random lamp cord and take the lamp down with you
    • Crash of lamp and few knick knacks falling off stand
    • Involuntarily make ugly noise while falling.
    • Land on stupid dinosaur again —RAAAAWWWR!
    • Try to muffle stupid dinosaur again.
    • Sit in silence…3,2,1
    • Infant crying
    • 3 year old awake, asking “Mom? Mom? What happened? YOU’RE PLAYING WITH MY DINOSAUR??”
11. Mother, momentarily sit there and hate yourself.
12. Mother, calm children down.
13. Re-sway, re-bounce, re-hum to get infant to sleep again as extra punishment.
14. When children are back to sleep, Mother, do not smile and sure as hell do not think about anything but army crawling out of room because you can’t step on a stupid flashy, loud dinosaur when you’re army crawling, now can you?

And there you have it –it really IS that simple.

*Sound effects not included unless personally projected.

**Dignity not a part of this package.

Happy Self-Disgracing!

CAN YOU HEAR ME  ME ME ME ME ME ME ME

As I clean off the cobwebs and dust all over this blog, I notice it reeks of abandonment and neglect.

But fear not, for I am here to tidy up this mess!

Where should I start? Should this be one long (long, long, long) update post in which I tell you more than you care to know? Or should I only highlight the important aspects of the last ten or so days? Should I , oxymoronically, shut-up and talk the talk already?

I’LL DO ALL THREE without knocking you over, hopefully.

The important part(s)

Since the last post:

• We are still fighting THRUSH! Oh my sweet God of mercy and sanity, WE ARE STILL FIGHTING THRUSH. We completed the entire treatment course and were good to go for about a day or two until I noticed the white spots in the back of her throat again, after which I may or may not have sat there cursing the overgrown yeast partying it up in my baby’s throat. I so want to call the cops and complain of disturbance of population control on their ass and squash their party. Just as I figured, it’s probably because of one thing that I forgot to boil or sanitize that reinfected her/us. So anyway, we’re halfway through round two of treatment for this forsaken THRUSH!
  

  Baby girl is clearly SUFFERING. Good thing I bribe her with sweet potatoes -- that she inevitably gets all over her face.

• Saad was here for two whole months and like all good things, it came to an end last Thursday. That’s also partly the reason this blog has withered away. You see, his departure date sneaks up on us –here we are just minding our own business and soaking up his presence when BAM! There’s only a week left until he goes back. We try to do all sorts of family fun stuff/ lounging around in each others’ company during that time, which also means little to no distractions, ie news reading (for him) and self-delcared important internet browsing (for me), including blogging. So essentially, YOU CAN BLAME SAAD and his cruel, cruel departure date attacking us like that.
  • It’s always the worst part of the year whenever he has to go back, but hopefully we’ll be smelling each other’s morning breath in two (if we’re lucky) to 10 week’s time. (You can thank Aiman for this morning breath reference since we’ve watched the Shrek trilogy umpteen +1 times in the last few weeks. He LOVES the movies and we are all completely Team Ogre, so morning breath is the Ogre way to express that sentiment. Just FYI, is all.)
  • It’s been hard playing catch up since he left. In the previous post I mentioned he would come home for dinner and bedtime every night, so going through the bedtime routine along for both kids literally left me out of breath the first night after he left, although it could have something to do with those demonic cookies (scroll down).
• Another excuse legitimate reason this blog was thrown to the curb is that there was a bigger bully on the block who goes by the name, Medical School Personal Statement. He was fierce and totally kicked my butt. I had him under control at first, back in November, and had him all written beaten up. Then! Then that jerk came back with a vengeance and a low blow — my pride. Yeah! He took my pride and spat on it as he said “THIS ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH” and then ran away to the desktop trash can. So I worked out (my only “workout”) and battled him in the last few days, ending this feud once and for all last night. So you see, I had to invest what little writing fighting power I have and get this little “problem” taken care of.

The Extraneous Part(s):

• We rung in the new year with a late night barbecue and our good family friend, Bukky, over. We’ve known Bukky and her family since our Sunday School years and she’s essentially my sister, Sieda’s, “Summer.” We love that girl and we love her in-law-school-brain, which came in handy because (next point):

• Someone drove into our backyard on new year’s day. Sieda, Bukky, and I were on our way to go paintballing (OMG! NEXT POINT!) with a group of girls, and right as we were leaving, we heard a crash in the backyard. My mom looked out the back door and screamed my name — a scream that still makes my blood stop and my heart pound right through my chest. That’s when I knew something serious just happened. When we got to the site, we were all like, “Well, look at that. There’s a freakin’ car in the backyard” and the driver was unnaturally calm about it. My guess is that she was exhausted from work and simply dozed off because no one ran into her and it’s unlikely to just lose control of your vehicle unless it’s possessed, but then who keeps/drives a possessed car, you know?

• Paintballing. I love it. Wait, no I LOVE IT. That’s more like it. Now, you have to understand that I take it very seriously. The group I went with were all newbies, including myself, but it was obvious none of them had ever prepared for a Zombie Apocalypse and were far too forgiving to the other team. Also, you have to respect the fact that once you’re out of ammo, you’re vulnerable, and effectively OUTof the apocalypse. Would you forgive a zombie? I DIDN’T THINK SO. STAY LOW AND RESERVE YOUR AMMO.
  • Paint ball shots hurt so much, I just can’t describe it. My sister and I were on opposite teams, so you know we had to get each other first. It was mutually a personal objective and just plain personal. Well, she got me in my right arm while someone else shot at my left. She doesn’t know it, but in the midst of fire, I played mean, but behind the barrels? After she and someone paintballed me in the arms? I nearly cried in pain, hugging myself as I waited for the adrenaline to numb the pain. Paint balls hurt so much, people. So much.
  • The next day, I was not only branded in six solid bruises, but sore beyond my mind. Because I play hardcore? Perhaps. Because it was the only thing close to a workout I had in a very long time? Perhaps-Perhaps.
  • We went to Ci-Ci’s for a quick and easy dinner afterwards and I was leaking breast milk through my shirt, visible for all the restaurant to see. Did I care? Covered in dirt, paint, and god knows what that giant smudge of green-ish brown gunk on my thigh is? NO, BECAUSE I JUST SURVIVED A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE. I sure will have an entire pizza and all of my dessert because I earned it, thankyouverymuch.

That concludes the update blabber, but wait THERE’S MORE.

More of my cynical conspiracy-theory wrapped rambling, that is. What did you expect, now?

So in an explanation worthy of another post, I’ve laid of coffee for a few weeks. I’ll go ahead and admit there are personal benefits so far, one of which is the ability to Just Say No. Like the way they teach you in school to Just Say No to drugs, only I’m not addicted, but I won’t refuse a good cup done right and fancy –perfect blend of creamer, sugar, and whipped cream with a sprinkle of cinnamon or chocolate. Who says no to that?

Luckily, only Starbucks does it as fancy as I’d like or care to do myself, so it’s been easy to refuse the “plain” variety, without any of the above.

But I cheat. I’ll drive up to Starbucks and ask for a DECAF something or another and feel so clever. I just enjoy the taste! It’s only for the taste! And maybe the placebo effect, even if I know it’s decaf.

credit via jasonlove.com

So anyway, I always have a secret fear that they forget to make it decaf and I chug back a fully-caffeinated beverage, which will make me stay up to odd hours of the night and between the kids’ sleeping patterns and my accidental caffeination, I’ll never experience sleep EVER AGAIN.

Today I got a venti iced coffee with the works –whipped cream and all that jazz — in decaf, of course. But it’s 3am and I am WIDE AWAKE (when I drafted this post, at least). Totally wired, even. I mean, I could even work out or something right now, but I’m not fooling anyone; I definitely won’t workout.

No, I’m not obsessing over the possible caffeine coursing my veins, fueling my insomnia. It wouldn’t be that venti iced coffee with the works. No. NO. The barista wouldn’t do that to me.

It could be PMS-induced insomnia, which I will gladly take because at least my PMS comes in a grande or less*.

*That’s a lie; my PMS totally comes in a trenta (Starbucks largest, ginormously gross-sized 31-oz size). That was the part you’d probably not care to know, but welcome to the risk of reading my blog.

A few weeks ago I wrote a post about a then-new Muslim “reality” show called All American Muslim. After a few weeks, I feel that the show does more good than harm in that it at least opens up a dialogue with the American audience and hopefully encourages discussions and who knows, maybe even friendships.

The biggest detail that gets lost in the critiques and backlash is that the show is NOT about Islam but about the (Arab-American) Muslims who follow the religion according to their level and interpretation of faith.

Yet, I can’t and won’t get past the fact that it’s from a very narrow viewpoint and from a minority within the Muslim community because newsflash, we’re not all Arab and Shiite. Ninety percent of Arabs are Muslims, but only 15% Muslims are Arab and that is a big difference. The Arab-American Muslim culture is different from that of say, the Asian American Muslim culture and the lack of diversity in the show loses an element of “American-ness” when more than one type of ethnicity or culture is not presented.

ANYWAY. During a very unmerciful bout of insomnia I found a link to the Canadian “version” of All American Muslim called Me, the Muslim Next Door and to put it bluntly, I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

There are Arabs (as there should be) and non-Arab Muslims represented –even a Latin American Muslim from Brazil!

Diversity: CHECKITY CHECK CHECK CHECK.

Was there an Ethiopian Muslim? Not necessarily, but I felt more or less represented by more than one individual and I’m not even Canadian, nor do I have to be. That’s how well put together the cast was.

If you’re interested and willing, which I hope you are, the show’s site has webcasts of their episodes for viewing.

You know I watched every single one of them.

So there was purpose in the madness of my insomnia. Too bad that purpose was not my personal statement or the many, many MCAT diddlies needing my attention.

Now, go forth and watch it!

(or not, but I tried.)

The lovely Jasmine at MrsMommyMD linked me in a Kreativ Blogger award in which I share with you more fact/details than you probably already know about me on this here ol’ blog. No need to thank me as I’m sure you’ve been dying to know such details (hint: sarcasm)

Name your favorite song: I don’t have a favorite song, really. Largely due to not listening to music much, not because I don’t believe in it, but more because it just doesn’t happen. NPR rules in the car, and general radio music annoys me. Goodness, how boring, huh? Generally I like dance and “Cafe” music most.

Name your favorite dessert: Again, I don’t have a favorite, but if I had to choose right this second it would something French, like a French Neapolitan, but generally anything cold, creamy, and if it involves custard then I’d sell my soul for it.

What pisses you off?: Racism, the horrendous state of the American school and health systems, and jeggings.

When you’re upset, you: Go silent and close off everyone. Then I go around angrily mumbling to myself until I calm my nerves enough to talk to someone again. Sometimes I foam and the mouth and my head explodes too.

Your favorite pet: I can appreciate dogs, or want to, at least, but I’m a total cat person. 100% cats forever. I especially love that they come in one standard size; there is no “great dane” of cats. And I can definitely out run them.

Black or White?: Depends on the occasion and sometimes my mood, but black is great for hiding the mid-section jigglies and white for something that doesn’t involve handling or being around kids for obvious staining reasons.

Your biggest fear: Failure at life.

Best Feature: I’m very introspective and have an inbuilt therapist in the corner of my head. I’d also say I have strong communication and leadership skills.

Everyday Attitude: Everyday is another day alive, another chance to do and be better.

What is perfection?: Nothing, unless it’s a cold, creamy, custardy dessert.

Guilty Pleasure: When the day comes that I can sleep in and get out of bed from my own free will, I WILL NOT FEEL GUILTY ABOUT IT, but another answer for this question would be gourmet coffee and creamer. Sounds lame until you’ve had coffee that tastes like diluted poop.

Random Facts:

• I can’t respect someone who smacks their mouth while eating.
• When I was eight, I found a pack of shaving razors in my mom’s bathroom. Felt like I should get a taste of womanhood right then and there and decided to shave. Instead of gently gliding the razor against my dry, unmoisturized or wetted shin, I firmly pressed the razor against the skin on my shin AND RAZORED OFF SLABS OF SKIN. It didn’t hurt at first, but then the blood pooled and everything’s just a blur after that.
• I have 6 siblings.
• My husband and I got married while I was 17 and he was 20.  It was the Summer before my senior year in high school and his junior year of college.
• I take great pride in being able to do one-handed cartwheels.
• I “trimmed” my eyelashes once when I was 12 because….I don’t really remember, but THANK GOD I DIDN’T USE A RAZOR.

Now go ahead and check out these fabulous ladies, who can now regard themselves linked as well!

 KhanClan

SimpleeJae

UmManaalsMusings

TheHousePoet

Babique

WithSterlingPrecision

CasaDeKaloi

MissZoot

MorphineBreath

CatNipAndCoffee

RunningStitch

Here I am, wide awake at 20 minutes past 1am. This wouldn’t be so bad except that I’ll regret it come 7am-ish.

I can thank my lack of self-control for this one. I had my regular iced coffee this morning and usually stay away from other forms of caffeine for the rest of the day, but I had a cup of tea around 8pm to stay awake and get some solid studying in. WELL.

Solid studying did happen and now that I’m done for the night, I can’t turn my brain off! Or stop shaking my foot for that matter. I did not realize I was this sensitive to caffeine. I mean, one cup of coffee and one cup of tea and I’m ready to run on the treadmill right now. If I mention me and running, it means serious business folks.

**********

Studying was fabulous tonight. Had an extensive Biology quiz that reviewed everything I’d been covering in Biology in detail and my recall was great (instead of a score/grade, you get a recall report that highlights what areas need to be reviewed), so that was a nice pick-me-up. I’ll the do Organic and Chem portions tomorrow, and see how forgiving Chemistry will be.

The MCAT testing schedule comes out later this month and two weeks ago I was dead-sure about taking it in January. However, it now looks like I might have to push it back to the February or March date, mainly depending on how Saad’s schedule looks like next semester and when I can get Physics II out of the way. Trying to plan for a day is frustrating when so many variables are still vague, let alone a whole semester, but…it’ll happen. Sooner or later, the day when I take that exam once and for all will come.

*********

I’ve got a slight disdain for Chemistry and Physics. So basically the entire Physical Sciences portion of the MCAT. Biology has always been a life long interest and love, and Organic is turning out to be a surprising addition to that list, granted you only need to know it at the undergraduate level for the exam, but holy crap physical sciences!

In short, Physics and Chem are not my favorites in the least.

**********

Is it possible to run out of Verbal Reasoning practice passages and exams? That’s a genuine concern I have. I go through about three passages a day timed to no more than 25 minutes to stay on top of it (and you can’t “review” for verbal passages anyway, so practice IS reviewing) and would like to add another passage to it a week so that I’m eventually taking full length verbal sections in 60 minutes or less. BUT WHAT IF I COMPLETELY RUN OUT BEFORE D-DAY??

And then the stamina I’ve built is hindered because I would have to go through a serious hunt for more material. MOAR MATERIAL. NEED MOAR (say that in a zombie-like fashion…drool and spewing blood, appreciated).

I need more practice material in everything because practice makes perfect, right? Or at least pretty damn close.

*********

Thank goodness September flew by! Now it’s your turn October, and then you November, and December, minus the days of Aiman’s birthday and Saad’s return, you need to hurry up too.

How about all of you 2012? At least until up until May. And then I’ll need you to zoom by as well.

I’m pretty sure I’m what you can describe as Impatient to No End, although I am relatively patient to most ends, except this one application-process-end.

Last mention of it, promise. (For now).

********

Oh look at that…it’s officially the second of October and officially the 24th year of my life.

In all of the nearly two hours I’ve been 24, I can tell you that 24 feels serious. The thirties, I consider, “real adulthood” when most of what you’ve been striving for starts to come to fruition (usually) and you’re taking life more seriously (maybe because it takes you more seriously too), but something about your mid-twenties feels like the beginning steps towards maturity.

That could be the overstimulation talking, I don’t really know.

I think I’ll like 24. Big things are planned for the year so c’moooooon 24, let’s make some magic!

It’s the waiting.

Waiting for this semester to pass, to even schedule my MCAT testing date, to take the exam, to get all of my paper work in order, to apply, then wait some more. Then, if things go according to plan, there’s a year’s worth of waiting to actually begin school. Then there’s also the waiting involved to see what we’re going or doing when Saad’s done, which we can’t even begin to plan for until the end of this semester.

There’s two years in between now and the first day of medical school, and if things don’t go according to plan or life throws something unexpected into the mix, even more waiting is going to be needed.

In retrospect, time flies. It’s the getting to the point of seeing how much time has gone by that’s hard. Admittedly, I can be impatient, but when you’re finally sure of what you want to do, have a plan of execution, but feel like your current state of being and doing aren’t up to par with what you desire, then waiting to get the ball rolling on your ambitions is cause for chest pain-inducing frustration.

I can’t focus these days. Since Saad went back for school, it’s taken me a whole week and a half to get back into the groove of studying and even then, my mind’s elsewhere half the time. I partially wish I could just eat the pages and have them absorb into my brain that way or something equally comical and ridiculous. How much easier it would be….

Over my study table I have bright sticky notes of my reasons for pursuing this career and motivations to keep the flame burning, so to speak. Sometimes those bright pink notes backfire and looking up at them gives me more anxiety than they were ever intended to.

Looking at the big picture doesn’t help either because it’s only a reminder of how much I need to do and haven’t done, but need to wait to do. I’ll have to break it down into tiny increments.

The 2012 MCAT test dates open up in about two weeks. Once I have a seat reserved, it’ll all be more real and finally feel like the ball is ever so slowly rolling.

For now I’m waiting until then.

As vague as that might sound, you do not understand what a milestone it is for him to a) even mention he’s coming earlier and b) to give me an estimated time in the month.

This requires an explanation. Which I’m going to give you.

Saad, you see, likes to surprise you so much that you’re a gasp away from a heart attack. One time I was five months pregnant with Aiman and home alone, making lasagna in the kitchen. I didn’t really hear the door open, but I had this strange feeling someone was either coming in or already in the house.

Again, I’m pregnant and alone, and yet I strolled into the living room all I-have-an-uncomfortable-feeling-about-something-happening-but-I’m-going-to-check-it-out-anyway! To my utter shock and flabbergasted confusion, there was my husband, who I wasn’t expecting for another month or so, walking up to me for a hug.

I was brain-numb and very emotionally volatile in all the right and pregnant ways.

He later told me that if things had gone exactly the way he had planned it, he was just going to go wait for me in our room until I got up there. And you know, catch me as I faint in sheer fright and shock.

So the man likes doing this sort of stuff, and I honestly love it, yet for him to tell me, but not really tell me in advance is pretty special. After living in what you might call a state of hyper-sensitive premonition-ing by stopping what I was doing to look up and say/think “He’s going to walk in right….right….RIGHT NOW!” and he not walk in at all, I made him tell me which weekend he was coming. Because you know what? It is too energy zapping to premonition like that all weekend, not to mention it totally shatters your confidence in seeing seeing/feeling the future.

So by last Wednesday night I knew he’d be home that Friday evening.

And then Friday came and all was divine.

We had dinner at his favorite diner and checked into our hotel for the weekend. Although we were still in the same city, it was neat to have the space and time to ourselves (for those of you who don’t know, I/we live with my family while he’s away).

Saturday, we went to Moody Gardens for the new exhibits and then had dinner on the beach, after which Saad and Aiman run along the shore while I nursed Manaal in the soft sand.

Sunday, after breakfast we spent some time with Saad’s family, who either of us hadn’t seen in a while. Later that day my sister, who has this fancy camera I don’t even know the name of other than it being a Canon, took some fun, impromptu family pictures for us.

If Aiman and Manaal look tired it’s because they were. Manaal woke up from an unfinished nap and it was Aiman’s dinner time, but they were good sports about the nonsense we put them through for these pictures. 

That same night my sister babysat for us after we put the kids down to bed, and Saad and I went out for dinner and hung out in our car. I swear we’re not peculiar people, but our car is pretty much our treehouse. We’ve had our best conversations, ideas, plans, moments, etc., in that little ol’ Corolla. It’s become our escape.

Monday was supposed to be his last day with us, but a hiccup at the airport meant his flight would be delayed until noon the next day and really, we were not complaining. No siree bob. We thoroughly absorbed the extra hours we got with him.

And then Tuesday came along and it was time for him catch his flight. It was hard, as usual, but it’s part of the deal. But you know what? That weekend was such a boost in spirits for all of us. Before he told me he was coming back, I was slowly sinking in my troubles, but having had the time we had together, IT FEELS DAMN GOOD AGAIN.

So other than the weekend Manaal was born, last weekend was the best ever this year.