Saturday, September 30, 2006

The Possesive Adjective "His"



I was trying to cocoon.I took a hot shower, (thanks PBS for putting on kids' shows that can entertain a baby for 10 minutes). I put on comfy clothes, that could be mistaken for pajamas.
After getting dressed and praying, I went to make breakfast: hashbrowns, eggs with spinach (and my new favorite seasoning of salt, chili powder, turmeric, cumin seeds and onion). I heated up pita in the toaster oven. Made my fake cappucino (which I don't know how to spell).
The baby started freaking out because he doesn't understand that, even though breastmilk is ready on demand, an omlette isn't. I sat down with baby and tried to eat with him. For some reason, he ran into the kitchen crying and stayed sitting amongst the line-up of shoes next to the door. I had to coax him out. Wacky kid. We ate and I thought we'd eat happily watching morning television, but President Bush wanted to talk with us.
I don't like hearing anything out of his mouth. It's way past the stage of getting a water pistol and spraying the screen every time he says something stupid. That's how I got through the Presidental debates. No, I can't listen because it's too much like the lunatics are running the asylum.
So, instead my mom called and we talked over some decisions I need to make. I didn't want to think over anything regarding a divorce during Ramadan. I had asked my hub not to present me with the papers at this time. But, I knew that his lawyer was working on matters.
Yesterday, my hub called me in a foul mood. I knew something was wrong. I had been out raking the leaves while the baby slept. After we talked over yard work, he said, "I've got to ask you something from the lawyer. He wants to know who gives the baby the health insurance."OK. Well. Even though I had given up lunch and postponed my prayer in order to get the leaves bagged, I could answer that question. There's about zero chance my hub will ever get a job with health insurance, so I offered to take responsibility for it. Currently, we get it through the state.
Then he said, "And he wants to know about visitation."
That hit me, but like a trooper, I started answering. I fumbled over my words. I began to answer and then stuttered. I was falling apart. He put me on hold to deal with a customer. I started to cry. When he was back on the line, I told him I had to go pray duhr.
That's the problem with postponing prayer. You need a constant supply to buoy your spirit. Without continually going to Allah, especially during times of crisis, you sink lower and lower. If you get too low, you feel like drowning.
Then I ate. I ate too much and too many carbs; bagel with my fish and then chocolate cake for dessert. Carbs act like a drug, you know. And I wanted to numb some of these feelings.
We had to leave the house for a showing. Remember, during all this fracus, I'm still trying to sell a house and find a new place to live. So, after I've scrubbed the tub, polished the faucets, and quickly organized the house, we left together in the car.
His bad mood continued."I can't live like this. It's only one hand clapping. I need to have more money coming in. We have so much debt. How are we going to get out of debt? How?! This is a crazy life. The only thing that keeps me sane is thinking that I've got a place in Egypt and I can get a job in Egypt. I can just go there and start over again. I've been back four years and what have I got to show for it?"
I sat in the backseat very detached. When he'd ask me a question, I'd answer along the lines of, "Alhumdulillah," or "Inshahallah," or "Allah knows best."He dropped me and the baby at my mom's while he went to get money from the man who bought the gas station from him.
See, when my hub had one business, he thought he was Donald Trump and could buy another and handle both. It wasn't enough that he had just bought out his partner in the store (using my lawsuit settlement money). He needed a gas station too. Why would he need another business?
Because he wanted a place for his ex to come and work. He built a haram life of loans and debt to make a haram dream of re-marriage work with a woman he's already divorced three times.
My mom saw my countenance and could tell that I wasn't well. I wasn't. I had just spent a half an hour in a car listening to a man spiral downward to the point where he's basically telling me he could cut his losses and run. I prayed. We ate together and watched Dancing with the Stars. TV acts like a drug, you know. And I wanted to numb these feelings.
He was better after he'd been to see the guy at the gas station and then been to the masjid. But once home, he found fault with something I'd done. Doesn't matter what. He was searching and he found something. I found something too. I checked his phone and found he'd talked with his ex.
His ex doesn't want happiness or goodness for this man. She wants to hurt him. She does. I know this. Think of people in your life. YOU SHOULD ALWAYS FEEL BETTER FOR HAVING SPENT TIME WITH THEM. They should add to your life, not subtract. His ex takes his peace of mind. She tells him how sick the kids are...how many doctor visits she takes them to...how they miss him and wait by the phone for him to call...how the teacher says they're the only kids in class who don't talk about their Baba...how they're the only kids whose Baba doesn't drop them at school...how they think some other man is paying for their life; not their Baba, because they never see him...how Baba promised them a bike, but she had to be the one to go buy it.
I know that I could say many mean things to my ex to have him feel low and worthless. I don't. Children say all kinds of things. It's up to the grown-ups to help them sort it all out. It doesn't help my ex to be a good father if I spew all kinds of hurtful things at him in the name of the children. No. I know this, because my ex has done this to me. Though, lately, after imploring my outlaws to help the situation, the mean emails and swearing on the phone have stopped.
So, today, as I cocooned on a cold morning, I thought about the visitation. Here's what I'm thinking:

from now until age 3-supervised visitation for up to one hour a day, seven days a week
from age 3-6-supervised visitation for up to two hours a day, seven days a week
from age 6-9-unsupervised visation for up to four hours a day, seven days a week
from age 9-12-unsupervised visation for up to eight hours a day, seven days a week
from age 12-15-unsupervised visation, including sleep over, for up to twelve hours, seven days a week
age 15-this custody agreement will end and a new agreement will be written based on the needs at that time

What do you think?

I told mom about all my thoughts. She just wants me to divorce this man who has brought so much chaos into my life. She wants me not only to divorce, but to be done. It's hard on her. She didn't sleep last night. Please send some good energy her way. She's past 70, and really needing some calm for me, in order to feel at ease in her own life.

Once I hung up with my mom, I noticed that somehow, the baby's socks were wet. And I've got to put the non-skid socks on him. He's on hardwood floors and those get slippery! So, I searched through all his drawers and turned up one sock. Thought seriously about just letting him walk around with one sock. "Bad Mother Award for 2006," popped into my brain so I rethought that idea. I decided to head up to my girl's room and search her sock drawer. Maybe some of his had gotten mixed-in with hers.

I had to remove a pile of junk that I'd thrown in there in my flurry to tidy up, but eventually I found socks. OK, they were pink, but they were baby socks with non-skid, so you say, "Alhumdulillah," and put them on. Then I sorted out the rest of her socks and put them neatly away. First time I'd done that in awhile. But, ever since Safa said that undone laundry is a sign of depression, I've been fighting the battle to get it clean and put it away. I then grabbed the pile of junk.

There was the "ME Poster" that my daughter had made for school last year. I love her dearly. She looks so cute. She's in a rainbow dress with her beautiful golden hair in one picture and in a white hejab in the other. Mashallah. She wants to be a teacher when she grows up. She likes playing soccer and going outside. Her favorite book is "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire." She wants to see the Great Pyramids and go to Cairo, Egypt. She wishes there were no more wars.
Then I took a look at the book. This book isn't ours. It belonged to the boys; the nephews who were here a year ago. They stayed in my daughter's room (thus forcing her to share with her brother). "My First Steps in English Grammar." I meant to send it to them and then decided to just hang on to it for now. I meant to bring it to my teaching supplies and then forgot. I truly did not mean to let it sit in my daughter's room for almost a year.

Funny, that this morning, my hub and I had just had a disagreement over his family's visit. I had mentioned how many big things had happened to us over the last four years. I said that on the phone today when he called; he was wanting to be nice. The lawsuit, different jobs, money troubles, troubles with my ex, pregnancy, the family coming to stay. My hub couldn't agree that it was a big deal to have them come visit and he scoffed at me for even suggesting it. Get real. It was huge.

So, there I am looking at their book. I had never really looked inside. I opened it for the first time today and here is what I saw:

Exercises

25. Put suitable possessive adjectives in the blanks:

Ex. Although he loved........wife, he divorced her. ----->his
No kidding. "Although he loved his wife, he divorced her." I could only have seen that sentence one place and I saw it this morning in the book that God meant for me to see. Yes. I do take this as a sign from God.

It is interesting too that "Ex." is short for "Example," but I use it all the time to talk about the other woman in the picture; his ex. She is coming first in the wording. She is the reason.
You can believe what you want, but I see what is written. I feel that I will be divorced from my husband no matter what else happens in Ramadan. No matter how many beseeching prayers I do or how much Quran he hears, I will be given a divorce.
And, he will love me even as he divorces me.

Alhumdulillah. Allah knows best. Always say, "Alhumdulillah."

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