Sick Daze

I felt it brewing yesterday but tried to ignore it. Today, there is no denying it. A good ol’ fashioned summer fever and sinus infection have reacquainted me with despair and fatigue. Oh, if only I could embrace them.

For now, I’ll just let the room spin and my head throb to its own delirious beat. Until… Siraj cries himself awake, needing a clean diaper, and hungry for food. I ignore the pulsating sunlight and hold onto him while I stabilize myself against the side of his crib. Sometimes, if I am quiet and don’t turn on too many lights while I tend to him - he will promptly fall back to sleep. However, this soon became not one of those quiet dawns when Ismaeel cheerfully bellowed his own good mornings and urgent requests for apple juice and a cereal bar. Still in potty training reinforcement mode, I take Ismaeel to the bathroom while also holding Siraj. I am using all of my available energy to not fall down. Maybe I can use one of my lazy-no-good-mother cards and turn on the TV for them while I sneak back to bed. But this is Monday. There is no such thing as mercy.

I soon start packing and ironing all of our requisite items but the thought of coordinating pants and trouser socks for myself nearly put me over the edge. If nothing else, today is a flip-flop day. I email a note about my absence from work and finish packing the boys along their merry way. My husband touches my forehead confirming my (starting to slightly taper off) fever while Siraj and Ismaeel look bewildered that such a state prevents me from going with them. I wave my (still dizzy) goodbyes as they get into the elevator and bask in the quiet until I open my eyes and see the horror that used to be our home.

More cereal bar crumbs than usual have found their way into the fibers of our living room carpet. Apple juice and fingerprints have made an eerie and opaque fog on our glass coffee table. There are toys (that I didn’t even know the boys had) spilled throughout the floor. The kitchen counter is overflowing with pantry items that we bought over the weekend but didn’t yet put away. And most frightening of all, is the backlog of laundry (in desperate need of pre-treating) that might just swallow me alive.

I desperately wanted to sleep but knew the mess around me would only find a way to multiple during my slumber. And so, I started the laundry, scooped up the toys, sprinkled the carpets with deodorizer, wiped the table clean, and tackled the kitchen cupboards. In order to make space I needed to get rid of the older items in the back of the cabinets. I found myself throwing out more than a couple of boxes of expired brownie and cake mixes. Feeling like an inadequate and failed baker, I soon found myself trying to compensate by making a quick batch of orange halal jello for Ismaeel.

Somewhere throughout the day, the house got cleaned, I got showered, some schoolwork was finished, the boys were picked up from daycare, and I head out to my last class of the summer semester. My eyes are still bleary, it is nearly impossible to speak without coughing, and my whole body aches. What really bothers me most is wondering just when exactly is a good time to start taking care of myself.

For now, the answer seems to remain - not quite yet.

Home Disorganization

(West Elm)

Due to a generous maternity leave policy at work - I was very eager to fulfill many items off my nesting to-do list. One of which was to organize the boys’ closet before Siraj’s arrival. Hmmm. Let’s see… Siraj is about to turn 8 months and I am still working on this. Perhaps I should re-think my project management skills.

In my defense, I think I have made considerable progress. I spent my last trimester assembling shelves and drawer units courtesy of West Elm’s Bergen line. I bought collapsible canvas storage boxes, transparent shoe bins, Baby Buddy Blue Size-It Closet Organizers, and even little infant-toddler sized wooden hangers. And yet my husband is still quick to point out that I can’t seem to get it together. Inside the clothes are intended to be sorted and there is a designated section for blankets and a month’s supply of baby wipes, infant diapers, and toddler Pull-Ups.

But this just isn’t enough. It comes down to having too much stuff. You would think having two boys should make things hand-me-down-easy but it is a bit daunting to manage and rotate the various clothing sizes. Ismaeel is wearing size 4T-5T and Siraj is still waffling between 3-6m and 6-12m clothing. For those of you unfamiliar with baby clothing, here is a list of the sizes I am busy sorting and holding on to: newborn, 0-3m, 3-6m, 6-12m, 12-18m, 18-24m, 2T, 3T, 4T, and 5T. As if 10 different sizes aren’t hairy enough, Big Brother was born in June while Little Brother came along in November so nearly every piece of Ismaeel’s clothing is now out-of-season for Siraj. Let’s just say Siraj is always fashionably layered.

So my current aim is to purge and donate anything “non-core” that doesn’t fit into the canvas box for that particular size. So anything stained, with too much pile, or worn out knees is out. However, this still leaves me with more than I should be keeping. I blame OxiClean for not leaving me with more soiled clothing. But seriously, why is this so hard? Why is it heart-wrenching to consider giving away their itsy-bitsy footie jammies? And so my inner-hoarder keeps trying to hold on to what should just be charitable goods.

Granted things are no longer an indistinguishable heap on the closet floor but if you look closely there are still micro-collections of laundry spill-over throughout the house. And so today was the perfect opportunity to avoid the NYC heat wave by hiding inside the air conditioned comforts of home organization. Ismaeel was very eager to “help” which created all sorts of new nap-less tantrums. Still I let him assist by throwing away an unnecessary collection of extra plastic hangers. But after a bit, we got hungry and decided the afternoon would be better spent cuddling over lunch and watching “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs”.

In the meantime, the closet is still not quite Better Homes and Gardens perfect.

And to the boys’ closet, I say...

“I know. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m trying to make this right. I really am. Tomorrow, that is...”