Hi-Tech Overload

Last week, I had an experience that almost made me dive under the duvet, borrow Project Boy’s blankie and suck my thumb in fetal position (yes, I learned to do that from The Pioneer Woman. It is an effective, if immature, life-navigation technique indeed.)

It’s not easy to be a techno-saur in an age when, just as you learn some new PC trick, that technology is obsolete and there is something new to learn. Other bloggers post about new bells and whistles and tech-developments, my eyes glaze over after the first paragraph in a language I don’t understand and that OLD feeling creeps up. Then some whipper-snapper takes you up as a cause and tries to teach you this  ‘really EASY’ step. Oh, the humiliation when you see them understand how much of their life they will have to invest  to help me ‘get it’.

When I laughed at my Nana’s lifelong aversion to driving, and that my mom didn’t learn til she was 30, she just laughed and said: “There will be SOMETHING just like when you are older!”.

She was right. Last week, I had two windows open, researching on one and writing on another. That is about as techie as I get, without going into dyslexic/ADD overload.
Then FB let me know I had a message,

Then my landline rang.

Then blogger Manal popped up with a g-chat. I was feeling pretty good about multi-tasking, techie-style

Then gmail let me know I had a blog comment.

Then, simultaneously, I had ANOTHER gmail chat AND Skype chat for hubby pop up.

Then my cell-phone rang (I had remembered both to charge it AND turn it on)

Then hubby’s cell-phone had a text come in, and that did it.

I ran from the room, expecting the printer to turn on by itself and the lights to start flashing. It was Hi-Tech Overload. I want my IBM Selectric and wall mounted phone on a cord back.

Spikekid laughs at me just like I did with my mom. I can’t WAIT to see what it is that sends him into conniptions when he is nearly fifty. May God grant me the years to see it!

Birthday & Mother’s Day Celebrations Part I

The last three weeks have been FULL of birthday celebrations! First, Lil’ Kinz’s  party, which was a great success in spite of  ma fi svfeehah oo tabouleh.  Nine little girls  (+  one little boy Bean) came over for  the Kelly cake, then we  went to Bambolina for a  great big play date. This was Lil Kinz’ big EVENT party, the once-in-a-kounouz-childhood budget-blow-out. The little girls had a blast, and the mommies all thought it was a GREAT idea. As MommaBean pointed out, they were invited to another birthday party a bit later at the same place! I got to re-meet all the mommies I had spoken with at the Twin Bean Birthday Party just a few weeks before, and would meet again the next weekend at Butter Bean’s Birthday Party!

MommaBean comforted my heart no end when she told me that this other (Jordanian) mother had only cake and WATER for the little guests. She is the greater trendsetter, an Urdaniyya Mommy bucking the societal-expectation yoke of slavery for the simplicity of a child-centered event . Lil Kinz proclaimed it the best birthday ever, she know owns enough Barbies to marry all my sons GI Joes and Max Steeles. Even the dismembered and those with faces permanently camouflaged by Sharpie marker.

Spikekid’s big event was next, only a month late. Why, pray tell? Because Mr. New TeenAger now has a social life, and friends that have five different schooling options who also now have social lives. We are quite proud of him, it has been a year where we have seen real spiritual growth. He was never the kind begging to ‘invite Jesus into his heart’, and pray until the food got cold or I fell asleep for world problems, Aunt Denise’s horse or Grandpa not to be lonely. He was asking the Big Questions of Faith at stoplights on Wadi Saqra at four years old with no visible emotional response to my answers. The kid scared me, I was sure he was going to be an atheist. I have several golden bowls full of tearful prayers in heaven over him when he would just NOT confess his sin.

Bu this year, his Deen teacher took the 7th graders through Rick Warren’s book: “Purpose Driven Life”. What a difference it made to him, to see ways to apply faith to life aside from giving stuff to the poor. He discovered his spiritual gifts and is now confident in seeing where he can serve. He actually PRAYS now, volunteers at church and is in a boys bible study group led by older teens and goes to AIC youth group, which is approaching the size of church. He is taking about baptism now, (in the Jordan River, of course) which is a huge step.

For his party, we had eight of his closest pals over for a 007 XBox Tournament,  watching “Batman Returns”, Subway-style sandwiches, junk food and the biggest chocolate cake I have ever made, served in a mansaf pan. It was so easy, the boys were SO good and Spikekid says: best birthday party ever. He actually cleaned the whole house in preparation w/o being asked. Clean-up was a three day affair, bas hayk.

For me,  it was a low-key blast. Older friends had taken us to the Meridian for a sumptuous buffet, the kids all made cards, my in-box was flooded with good wishes and the phone rang incessantly (some even singing over the phone! The next day, hubby and I have a tradition of making a restaurant meal at home, so it was marinated steak, potatoes with green onions & butter, fresh broccoli, and ice cream for dessert.

Coolest gifts: a pink Starbucks water bottle (so I will be a cool baseball mom), a David Balducci book, and a mommy-styled key-chain Leatherman multi-tool ! I wonder if they will let me into the mall with it. I say, it was the best birthday ever!

Oops. Hot water is waiting. Bye!

Blonde No More; SOB!

Sob is for a loud cry, not an acronym for someone who made me mad. This is a girl-post, btw. And only for girls who want a glimpse into their future in 2-3 decades.
The stark reality has hit me. No more California girl, no more blonde jokes, no more excuses for ditzi-ness, no more pretending that 50 is the new 30. Unless of course, you have a personal trainer, nutritionist, Pilates facilitator and a cousin who is a cosmetic surgeon. Oh yea, and hormone replacement therapy (that’s a joke, I’m not there yet :D). In fact, even 48 isn’t even the new 30, and 47 was quite a stretch to fit all this year.

I only have 6 inches of blonde hair left, and the rest is going gray fast.. Somehow, this summer I managed to get malnourished, and had some serious hair loss. I thought it was just the by-product of, shudder, age-ing, but my Lovely Hair Lady and Endocrinologist claim I was not getting enough nutrients. Imagine, one who spends her life making sure her kids get the right fruit, veg and protein NOT eating the meals with them.

So after three months on multi-vitamins, extra calcium and eating that great English cheese Safeway had on sale, it’s coming back. Thank You, Lord, even if it is my vanity. YET, it is growing in gray and curly!!! AAAAHHHHHHHGGGGGG! I hadn’t had my hair highlighted in several months, and it was the very definition of dish-water blonde; so I was expecting the same results as usual. Oh no. It is definitely silver on dishwater, warm golden highlights are not possible on gray.

But the silver lining on the cloud (pardon, couldn’t help it) is that the Lovely Hair Lady now STRAIGHTENS my hair, just like YOU ladies do!! And it looks nice! Me, who spent years curling my straight locks with two sets of electric curlers, now needs a seshwar to get the kinky gray to look good. And I will be joining the ranks of those Hammoudeh ladies, getting their hair done regularly (but if I even mention Toni & Guy, please hit me). Now I understand why. And I will be taking up Mr. Diva on his offer to give me one of his Famous Make-overs. I guess I will be going all fafi after all. Old fafi.

So for those who know me, watch out. I now have straight, bouncy, seshwared GRAY highlighted hair, all except the last six inches. Please pour on the mujamilaat for the next six months until I get used to looking my age, ok? And wish me a happy birthday this week.

(**My hubby says: “Are you sure you aren’t 24?” Lord, bless that man! In God’s infinite  and eternal mercy, as gravity and time take their toll on our feminine beauty, He allows our husband’s eyesight to further deteriorate**)