Shit, it’s been a long week.
I recently completed a 48 hour school workathon, which is the only type of marathon you will ever find me participating in.
I can assure you, it was just as much of a bitch as the real thing.
Seriously, I think I’m applicable for the Guinness Book of World Records or something.
By the time I hit the last submit button, I was almost awash in tears of relief.
I am DONE DONE DONE with school for now. And I am ready for a vacation.
That’s why The View Through the Window is going to Florida!
Our vacations are usually on the shorter side. We take four day treks to a city within a few hours drive and get back home in just enough time to say mother eff, tomorrow’s Monday!
But this year we decided that a good vacation is a very important part of life. Everyone needs to exit the traffic circle of work, school, home, repeat once in a while.
And what can be a better destination than the happiest place on earth?
After that bitch school workathon, I needed to find a happy place.
I still have my concerns, though. The drive from Chicago to Florida is around 18 hours long. Add my kids to it and we might as well hire a donkey cart for our mode of transportation.
We’d probably get there just as fast.
Flying is completely out of the question. I swore I would never board an airplane with my boys again after my last plane ride, one of the many highlights of which was my very concerned son, a first time flier, asking things like why there were so many cops at the airport, was something wrong with the plane, would it crash and would we all die?
Loud and clear enough for everyone on board to hear. He apparently inherited my flying apprehensions.
This was me.
Everyone knows you don’t say crash when you’re on a plane, especially if you’re a Muslim. I couldn’t believe it, but most people just laughed when they heard him voice his concerns.
Me? I almost threw up all over my friendly fellow passenger from the stress, combined with plenty of air sickness.
I’d rather drive to and back from Florida ten times than go through that again. Any humiliation we experience will be confined to the privacy of our van.
I tried to persuade my husband to postpone the trip until our kids were older, but he was adamant that they were at just the right age to experience the magic that is Disney.
And because he’s paying for everything, I felt I should agree.
And when I did, he was all
So we are going. Suitcases have been packed, Florida relatives have been notified, and neighbors have been asked to keep an eye on our place for us until we return.
Wish us luck! I am sure one hour into the drive I will want to shoot myself, but I believe in living in the moment. And in miracles.
Last week was also my birthday. I am now
31 26 years old.
Here are some birthday dinner pictures.
My mom refused to eat the restaurant’s prized steaks because “they bleed when you slice into them”, so she ordered that enormous vegetable tagine instead.
Here comes the best part about birthdays.
It pays to be old.
It takes me a long time to get ready and out of the house. I take long showers, do my hair three different ways before I’m finally happy with the way it looks, and try to put together an outfit that doesn’t hug back fat or show cleavage.
That last one can take an hour in itself.
So sometimes I’m just not up to the challenge. Sometimes I just want to put on a comfy pair of pajamas, sprawl out onto the sofa, and enter into a coma of laziness.
Most people think that as a stay at home mom, I get plenty of rest during the weekdays and weekends should be reserved for chores and activities.
Eff that shit.
This describes it for me.
Here’s a snippet of a conversation my husband and I had recently :
Hey, want to go out to Menard’s or Home Depot?
I noticed the boys’ room needs new blinds. We could take a look and see what they have.
– I don’t want to.
Apparently he thinks “no” means I’m playing hard to get.
But we could get new blinds for the whole house.
– I don’t care. I like our house ugly.
What if the neighbors happen to look in and see you naked?
– Send them your condolences.
That last question was just plain silly. We have nice neighbors who pay way too much attention to their lawn and don’t really seem interested in a game of peek a boob.
Anyway, this past weekend I had to be productive, whether I wanted to or not, because my in laws were visiting.
And we had a wedding to attend.
And it was my mother in law’s birthday.
And my brother’s birthday.
And I had homework.
So on Friday I slept for a grand total of four and a half hours and got my ass up at the crack of Sheema, get up, your alarm has been going off for an hour already!
I washed, scrubbed, mopped, cleaned, dusted, vacuumed, swept, and cooked. Every time I thought I could rest, I remembered something else that had to be done.
By the afternoon, I was all
Then it was time to take my tired ass to the wedding. By that point, I just didn’t care anymore. I could’ve been sporting facial hair the size of a cat’s whiskers and I still wouldn’t do anything about it.
I put on the same thing I wore to the last wedding I attended, stuck a bobby pin in my hair, popped in some earrings and off we went.
And because I am tired of typing, here are some pictures.
Saturday we went to Lincoln Park Zoo, which meant five hours of constant walking. Yay.
Sure, they have great views, but apparently they decided it meant that they can short change on the animals.
The exhibits are small, the walking areas are cramped, and traffic/parking is a nightmare.
Everything got done over the weekend except for my homework, which I have been putting off in favor of the funner stuff in life.
Not that blogging is still fun. I’m actually getting pretty bored of not for profit writing.
But it beats having to deal with political science and anthropology.
At this rate, I will fail and remain education/degree less for the rest of my life.
I will be old and fat and working at Walmart until I die.
Oh well. At least I have a plan.
Instant diarrhea in a bag.
I am a die hard foodie. I get excited just hearing about what was served at parties. I like to cook and I like to eat.
I swear, when I die, it’ll be probably be with a french fry in my mouth.
And of course it just happens that when a foodie goes on a diet, she gets invited to a beautiful wedding that is hosted by other foodies.
And the dessert table makes you think you died and went to pastry heaven.
My sister and I snuck some of these goodies out with us. 😁
I only had one piece of baklava because I believe in eating in moderation when there are 600 people eating with you.
Then you take the rest home and stuff your face.
Spring is officially here!
*Doing a little happy dance*
School and homework are keeping me busy. The weather is getting better and we find ourselves spending a lot more time outdoors.
I haven’t had the chance to read any of my favorite blogs or devote much time to my own. 😦
Today’s blog post is another click a pic one. Over the weekend we visited my sister on/near the campus of the University of Illinois in Chicago. One of the highlights of the trip to Fati aunty’s are the fantastic views you get to see along the way and while there. Chicago is, after all, famous for its architecture and skyline.
I lived in Queens, New York before moving to Chicago when I was fourteen. This city has its pros and cons, but New York will always be close to my heart.
If my husband were awake, he’d read this over my shoulder and say So you enjoyed the smell of sewer water and being mugged twice a week? and I would tell him to take his country ass back to Kentucky.
We’re soul mates. ❤
Seeing the Chicago skyline while cruising down one of the city’s many highways is awesome. Being in the city always gives me a thrill. Must be the New Yorker in me.
The visit to Fati’s turned into a sleepover for me and my kids because of how late it had gotten.
It was so lovely to see this when I happened to wake up around dawn. It felt like the whole world was waking up with me.
At night from the balcony.
After seeing all these beautiful photos I have come to one major conclusion : I need a better camera.
I can’t wait for my classes to be over. School is a pain in the ass. I wanted to elaborate on the name of my blog and explain why I am so in love with views, but that will have to wait for another post. I have a mountain of backlog of homework to do. 😥
Today is my husband’s birthday! Yay!
We didn’t get to go out to a restaurant like we wanted, so dinner had to be pizza.
Deep dish, Chicago style, and meat lovers, of course.
Since it was his special day, he got to order what he wanted. I personally don’t like deep dish pizza very much. I’d pick New York style over it any time.
My husband and I have now been together for over eight years. I hope we get to spend many more birthdays together. ❤️
And for nostalgic purposes, here are some photos of us from our honeymoon in Orlando, Florida.
If you look real close there’s a blurry-ish full shot of me.
Happy March everyone! I can totally sense the allergies coming on.
This is a picture of me as a baby. The person holding me is my uncle.
I don’t know why I look so angry. My husband says I still make that sour face. A lot.
I’m with my mom in this one. Apparently I didn’t move a lot as a kid. Some things never change.
Excuse the quality of the pics. They’re pretty old.
No, I’m not old. Just the pics are.
My neighbor from across the street recently had her fifth child. She gets out of the house so infrequently that I found out she had been pregnant two weeks after she brought the baby home from the hospital.
She’s a little on the religious side. She likes to tell me that children are a blessing, birth control is a no no, and that we should have as many kids as God decides to give us.
Okay, Michelle Duggar. You do that. I’m going to hop on the first train back to the real world, where we have something called a condom.
As my boys get older, the question of So are you going to have any more? becomes inevitable. I’ve heard it quite a few times already. Everyone seems to think that we need a daughter.
My sister once asked me Wouldn’t you love to have a girl? to which I replied Not as much as I’d love to have a life.
If you listen closely, I’ll tell you a secret. Ready? Okay, here we go.
Kids. Are. A LOT. Of work.
Above is the picture of my eldest at around three months old. Isn’t he such a doll?
But behind those chubby cheeks and fat wrists lies a natural inclination to be hyper. And naughty.
Here is Child 2 at 1.5 months of age.
He’s the opposite of his brother. He loves to eat and to sleep. He also did this thing as a newborn where he would pull a fistful of his own hair and then scream at the top of his lungs. That was cute but I really hoped it didn’t reflect on his level of intelligence.
When you put the two of them together, you get 4 ounces of getting along, 3 ounces of fighting, and 1 ounce of He’s so stupid and annoying and I wish he was like Mini!
Mini is my brother’s deceased pet cat. He was also my kids’ first experience with the concepts of death and dying. I was hoping for some maturity and understanding from them when we mentioned Mini’s passing, but all they got out of it was that he had gone away and was never coming back and hey, that’s a good idea, let’s send my annoying brother there, too.
My kids are my world. They might drive me crazy, but they also make me laugh.
Like when my four year old comes up to me, points to my breasts, and asks Which one makes ice cream?
I’m guessing that’s some sort of reference to breast milk but I was laughing too hard to inquire.
As much as I love my kids, I’m not crazy about the idea of giving them more siblings. My experience with raising infants hasn’t been the greatest. It was challenging, to say the least.
While all the other new parents sailed smoothly, we hit iceberg after iceberg.
Smash. Acid reflux.
Crash. Inability to nurse.
Wham. Being blessed with the one baby in the world that didn’t seem to require any sleep whatsoever. His idea of nap time was an extra long blink.
The biggest problem of them all was my kids’ inability to put on weight. They would gain ounces, not pounds. Both were big babies at birth and in utero, thanks to my doing a really good job at the eating for two part, but my husband was a rail thin child and genetics eventually took over in full force.
Difficulty in gaining weight is a problem I never had. I can look at food and gain weight. Even embryonic me must’ve been on the heavier side.
Not my boys. They both eat like crazy and not one bit of it turns into baby fat. They have the metabolism of an Olympic gold medalist.
While it’s great for them as kids, as babies it was a nightmare. Infancy is the one and only time where fat equals cute. Kid one was diagnosed with failure to thrive and kid two with the audacity to completely fall of the charts.
I know now that children of Indian descent are naturally more petite. But as a new parent, any minor deviation from normal was the end of the world. And that’s what it felt like.
It’s tough to look back at their baby pictures and not remember a time when I felt like a total failure at the whole mothering thing.
An especially low point was when a cold ass bitch commented So are you feeding your kids at all or are you eating their food as well?
Apparently she meant it as a joke. I meant it as a joke, too, when I told her her husband’s tits were bigger than hers.
I’m in no hurry to flunk the test for the third time and neither is my husband. Sure, number 3 might be the charm, but higher powers seem to be agreeing with us on two being the magic number. Meaning my ob-gyn and my cardiologist. The only way I will be allowed to deliver any future child is through cesarean surgery and the pills I pop for my tachycardia are harmful to a growing fetus.
Let’s see. Stop taking potentially life saving medicine and be carved up like a Christmas turkey, or shut down the baby making factory and be a good mom to the kids I already have?
If anything I’d say God was telling me to keep my uterus to myself. Okay, God, I get your message. Sheesh. Now stop sending me those nightmares where I’m giving birth to the Antichrist.
Happy New Year! I’m back! Literally.
We returned late Saturday night from our mini vacation to the in laws house in Terre Haute, IN.
Here are some pics of the view from their huge living room window.
I wanted to take more pictures of their beautiful home but didn’t get the opportunity. I’m lucky to have nice in laws that tell us to leave the boys with them and go out and have fun. In the two and a half days we were there, my husband and I managed to catch the latest Hunger Games movie and have a belated anniversary dinner.
Here are pics of the condiments that came with the bread and the soup I ordered because I thought it came free with my meal.
Terre Haute’s a cute little semi-rural town that’s full of farms, hills, woods, and railroads. I probably think more of it because I associate it with free babysitting and lots of touristy type of fun, but it’s definitely home to some beautiful natural scenery. I managed to get a few pictures of the area, but neither my phone’s camera nor the fugly winter weather did the landscape any justice. I’ll post some spring/summer pictures in the future and you’ll know what I’m talking about.
I also hope to devote a blog post to the neighboring city of Bloomington, IN, which houses the main campus of Indiana University and was my home for a few months after my wedding. I was accepted to IU but unfortunately never attended :(. Bad decision making at its finest.
Here are some really ugly winter pics of Terre Haute for your viewing pleasure. It was a rainy, foggy day when I finally got the chance to drive around town for some camera action.
Terre Haute is home to Indiana State University, which my husband tells me is famous for Larry Bird. Whoever he is. The city also contains the Wabash river state park, which we didn’t get a chance to visit, a huge federal correctional facility, and what seems like half the country’s railroads. It’s definitely train town there.
Yes, those are two and a quarter old french fries stuck to my scarf via crusty old ketchup stain. I’m on a low carb diet and mostly sticking to it, so they weren’t even mine. They must have come from my four year old’s lunch, where he was sitting on my lap, and I missed it because they got lost in the folds of an infinity scarf that wraps around your neck a few bazillion times.
And here I was thinking the people at Walmart were staring and giving me the kind of pitying smile you save for homeless people because of the fabulous new way I did my hair. I was slightly embarrassed at first, I must admit, but compared to the other social and fashion faux pas I’ve made, this is pretty minor. Let’s just laugh and move right along, shall we?
Have I mentioned I find winter fugly?
I’ve given up on football for the season, but my husband is still into it because his team, the Indianapolis Colts, are in the playoffs. He’s not loving the outcome of the first round, though, where Dallas beat Detroit. My husband feels bad for the Lions because
they live in Detroit they play in the same division as the Bears and the Packers and he feels they never get a fair chance. Lucky for them that this year the Bears decided to suck ass.
I hope not to spend so much time away from blogging in the future and want to thank the internetters who have been wondering where the hell I have been. I started this blog as a means of catharsis after the demise of my social life around (how old is firstborn child? oh, yeah, seven) seven years ago and as a way to keep my writing mojo intact. Soon after, though, I realized I do have a life and it keeps me busy, apparently. But no worries. I return, fashion faux pas and all.
So you know that really really bad stomach thing my four year old had? Well, we realized he caught it from the hotbed of germs known as the kids play area at the mall during the busiest shopping season of the year. In the future we will have to consider exposing them to really shitty illness as a drawback to getting the kids out of the house and away from the TV.
Our son is doing much better now, thank god, and being his regular self again. But guess who caught it from him?
*Raising hand slowly*
And not just me. The rest of our little family, meaning my husband and my seven year old, were also not safe from its predatory ways.
This year’s strain of the stomach flu is not the stomach flu you are familiar with. No, not at all. This feels more like it should be called Ebola, Jr. I kid you not.
It leaves you feeling hot and cold at the same time. It sends its minions to gnaw on the inside of your abdomen. The best way I can describe the feeling is hot little dull knives poking at your innards. The pain was what kept us awake the most. I don’t remember dealing with so much of it during past stomach issues. It made my not so very religiously inclined seven year old ask if it was time to pray so that Allah could take away the hurt.
You don’t know whether to shit or to barf first, they’re both so overwhelmingly compelling. There’s an eye of the storm moment after every mad dash to the bathroom, where you think okay, that was the last one, I feel much better, until around 30-45 minutes later, when you’re doing it all over again and you realize the effing remote’s crapped out (no pun intended) and the repeat button is stuck.
The one and only good point about mutant stomach bug, version 2014 is that it moves fast. The little slut. The three of us caught it late Wednesday afternoon, and by early Thursday morning, we were able to give the hallway bathroom a break and get some rest. By Thursday afternoon, I was able to get up, walk around for a few minutes, and attempt to take care of my pretty much back to normal four year old. Yay for primary caretakers! Where being sick means you get to do all the stuff you normally do with the addition of being sick.
Protect yourself from this year’s strain of stomach flu as well as you can, internet peoples. You don’t want to catch this thing, believe me. Compared to it, the stomach bug you have dealt with in the past is the common household cockroach. This, my friends, is Godzilla.
If you think you can handle hours of shitting out all your body fluids, caressing your garbage can like it was your breastfeeding newborn, and having your ass make love to the toilet seat, then go ahead and give it a call. You’ll find its number scrawled on the walls of dirty public bathrooms everywhere.
Ha ha. That’s a funny one. Get it? Walls? Stomach bug? Dirty bathrooms?
You suck. 😐
It is now Friday afternoon and we are all on our way back to normal. Lingering side effects have been a constant state of mild nausea, a heightened sensitivity to smell, and an overall feeling of having a bad hangover. My nose is telling me there’s an open jar of sewer water somewhere in our house, but my husband is saying just stop complaining, will you? and that I’m overreacting. Okay, then.