Oh boy!

Lu to our friend in Richmond:
“Brett did you know that boys have sticks coming out from their butts?”

(Photo: this afternoon, in Richmond VA)


I have my breast scan tomorrow…

… and I am nervous.

Please God I want to raise my daughter.

She’s growing

Good morning from #starbucks.

Lu helped pull my dress zipper up. We have her school orientation this afternoon.

Is this reality? Or a dream? Did she grow up this much? Someone wake me up. These are not tears. They’re just watery eyes.

I love her so much.

The social circles of a single mom

As a single mom, I find myself having 6 groups of friends that never mix, but somehow I fit perfectly in all of them. 

1) The families: Mom, dad, and children. 

Our social life: dinners with the kids, play dates, lunches, home improvement, trips, lakes, picnics, beaches, mom only outings, conspiring to make the dads watch the kids and escaping… Just normal family stuff.

Our conversations: rarely existent if the children are around. Normal adult conversations when they are not around. A big chunk of these adult conversations are centered around the kids.

2) The singles: Single friends come with the advantage of having many other single friends, so this group usually grows exponentially fast.

Our social life: Cafés, nights out, drinks, restaurant dinners without my child, earlier dinners, breakfasts or lunches with my child, parties, travels with my child.

Our conversations: Everything in the world that has nothing to do with children. It makes me ponder at how many people on earth never really think about what easily occupies eighty percent of my time.

3) The childless couples: These are great in the sense of their flexibility, and usually their lifestyle is less intense than the single folks.

Our social life: Dinners at home or at restaurants. Vineyards. Occasional happy hours or nights out. Escape from work lunches.   

Our conversations: Combine the above two, plus planning to have children, or never have them. Children do come up in the conversation with these folks.

4) The older people: In their sixties and seventies. I love them, they give me a glimpse to the future. They are so inspiring. 

Our social life: On the phone, by email, visits.

Our conversations: Never ending about life, travels, wisdoms, everything!

5) The single men: Haven’t been able to let any close yet. I miss wearing a nice dress and going on a date. I went on my first date ever a bit less than a year after my divorce (I never really had a first date with my ex husband). It was wonderful. My life timeline is so upside down. 

Our conversations: Them- You’re so strong. Me- (Shut up.) 

                              Them- Does your ex pay child support. Me- (Shut up.)

O.K. it’s not that bad it’s me who’s still distant and withdrawn into myself. I will take a nice dress out. And maybe go on a date. In NYC. In September.

 6) The single moms: I don’t have any, because they are all busy doing what I am doing! Single moms, let’s get together!

Most of my friends don’t know each other, because I know all of them in incredibly different settings. A light bulb just appeared in my head: I am the missing link, and I love all my friends!


(Photo: In Sir, Northern Lebanon)

When I took my veil off

In a ground floor Brooklyn apartment a bit south of Park Slope in New York, on an otherwise uneventful breezy summer day, I stood in front of the mirror, veiled.

Then I removed my veil.

And I went out, slowly strolling down the shady sidewalk, and all I could feel, was how beautifully the breeze caressed my neck, how loosely my hair touched my shoulders, moved when I moved and sometimes synced with the gentle wind.

I walked to the subway station, gladly blending in the crowds, unnoticed. I saw my friends and professors at the university, but no one recognized me. They gave me a simple glance you’d give any stranger, and kept going. But it was me, the actual person inside the veil passing by them in the hallway, the person they had known for years, but not yet met.

I kept my veil in my purse that day, and for some years afterwards. 

 I felt happy, free to be me. And I still feel the same way… 

A box at the front door

We opened the front door and found a box from Lebanon properly placed on the doormat.

We never get anything from Lebanon!

It was full of Lebanese goodies and addressed for Lu. It also had a sentimental handwritten note which I am supposed to read for her until she goes to school, then she can read it by herself.

Thanks Sister! We love you, and now all the blog readers love you too. 


When I grow up

Lu (while tying her shoes to go to school): mama, when I grow up and I have a child can I bring my child with us to the picnic to the lake?
Me: of course!
(And my mind is going ‘oh she loves the routine and wants it to stay forever’. My mind also ignored the fact that she is already thinking about having children.) #happiness