Tag Archives: birthday

Regret

TJ’s birthday cake

TJ’s (daughter ‘s son) birthday date coincided with Nola’s visit to us. Aware of the date I had told Nola that they didn’t have to bring a cake with them, I would do the needful. I had planned to bake a pineapple cake, but didn’t get time to do so. Son bought an ice cream instead. He had asked me earlier whether I was cake ready, and I gave him a negative reply.

M4 (TJ’s younger sister, the two older ones arrived later from Austin) took on the task of filling the balloons. She has a vivid imagination. She concocted various shapes. Specially cute was the doggie. She even made a leash for him to make him walk the length of our sitting room.

After the meal, cake cutting, photos and video everyone was getting ready for bed, but M4 had an other idea. She thrust a balloon sword 🗡 in my hand, and I had to get ready to fight. She was quick on her feet, whereas I was sluggish. She made me die for umpteen times till we had shrieked ourselves hoarse. My only regret is that someone should have made a video of a granddaughter, and grandma fighting. Some chapters of life are too good to miss.

Can’t Get It Right

I wanted my gift ready for daughter’s birthday. It wasn’t! I was fasting, and didn’t have enough time to complete it with getting up for Sehr, and all the cooking done for Iftari. Then Nola left for a three weeks stay in home country, and I thought of gaining more time to do my painting.

Son looked at my efforts, and wasn’t much impressed. Another one I presented to his highness. So time went by. This one has met with a tiny bit of approval.

While coming back Nola and family missed a flight, and spent an extra day in France. My painting is of my grand daughters in Mauregard.

You are Great!



It happened to me today of all days. I had to pay a bill. I searched for my credit card, and ATM card. The last I had used it was to buy a birthday gift. Then I had gone to Sam’s Club with my son to buy some essentials I needed. I searched in all my bags, and purses, beginning with the one I had used that day.

I asked myself, “did I put it back in my bag?” The recollection was hazy.

The cold room which doesn’t get heated properly became as hot as an afternoon sun over Houston. My face started perspiring– my hands got clammy, and my heart started pounding.

I took the dopatta off my head to cool it a bit — all the better to search in earnestly for those absconding cards.

Suddenly I remembered what I had to say, when one is searching for something missing.

Surah Baqarah, verse 156

Translation:

To Allah we belong, and to Him we return.

I looked through my black shoulder bag again ( I had already searched thrice through it). In a corner were lying what I was searching for.

I was Happy!

Thank you Allah. You are Great.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/fight-or-flight/

Age Doesn’t Matter

Daily Prompt: Age – Old Questions
“Age is just a number,” says the well-worn adage. But is it a number you care about, or one you tend (or try) to ignore?

My daughter rang me up on my last birthday (94 days more to go for my next birthday). Trust her not to forget!

Her question: “How old are you now?”
(As if she doesn’t know)

My answer: “Fourteen!”

She laughs at the expected reply, and I laugh too with her.

Worries and tension leave their mark
Crumbling your happiness in two

Age then show in face and posture
Letting downward lines creep through

Age doesn’t matter if you are happy
Happiness warms and gladdens your heart

With smiles and echoing laughter
Joy lights you ageless from outside too
(Sheen)

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/age-old-questions/
Age Doesn’t Matter

Never

Daily Prompt: It’s Your Party
Since many are marking their country’s birthday in the US today, we wanted to ask: How do you celebrate yours? Are you all for a big bash, or more of a low – key birthday boy/girl?

A Happy Fourth of July to Readers across US.

I couldn’t resist putting Google’s birthday celebration on my page.

I was a very welcome addition to our family. I was born eight years after my elder brother. My mother was ecstatic with joy on my birth. She had prayed for a second child to God, for a long time.

Oh! This is embarrassing (as told to me by aunt Zarin). Marriage proposals for a new born inundated my mom, when the relatives saw me for the first time. Girls were betrothed at an early stage in those days. Sometimes on the eve of a child’s birth. It’s terrible to think of it. The poor child not knowing to which world she had arrived, and what she would be facing in the future.

Thanks and Praises to God that this custom is not prevalent nowadays.

What were my mother’s feelings, I will never know. She died when I was five.

My dear father showered me with love. He kissed my cheek, and if I was sitting, he would drop a kiss on my head (at whatever time he saw me). It was many times during a day.

He couldn’t see my tears. Whatever I asked for was mine for the asking.

I usually asked for books. Magically they would be beside my pillow, when I opened my eyes, first thing in the morning.

But there is one thing; birthdays never got celebrated in our home. My birthday, or my siblings — no never.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/its-your-party/
Never

I’M NOT SHORT

I was the shortest among my siblings, five feet one inch to be exact. I was never bothered about it till after my marriage. To tell you the truth I wasn’t aware of my shortcoming. I was made to realize this FACT by my very ‘Zealous’ sister in law time and again and others like her. I am sure it was very rude on their part but in those days I started feeling that somehow I was a big culprit. Now why didn’t I had a height of five eight or something like that? Now what to do? I was miserable on the inside over my this very Serious Flaw.😢

I was being immature you can say, but you can excuse me, my eighteenth birthday was still a month away. I took to wearing heels. I use to totter around on them, much to the amusement of my husband. My feet would be killing me but I would have a fake smile plastered on my face. Pregnancy rescued me from those heels. Thank God for that.

I grew up and stopped caring about rude comments. In my mind I was perfect the way I was. God had made me and you don’t criticize God’s Creation. 😊

Photos courtesy of World Wide Web.

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