Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 29th 2016

There is a time in the late evenings, when even the fridge door alarm sounds like someone whining.

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 28th 2016

Ironic that goldfish crackers are now a scarce and highly sought after commodity in our lives. :)

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 27th 2016

Went to get a medical check up today and upon entering the doctor's office I found a dog. 

Cute, fluffy and very friendly...but I don't think I've ever encountered a dog at a doctor's office.

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 24th 2016

And just like that, I blinked, and Z is a boy.

Not a baby... not a toddler... a real boy.

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 23rd 2016

Z threw another fit, this time inciting on sitting diaper-less and that he was 'not ready' to go to nursery. This time, I just left him, no diaper and all, and said "Let me know when you're ready."

About 5 minutes later he came up happily and announced that he was "Ready now!"

I had forgotten this stage of development where they just want to have a little say in something. Just to feel some power or control. 

I tried this with nap today. Instead of telling him I thought he was sleepy and we should rest. I just asked him to tell me when he was ready to nap. He's snoozing right now!

Some ladies today that have been in Morocco a little longer than I have reassured me that my layered 80s haircut fiasco was some sort of initiation into Morocco. Apparently they knew the drill. Apparently, if you fluff it up, you can achieve some sort of Boney M style. Definitely can see that happening with the way my reacts to the humidity here.

I got the names of good hairdressers and the french vocabulary for without layers. Just have to wait a few months till my hair grows enough to be fixed!

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 21st 2016

Z slammed his first door today while protesting going to nursery.

[Bewildered silence...]

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 17th 2016

Finally managed to do a short session of yoga today. 

Every time I take up yoga again and feel the stretching in my tight muscles and the relaxation that it brings, I wonder why I ever stopped in the first place.

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 16th 2016

Gathered up the pool inflatables this morning but just can't bring myself to deflate and store them. 

That would be admitting that summer is over, just because we're getting the first glimpse of fall.

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 15th 2016

Today I finally realized (or more like consciously admit) that I have a chocolate problem.

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 14th 2016

Z seems to have upgraded from simply dinosaurs to the entire, and mostly current, animal kingdom.

He's picking up a lot of vocabulary and ideas from his animal show but I got the feeling  he was slightly confused when he told me the lion as drinking nectar from the zebra.

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 12th 2016

I set out a rice cake for Z to eat and, shortly after, I heard him giggling away. 

Then I heard him say "Look at this creature Mommy!"

When I looked, there was a white worm like creature with a brownish head (meal moth larvae would be my guess) making it's way up his plate.

Silent shock.

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 7th 2016

I bought a produce basket last night. I believe this counts as my official proof of residence here in Morocco :)

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 6th 2016

Today I read a an article about de-cluttering that saved a woman her sanity and helped her enjoy her motherhood.

Every thought in her head, every detail of her story could have easily been me, save for one thing: she took action, effective action, immediately.


I have been feeling for so long that my entire quality of life has been hijacked by things that just sit around my house sucking the life out of me, and my family.

I have been de-cluttering but clearly I haven’t been ruthless enough.

Let the (ruthless) purging begin...

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 5th 2016

Little Z was walking about in his usual manner, head in the clouds, not really focused on what's in front of him when, quite expectedly, he bumped into the wall. 

Stunned he exclaimed "Whoa! Didn't see that comin'!"

Really? I did.

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 4th 2016

I'm almost embarrassed by how much clutter we have accumulated. 

Actually, I'm very embarrassed. 

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 3rd 2016

I called a man to measure and install curtains for us. He informed me that he was spending this month away for Eid celebration. I'm a little in disbelief that I really can't get curtains for one month.

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 2nd 2016

One thing I wish people realized was, how difficult it is for me to answer the simple question "Where are you from?"

I inherited a passport from each of my parents. My father's origins are from a different place than the passport he handed me. I was born and raised until I was fourteen in a fourth place altogether. 

I grew up as a third culture kid not really knowing what belonging to a specific culture meant. I had friends from everywhere. We connected based on a personality and interest match, unrelated to our 'nationalities.'

Now my new nuclear family perpetually moves from one country to another to follow my husband's work and I know that makes me all the more aware and yet all the more confused. I can't begin to imagine how confused my poor children must be.

At one point, I wanted to declare my own country. I come from the Republic of Me. I just don't see most adults appreciating that type of response. 

But I'm just me. You can't stereotype based on what nationality I hold or where I'm 'originally from.' 

I just don't fix in any neat box.

Diary of a Confused Mom (in Morocco): September 1st 2016

Fourth grade had a parent meeting today. I came out of it with two thoughts only:

1. T is going on an overnight school trip WITHOUT ME? I tried not to look like the panicked helicopter mom, that I'm clearly not.

2. No. Homework. I almost danced a jig.