Bad Mother Day(s)

So the new job started this week and has been AMAZING in every aspect that I could have asked for. My boss is one of those amazingly strong wonder women who walk around spurting inspiration without any effort, it is such a  blessing to have a mentor in her. I have one of my oldest and dearest friends working with me, my own office and lots of freedom and space to grow this position in whichever way I choose. It’s stimulating, exhausting and never EVER boring. I honestly can’t say that this is the best gig I’ve ever had….I just hope the shine doesn’t wear off too soon b/c the first week was all sorts of sensational.

And with that, my little boy got sick..my first day of work…like super duper, coughing, feverish, “how-on-earth-will-his-little-body-survive-this” sick. Talk about worst timing EVER. And I made the decision to keep going to work everyday. My mom watched him during the day and my husband was my hero in shuttling my baby back and forth between his own meetings. Luckily, Auzi wasn’t that bad during the day, it was one of those croup-like viruses that really grow to scary proportions at night and you survive the night with small slits of rest only to wake up dazed in the morning, wondering if you dreamed up the whole night-mare.

But the guilt was crippling for me. As I went through my days having 6 meetings a day, meeting with photographs for my pictures and intros, setting up my office and getting the general lay of the land, every personal career affirmation or pride I felt was tainted with the “bad mother guilt”…even though I knew my son was in capable and loving hands, I could not shake the feeling of “what is WRONG with me….I should be at home with my baby”. Talking to numerous working moms, they all assured me that this was something that would have been inevitable and that my little family was stronger for having endured it my first week back at work. I hope they were right and that we’ve completed our Murphy’s Law quota for a long, long time.

i wish i were more…myself

i’ve been in the process of writing this post for a while now but the first sentence keeps alluding me. so now that THAT is out of the way, here’s the meat: i’ve moved back to houston and the experience has been… indescribable. I have been happy, happy, happy and then suddenly, really lost and reclusive. It seems that i can’t shake this gloomy London cloud hovering over my head and as i’ve struggled with this the past few months, i’ve decided to throw myself back into a professional career at the University. I officially start on Monday and as I spend the last few days …as a recluse, i am so excited and then beyond nervous …what if i can’t juggle these rolls successfully?What if i simply can’t juggle at all?!  Which ball will i have to drop ….how will i manage to stay “ON” for 9 hours a day and then still come home with energy and mindfulness? But then i’m really excited…this has to be the most exciting career choice i’ve ever made but then what if i end up loving it more than my family? 

The irony of getting older is that no matter how much insight and wisdom you achieve with each year, the grown-up problems and internal struggles you tackle with grow alongside. I feel more timid about walking into new situations and miss my audaciousness more than anything else….and as i embark on my old new life in houston, i wish i were more myself because i don’t k now why, as i’m happily enjoying the beautiful sunny summer and autumn months with my loved ones, something always just yanks me out for a brief moment, and i’m walking all alone through frigid london wind again. so yes, i wish i were more myself lately.

 

 

I see you everywhere i go…

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Karachi Picture Post…

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“where are you? where are you going?”

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so after the teaser visit to London, I ended up in Karachi to spend some time with the in-laws and mend a somewhat broken heart before the start of my husband’s semester in October. It was the absolute best thing that could’ve happened to my little family since leaving the big bear hug Houstonians wrapped us around in for a good 6-weeks before departing left us all feeling bewildered, isolated and utterly pessimistic upon arrival into London.

So …as many things are there are to be said about karachi, you can’t say it’s ever dull. With the mandatory bout of food poisoning out of the way, the city has also settled down it’s boisterous welcoming of us by not having any more local politician assassinations or bus burnings though the gas stations are quite timid and shut down at the slightest news of altercations nearby (but wouldn’t your knees buckle too at the thought of an angry mob setting you ablaze, just because…) And then there are the local bouts of typhoid and malaria making the rounds around the city which leave me with goosebumps every time I hear a new story and wonder how I can protect the health of my only child without turning into a zealot?

And yet, I’m having a really great time here….how can i not? There are too many friends and family members that I need to still visit, too many coffee dates that I keep turning down, leisurely long discussions with sister-in-laws that follow us through meals, rooms and even days (how luxuriously beautiful it is to have other women reside in the same home as you), Auzi is absolutely beside himself having found a live-in brother-cousin who has the biggest heart of any 3 year old I’ve seen and the husband is thrilled to be spending real quality time with his parents and brothers….and in the middle of the ridiculous amount of activities we do every single day, I don’t have a single second to miss my family or friends. So i don’t get online, i don’t text anyone, i just wake up and rush through the day, trying to keep up with where it will take me. Which isn’t too far or too exciting but the comfort of it lulls away my anxiety at what’s to come and much more importantly, what i’ve left behind.  So how can I not roll my eyes when a well-intentioned (and even more well-loved) friend emails wondering why the hell i’ve ended up in the most dangerous city in the world for six weeks? Karachi is nothing short of contradictions but as with any place anyone loves, isn’t it always about the people? And if we could ferry away all of our loved ones to an island in the sun (green album? anyone? anyone?) would it really matter if the city wasn’t called Houston? Or London? or Karachi?

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