My Little Ramazan - Day Eleven

Sat 21st August 2010

Well, things in my little world of Ramazan took an interesting turn today. It’s been nagging away at me – or should I say burning away – for the last couple of days, but I chose to ignore it in fear of appearing to be a bad non-Muslim wife of a Muslim. But today, during my morning ablutions, I had to face facts. I had a lady problem.

The ladies among you will sympathetically piece the evidence together and work out exactly what I mean. The gentlemen among you will flit across these paragraphs and work out roughly what I mean, without asking any further questions. The perverse among you will want sordid details – well you’re not getting them. We all know the score and we all know it’s just not nice. Self inflicted perhaps, but just not nice.

So today I had to come to my own satisfactory compromise. Mustafa, being the ever-loving husband, just wants me to be well and therefore relieved me of all Ramazan requirements. Meaning I could gorge myself silly and get back in touch with those good old friends Ben and Jerry. But just hold on a cotton-picking second. Was this not all about supporting my husband in his sacred ritual? Was this not about sharing the challenge together? And what’s more, have I learned anything about discipline yet? I just don’t feel ready to throw in the towel.

Plus there’s another twenty blogs in me yet.

So I decided to allow myself water again. And cranberry juice to help remedy this unfortunate situation. I cannot tell you how much easier this day has been as a result. Yes, there have been hunger pangs a plenty but my energy levels would rival those of Mr Tumble himself. And not only that, but I have reached Super Mum status again. Tantrums have been at a minimum, three square meals have been presented and eaten, play fights on the floor have made an appearance once again and all of the dishes are done. No, not just done, gleaming. Plus we had our first ever trip to the funfair. There’s nothing like whirling round on a yellow MDF aeroplane, fearing for one’s life and shouting ‘Flyeeeee’, especially when it’s the first time Baran has ever said that word. I think I’ll go to sleep tonight hearing it.

It really is amazing what proper hydration can do for the body. Okay, so it’s no secret that we need water just as much as we need oxygen, but isn’t it incredible that we dick about day to day, going from one thing to the next, completely and absolutely taking for granted the miracle that is the human body? Give us air and we breathe. Give us light and we flourish. Give us water and we thrive. Give us love and we . . . randomly undertake unthinkable challenges that inflict rather nasty peeing issues.

And because my body was on such an all time high from overdosing on water and cranberry juice, my mind was on serious ‘to-do list’ overdrive. Efficiency just isn’t the word. Most of my day (funfair aside) was focused around my friend Jenny and I getting our little ones into bed in time for the uninterrupted viewing of the X Factor. Not only did we achieve that, but the sweet potato wedges were sizzling away and all other accompanying dishes were chilling in the fridge ready for their unveiling at precisely 8.48pm. I was incredibly proud of myself when all of the food was beautifully displayed on the coffee table with exactly one minute to go. And when Simon Cowell said “That’s the best thing I’ve seen all day, you’re in” I did imagine he was speaking to me.

It was only when Jenny looked at me like I’d laid plates of fried snot on the table and asked me what I was doing that I sensed Mr Cowell might have meant someone else. I looked at my watch. 7.47pm. Pants.

So, because I had already decided this was about supporting my husband, demonstrating love and – the biggie – discipline, I sat back and watched Jenny tuck in whilst I waited for another hour and one minute. Not as excruciating as you might think. I had, after all, experienced ‘excruciating’ several times in the bathroom today. And I had my cranberry juice.