My Little Ramazan - Day Nine

Thurs 19th August 2010

Six days of fasting and today brought my first real dizzy spell. I say that like I’m expecting many more. Which I’m not, especially considering the preposterous amount of garlic bread I ate this evening which could nourish any normal person for several months. But today’s dizzy spell, as I was sauntering down Nairn High Street in a my-child’s-at-nursery-for-the-morning type way, caught me unawares. It was totally out of the blue. Or maybe not. I decided to look at the facts. Could it be caused by:

a.) The fact that my body had not been fed and watered for at least 12 hours?
b.) The excitement of my little boy’s first ever morning at nursery school?
c.) The heat (okay, the ever so slightly tepid temperature) of Nairn High Street?
d.) The sleep pattern interrupted by constant alarm calls to wake and drink large quantities of water?
e.) All of the above?

Regardless of the cause, I did not like feeling dizzy. Not one little bit. Given my already pale complexion, it does not become me. Anyway, I managed to ward off any threat of room-spin with some deep yoga breaths and strategic lying down on the sofa. You know, just to liven things up a bit. Always been the life and soul, me.

And as if that wasn’t enough for one day, when I joyfully picked Baran up from his first ever trip to nursery (where, can I just point out, I was told he’d been an angel all morning), he decided today was National Tantrums Day. Or National Tantrums in Public Day. Or, more accurately, National Tantrums in Public Resulting in Minor Injuries to Ensure Mother Looks Like Neglectful Parent Day. I won’t bore you with the whos, the whys and the hows, just trust me when I say that walls, lamp posts and a herd of passing tourists do not mix well with a toddler in a fury.

At least my toddler wasn’t the only one in a fury. My friend Jenny’s little girl had her first name and surname bellowed out on at least one occasion and any of us who have ever experienced childhood, know that that means real trouble. Jenny and I collapsed back into my flat at the end of National Whatever Toddlers Bloody Well Like Day, grasping for a DVD, any DVD, that might buy us a few moments of peace. And just as I was pondering over how on earth I could find a refreshment that would not have to pass the lips, but still offer maximum satisfaction (impossible, by the way), my Auntie swooped in with a bottle of cold white wine for her and Jenny. Ouch.

So when the little angels were finally tucked up in bed, and the sun had gone down, I had to use my last scrap of willpower to not reach for the bottle too. Mustafa was at work, therefore not around to offer me his usual supportive glances and kind words. Instead I concentrated on the sweet simplicity of cold water. And, to be fair, after this amount of fasting, that’s what my body really wanted.

Oh, and just to set the record straight, Jenny would like to point out that she is a loving mother of a gorgeous two and a half year old girl and would not – as yesterday’s blog might suggest – ever use copious amounts of wine as a regular device to aid relaxation.

She prefers a Pimms.