Alhamdulillah, I’m fasting. I didn’t think I would be able to, and while Day 2 of Ramadan may be a little early to announce success, I’m optimistic that I’ll be able to continue for the entire month, InshaAllah. The heat isn’t bothering me, Alhamdulillah, and neither is the hunger. Even the dehydration is mild despite feeding a seven week old baby.  The only challenge is the sleep. Musfira fussed from 6pm until 1am yesterday. By the time I was able to put her down, I had one-handedly:

• Served iftar
• Eaten Iftar
• Prayed Maghrib
• Had the kids put to bed
• Eaten dinner
• Attempted to clean off the table
• Cooked for suhoor- daal and oatmeal
• Watched three short documentaries and listened to Surah Mulk twice

Yes, all of this was done either one-handed or hastily in between being able to put Musifra down for five to ten minutes before she woke up again.  Sometimes we have weird nights, and sometimes they spill over into weird days as well- Musfira will fuss- tired but refusing to sleep- and I will rock/walk/bounce her to sleep only to have her wake up again five to ten minutes later, regardless of whether I stop rocking/walking/bouncing or even holding her.  Normally, Alhamdulillah, she sleeps easily for four hours at a stretch, and that’s more than enough time for me to get stuff done in between.  Occasionally, she has these weird days, and those are the ones where I never get of my pajamas and Musfira cries, fusses, sleeps, wakes, and cries- later, rinse, repeat- for hour after hour until the sun rises and sometimes even until the sun sets the next day.

So last night was a weird night.  By the time I was able to put Musfira down (1am!) I was too exhausted for any Tarawih or any Qur’an, and had barely any concentration in my prayers.  I crashed into bed and just two and a half hours later, had to get back out of it for Suhoor.  HF kindly got me out of bed, steered me to the kitchen and placed a bowl of oatmeal into my hands as I stood with my eyes closed and my head against the kitchen door.

Then we prayed Fajr and went back to bed, and two hours later, Musfira woke up in need of a diaper change and a feed.  I’m not hungry or thirsty as much as I am tired and, yes- disappointed.  I love Ramadan.  I need Ramadan desperately, in order to counteract the downward spiral I’ve been in for the rest of the year and to help realign myself mentally and spiritually.  Ramadan is the reset button, ideally because you’re conquering your laziness, kicking bad habits, and remembering the sweetness of Ibada- ideally.  In actuality, I’m so busy juggling Musfira, cooking, shopping, taxiing Khalid and Iman around town, and working that I feel like I’m losing out.  My immediate thought is that I need to prioritize extra worship and the energy required to do it, but I’m not doing anything that I can cut out of my schedule.  I need to take time for Ibada, but I don’t know where to take it from.  If I get any less sleep than I already do I’m going to crash.

(Two nights ago I jumped out of bed to pick Musfira up.  I took a wrong turn somewhere along the way and crashed face-first into a corner.  The next morning I had a headache and a swollen eye, and it took a few moments for me to remember why.)

So here’s the reconciliation.   Allah is responsible for any circumstances I am in, and they are all good, regardless of whether I am able to recognize that.  Last night, when I wanted to pray tarawih but instead spent the six hours between maghrib and qiyaam rocking Musfira, there was good in that too.   Ramadan is challenging enough, Ramadan plus young motherhood must be the next level for me.  I need to push through the busy-ness and the tiredness and somehow find the energy that I need to make the most of it.  I’ve always said Ramadan is spiritual boot camp.  Now I’m at bootcamp with a baby on my back, a spatula in my hand, and two children dragging me backwards by my apron strings.  It’s no longer enough for me to reach the end on my own, I have to make it there with a serene smile, clean and alive children, Surah Mulk memorized, and a tray of freshly baked samosas.

May Allah make the path to righteousness easy for all of us, and grant us the trust in Him to know that all of His decrees are good ones.

Ameen!

HF left for Umrah this evening.  We loaded up the minivan with all three kids to drop him off at the airport, even though it was three hours past their bedtime by the time we got home again, because we wanted to give him a proper send-off and to help the kids understand where he was going.  Khalid and Iman were confused, but Iman was happy because she loves this nasheed and was excited to hear that baba was going to the Kabah to pray and drink zamzam.  (ZAMZAM!)

Khalid wasn’t pleased though, and actually started crying on the way home. When I asked him why, his confused answer involved ‘scareding,’ and baba being angry. The gist of it seems to be that baba has left because yesterday Khalid made baba angry when he bit him. Ouch. Tomorrow I’ll write a social story for Khalid and we’ll read it together. I want to reinforce that baba is, indeed, coming back, and didn’t leave because he was mad at Khalid. SubhanAllah.

(Truthfully though, I have no guarantee that HF is coming back.  Not to be dramatic, but people die at Hajj/Umrah every year.  It’s a statistical inevitability: when you put 4 million people together for the world’s largest gathering, there will be mortality rates.  The sick, the old, the people in wrong place at the wrong time when accidents happen- people die in Makkah and Medina, and while it’s sad to lose a loved one, I can’t think of a better place or situation to lose them in.  If I could think of somewhere to die, in sajda in the haram would be my top choice, and if Allah chose to take HF the same way, I would be jealous.  I’m not being morbid, just pragmatic.  We’re all going to die, we might as well try to die awesomely.)

I digress.  I’ll be putting together a big ole dua list for HF.  If you would like your prayers added to the list please let me know and I’ll pass them his way, InshaAllah. May Allah accept his Umrah and make it easy for him.  May Allah forgive us all for our sins, and make us among those earn His pleasure in this life and the next. Ameen.

Darkness lies around him
and watches with dark eyes
whispering suggestions
suggesting lovely lies
the smoothest path is downward
the uphill path is rough
(faith is but a tiny light
but faith is light enough)
a human walks in darkness
he says his eyes are bright
he cannot see his blindness
and his eyes are wide with fright
he says his heart will lead him
but his heart is dark inside
a light once sputtered there
but even that has died.

O you who have believed, respond to Allah and to the Messenger when he calls you to that which gives you life. And know that Allah intervenes between a man and his heart and that to Him you will be gathered.

The Qur’an, Surah Al Anfal, line 24

I thought I would post a quick dua request here.  It is an odd night, and the 27th too.  So more people making dua is good, right?  So what do I ask for?  What if I miss something?  How can I make a quick request that covers every possible situation, need, shortcoming, or deficiency that exists in the world and in every one of its people, living, dead, and yet to come?

اللّهُـمَّ أَنْـتَ السَّلامُ ، وَمِـنْكَ السَّلام ، تَبارَكْتَ يا ذا الجَـلالِ وَالإِكْـرام .

‘O Allah, You are As-Salam and from You is all peace, blessed are You, O Possessor of majesty and honour.’

Allah is He, than Whom there is no other god;- the Sovereign, the Holy One, the Source of Peace (and Perfection), the Guardian of Faith, the Preserver of Safety, the Exalted in Might, the Irresistible, the Supreme: Glory to Allah! (High is He) above the partners they attribute to Him.

Nothing in the world is as important as peace- salam, from As-Salaam, The Source of Perfect Peace.  To be ok with everything, and to have everything be ok.

Ya Salaam, please give us salaam.

Ameen

There are so many things about this talk that I like that I’m not even sure where to begin.  SubhanAllah.

So it’s been a little over two month’s since I’ve updated, which may be the longest I’ve ever gone in the history of this blog.  Ever.  I have an excuse. Well, I have a whole bunch of excuses, so let’s throw some at the wall and see if any of them stick.

The dog ate my blog?

-SPLAT-

Yep, that one looks credible.  Next!

I was scaling a mountain of work when I fell into the crevasse of mommy-related responsibilities and my backpack of bloggingness fell into the bottomless abyss of nonpriority?

Ooh, that was dramatic.  Next!

I haven’t had a housekeeper/nanny for the last month.

Hmmm, that one doesn’t actually sound very credible.  The thing is though- and I know that it’s hard to believe- this is the closest thing I have to a real reason.  It sounds like such a Diva-esque complaint- a great majority of womankind copes without housekeepers- but I have three kids- one with autism, one with a Napoleon complex, and one with only three teeth and cruising- related deathwish.  I have ten employees, a CSR proposal underway, page 31 in Iman’s math book to work her through, and an intake for new parents this Saturday.  But that sounds like whining, so let’s go back to my other excuse.

You should have seen the size of its teeth.  I was running, but then it caught up with me, and I was all like- “Oh no dog, don’t eat my blog!” but the dog was all like “Woof woof. Om nom nom.” And then HF jumped in with his cape and tie blowing dramatically in a gust of hero-related breeze, but then he remembered that he’s weirded out by dogs, so he leapt off-camera and cleaned the house and put the kids to sleep instead.  And that’s been amazing and surprising and lovely and the catalyst for falling in love with him all over again, but it hasn’t been enough to save the blog.

Sorry blog.

But enough with excuses.  I could go on making… err… recounting completely true and valid excuses until the cows came home, but then I would have to stop typing to go milk them because cows don’t milk themselves any more than Musfira changes her own diapers.

The funny thing about being stretched thin is that you become easier to tear- more fragile than usual.  I’m cheerful and productive and maybe only half-frazzled to the point of insanity (see, only half!) but this video made me cry.  And then this video made me laugh out loud with with joy. Wait until they show planets crashing in to each other- that was perfect, amazing- and just mind blowing.  SubhanAllah!

I think these two videos kind of form the bookends of my life right now: Islam and autism.  Being mom fits somewhere in the middle and is an extension of both sides.  You know, like a sort of… spectrum? *rimshot*  I feel rubbed raw on both ends- my own son is doing well by the Grace and Kindness and Greatness of God, but then every new parent I meet renews a sense of desperation, urgency, panic, and fear for the future of a child and I don’t think I ever get very far from the despair of a new diagnosis.  On the other side, I am so, so, so, so, overwhelmingly grateful to be Muslim, to have the small amount of faith I can hold in my heart, and to be able to put the burden of autism and fear down on the floor and whisper Subhana Rabbi Al-Aa’la- Glory to my Lord, Most High.  Allah created autism, He created despair so we could have hope, and darkness so that light could be apparent.  If there is imbalance in this life, it is only allowed to exist for us to learn, and then it will be re-balanced as soon as we die.  I’d happily live without a thumb if I knew I would get both of them back plus a cosmos of eternal gold stars for it in paradise.

I haven’t been feeling very well lately, and being sick while being stressed, over-worked, and overwhelmed has been an additional challenge, but as strange as this is- I’m liking it.  I’m loving it.  I think I may be losing my mind, but there is a sweetness and a closeness in prayer that I have never been able to find or taste except when I am on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  Like how water tastes like life itself- only when you’re dying.

Take a mayonnaise jar. Add oil.  Add water.  Add autism, Islam, Iron, motherhood, diapers, school lunches, and human responsibilities and shake the living daylights out of it. You’ll get a jar of disoriented salad dressing- that label will say:  Abez.

Tadaa!

That’s my update and I’m sticking to it.

By Abez, The End.

Suhaib Webb published an short list of authentic but little-heard hadith here, and three of them really caught my attention.

• “The believer is friendly and likeable*¹  and there is no good in the one who is not friendly nor likeable, and the best of them are the most beneficial to the people.” (Sahih al-Jami)
• “Hellfire has been made forbidden for the eye which wept out of the Fear and Awe of Allah. Hellfire has been made forbidden for the eye which stayed awake and vigilant (through the night) in the Way of Allah. Hellfire has been made forbidden for the eye which looked away from that which has been forbidden by Allah.” (Hakim)
• “Whoever dies and is free from three: arrogance, grudges and debt will enter Paradise.” (Tirmidhi)

The first one made me happy, because in my mortal conceit I consider myself a people person.  The second one made me hopeful, because I am an optimist.  The third made me sad, because I struggle with both debt and grudges.  So now I have something to work towards, InshaAllah.

Last week over breakfast, Khalid sneezed and then said: “Alhamdulillah.  Momma, now you say- Yarhamakullah, and then I say yahdeekumAllahu wa yuslihu balakum.”

You can stare blankly for a moment.  That’s what I did, and then I realized- he’s been reading through every page of the Dua Kids application on my iPhone, and as usual- he’s not just reading it- he’s memorizing it.  It’s not a fast process by any means, Khalid is like a slow, logical locomotive.  Or rather- an intellectual iceberg- most of Khalid goes on way below the surface, and we only occasionally get an idea of how deep he goes.

A few days ago, from the dining table over dinner- he gave me precise road directions to reach Ski Dubai from Abu Dhabi.  Then he ate a french fry.  He asks me the names of the roads we’re driving on, and when I’m wrong he corrects me.  He tells me the interchanges we’ll be driving past before we’ve passed them.  Of course, he still can’t answer simple questions like- Khalid, why aren’t you wearing pants yet?- but he is storing massive amounts of interesting information in his beautiful little head and it comes out in the most hilariously brilliant ways.

And that hilarious brilliance is why I am blogging right now- because I end up forgetting too many of Khalid’s pearls of wisdom, and ten minutes ago, he said one that I want to remember forever.

For a job well done, Khalid and Iman were both awarded two mini marshmallows. Iman, in typical teasing fashion, said: Khalid, I can squash your marshmallows!

Khalid, without even looking up from his trains said, and I quote:

“The Messenger of Allah, salAllahu Alaiha wa sallim said ‘Do not squash marshmallows.”

-end quote-

AllahuAkbar

Oh Allah, thank you for aaaaaaallll the gifts.

Oh Allah, thank you for paradise.

Oh Allah, thank you for aaaaaaallll the children in this life.

Oh Allah, thank you for the nice clothes.

Oh Allah, thank you for aaaaaaallll the buildings

Oh Allah, thank you for aaaaaaallllthe grandmas and nanas.

Oh Allah, thank you for me.

Ameen.

Click here for three minutes of brutally important honesty.

Genghis Khan- conquered Asia and left his eyebrows behind.

My father very proudly says that we are direct descendent of Genghis Khan.  I believe him, and require no other proof than the eyebrows I inherited from my ferocious genealogy.  Regardless of whether I have Genghis Khan’s eyebrows, I definitely have my father’s eyebrows, and while they look perfect on a cuddly, hairy, white-bearded man, they’re a bit out of place on his daughter.

When I was 14, my mother sat me down- unprompted- and did perhaps what blonde ladies do tidy up their eyebrows- she shaved off the top half of them and told me to keep it up.  Being a non-blonde though, my Genghisesque eyebrows started growing back in right away, and I consider myself blessed to have very little photographic evidence of that awkward, stubbly phase.

Noor Jehan is a classic example of classic “bow & arrow” eyebrows.

Later that same year, my sister and I went to spend the summer with our cousins in Pakistan, and being non-blonde descendants of Genghis Khan and his many savvy wives, they said: “What the heck have you done to your eyebrows!?” They staged a proper intervention, and a wise elder cousin immediately sat me down and threaded my eyebrows into the Pakistani equivalent of the bow that was meant to shoot the arrow of my glance straight into a young man’s heart.  That was my introduction to threading.

It was years before I learned that reshaping your eyebrows is not permissible in Islam, but by then, two things had already happened:

1. I had forgotten what my real eyebrows actually looked like.
2. I had grown to believe that my real eyebrows were hideous and that growing them out would cover the top half of my face.

It has taken me almost fifteen years to finally stop reshaping my eyebrows, and for the first time in my adult life, I now know what my real eyebrows look like, because I actually have them. I no longer have “eyebrows,” I have Mybrows.

It was hard at first to stop shaping them- they grew in seemingly random places and kept straying further and further from the invisible boundaries that I had assigned to them.  I would look at myself in the mirror and sigh- and during those months of transition, it was very difficult for me to stick with it.  My one source of encouragement- believe it or not- was my husband, and he had no idea what an emotional ordeal I was even undertaking.

He walked past me one day and casually said; “Hey, have you done something to your eyebrows?”

“What? Me?” I squeaked, my conscience guilty for wishing that it had, “I’m letting them grow in.”

“Oh,” he said approvingly.  ”They look really nice.”

I was dumbstruck.  It was another few weeks before my husband noticed the next boundary grown over, and this time he said, “I like your eyebrows this way.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, “Don’t you remember what they looked like when we were married?”

“I do,” he said. “I thought they looked…fake.”

I glared at him, completely sure that he was somehow part of a conspiracy to pretend like my eyebrows didn’t actually look like caterpillars inching across my forehead.  So I went back and dug my wedding photos out of the important archive that is my sock drawer and guess what? My old, thin, highly manicured eyebrows struck me as looking… fake. And while I wasn’t yet in love with Mybrows, I was at least disillusioned with having their artificial looking alternative.

Sisters talk about eyebrows sometimes, and the conversation usually goes like this:

Helga: delicate. lady-like. pow.

Sister 1: “Oh, my eyebrows are so unruly! I know we’re not supposed shape them but I feel like such a Neanderthal!”

Sister 2: “What are you talking about? Your eyebrows look fine! Now, MY eyebrows… they make Helga’s from Hey Arnold look delicate and lady-like.”

Sister 3: “You’re both crazy and your eyebrows frame your eyes perfectly! Now *my* eyebrows, they look like two handlebar moustaches without a sense of direction…”

The circular consensus seems to be everyone has a real problem with their eyebrows, but everyone ELSE looks fine and they’re just stressing for no reason.  In recent fashion, heavier (relatively) eyebrows have come back into the spotlight, I think this is a great time to piggy-back on the bandwagon and wave the flag for more natural looking eyebrows.

This tumblr account is, simply named- Thick eyebrows, and you can go here for an assortment of gorgeous ladies with luxuriously large eyebrows- models like Cara Delevinge, Brook Shields, even Audrey Hepburn- looking lovely with eyebrows significantly thicker than the media has previously shown us.

While Muslims, of course, don’t wait for fashion to agree with religion before deciding to become religious, it is nice when the media can do a part- even a teeny tiny one- to help boost our natural-looking self esteem when it comes to eyebrows.  Yes, the women are all still uncovered, photo-shopped, artfully painted and arranged by professionals- but the point is, they have big eyebrows and they are daring you to make caterpillar jokes about them.

*filed teeth, anyone?

I haven’t come as far as to say I’m in love with Mybrows, but who am I to even suggest that Allah made a mistake in how He made them?  Allah Himself designed what my face and eyebrows were going to look like, and it should go without saying that His designs for what humans should look like are Divine (with a capital D) and everything else that we do is just “fixing” what isn’t really broken.*

Please note- this doesn’t mean I’m saying that things like cleft palates are Divinely created and who are we therefore to alter them. No.  Defects in the original human design are permissible to correct, and that’s like replacing a lost eye or reconstructing a face after an accident or congenital birth defect.  There’s a difference between correcting a defect to meet the standard and redesigning the standard altogether.

Deciding that all of femalekind has been designed with the “wrong” kind of eyebrows is something else entirely.  But, seeing as how society in general still has a problem accepting women themselves in different shapes and sizes, maybe starting with a tiny part of women- like their eyebrows- is a tiny first step?

In any case, I’m not waiting for society to accept my eyebrows before I do, so here I go.  Alhamdulillah, my eyebrows are perfectly designed for whatever it is that Allah has destined for my face.  Whether my naturally drop-dead gorgeous arches are meant to be a life-long battle with ego whose victory could yield me Jannah, or whether my hirsute forehead is an exercise in accepting the Qadr of Allah that can be rewarded with a place among the Sabiroon in Jannah- either way it’s fine for me.

And since, in the back of your mind, you’ve been wondering what Mybrows actually look like, and you’re looking forward to having that circular conversation where you tell me that my eyebrows are fine and YOU’RE the one who should be in mourning, here you go.

  I’d love to see your natural brows (so I can tell you they look fine), so if you feel like sharing them, I’ll post them here too.  Let the conversation begin.

-Addendum: And here we have some brilliant blue eyebrows from the GCC, thank you to The Salafi Feminist @Anonymousey!

“Although I never plucked my eyebrows since I was well aware of the prohibition to do so, I still didn’t have a great relationship with them for a very long time. Hiding my eyebrows beneath my niqab certainly helped, but that was only in public – whenever I’d look at my reflection in the mirror, there they were: as big, bushy, and rebellious as ever.

The rebellion is what made it suddenly click – if I were to describe myself, ‘rebel’ encompasses a lot of the little things that make up who I am. Coloring in eyebrows is a fashion statement by itself, but as always, I was unsatisfied with just doing what everyone else did… and that’s when I decided that I’d let my eyebrows in on the fun. On the days I feel down or need a personal pick-me-up, coloring my eyebrows blue, green, or purple remind me that my eyebrows are a part of the awesomeness that is me.”

This sister sent in a picture of “Furries” from the UK.  Sister, your eyebrows are lovely.

And here are eyebrows from Dubai, from a sister who wished she had MORE visible eyebrow shape, which just goes to show that the grass is always greener on the other side :p

Allah gave me stones and built me a foundation

I thought I was a tower so I started building high

I thought I’d be a beacon and my height an inspiration

But I came crashing down long before I reached the sky.

So then I took my stones and I looked at my foundation

I thought maybe Allah had willed a fort for me instead

So I stacked what I had left into wide, solid walls

But had to run for cover when they crumbled on my head.

The stones were broken smaller but I still had my foundation

I used new-found humility to build a modest shed

The walls gave under pressure and I into frustration

I was going to leave in tears when I saw instead-

That the fallen stones lay neatly around my strong foundation

And fruits and moss and flowers had grown in lovely rows

And vines with lush green leaves had transformed the debris

That He made my heart a garden, which to this day still grows.

The Prophet  was asked, “O Messenger of Allāh, which of the people are the most sorely tested?” He said:

“The Prophets, then those similar, then those similar. A man will be tested in accordance with his level of faith. If his faith is strong, he will be tested more severely, and if his faith is weak, he will be tested in accordance with his faith. Calamity will keep befalling a person until he walks on the earth with no sin on him.” (Tirmidhi)

Sometimes, when my arms feel especially weak and the bread for dinner seems especially chewy, I feel kind of deflated and end up googling for things like “myopathy experts,” and “where to find help for myopathy.”

Due to things like location and financial constraints, nothing seems useful.  And then I get sad.  Just once, I wish Google’s top result would show “Allah,” because then I would remember that I don’t have to feel sad.  Even though sometimes I want to.

Hasbun Allahu Wa Ni’mal Wakeel

In case I haven’t mentioned this before, I love ABA.  Seriously.  I’m not referring to  table-top flashcard activities, I’m referring to the analysis of behaviour hence- Applied Behavior Analysis.

As part of behaviour analysis, behaviours are broken down into chains of A,B,C- Antecedent, Behaviour, and Consequence.  Basically, the antecedent is what precedes a behaviour, the behaviour is the err… behavior, and the consequence is what follows.  What does this have to do with Ramadan? Well, here’s a Ramadan case study for your analysis.

Subject X has been fasting all day.  As Maghrib approaches, he/she sits down in front of a heavily laden iftar table with a beautiful, aromatic variety of foods and proceeds to drool at them until the azhan is called.  Once the first “Allahu Akbar” wafts melodiously through the window, Subject X proceeds to over-eat.  Unsurprisingly, Subject X is you.

The scenario varies from one fast to another, but the outcome remains the same: you reach over-fullness in record time, going from light and spiritually connected to engorged and close to reflux if you go into sajda too fast. The consequences of your behaviour are weight gain, self-loathing, disappointment, and regret.

You’re dismayed about the weight gain, so you google things like “Losing Weight in Ramadan.”  You find information about clear soups, fruit smoothies, insulin spikes, and lots of information finding fault with your food.  Turn’s out though, it’s not your food’s fault.  It’s your behaviour about food’s fault.

Every day you tell yourself that tomorrow will be different, but every tomorrow you make the same mistakes because guess what- you haven’t had a chance to analyse your behaviour and try to figure out how you can make changes to the repeating cycle of behaviour.  To the ABA!

First, we’re going to define the behaviour.  The behaviour (B) in this scenario is overeating; ie- consuming too many calories- whether through food quantity or caloric density, than your body requires.

Next, we need to identify the  antecedent, or even antecedents, plural. A single behaviour can have multiple antecedents. Different things can lead you to the same outcome- in this case, eating too much.  There’s more than one antecedent to the behaviour of overeating at Iftar, and sometimes at an Iftar party, a half dozen of them can be applicable at the same time.

• At-Home Buffet: Someone’s been slaving over the pot all day, and the result is sixteen different things to taste, and curiosity dictates that you have some of every single dish.
• You’re a Texan at Heart: Your portion sizes are more suitable for hard-working farmhand than a desk-jockey. And we all know you’re a desk jockey.
• You Go to the Source:You eat directly from the serving dish, ie- pakoras or samosas eaten directly from a tray so there’s no portion awareness, let alone portion control.
• You’ve given yourself Carte Blanche: You figure that since you’re fasting you can eat whatever you want, even if it’s deep fried, chocolate dipped, and encrusted with flaming hot cheetos.
• Instant Gratification: Following how long you’ve been delaying the gratification of food all day, you make up for your good behaviour by making up for lost time and eating iftar plus a full meal once the azhan is called.

Overeating as a behaviour (B) are preceded by an antedent (A), and modifying the antecedent (A) is a good way of preventing the behaviour (B), and therefore avoiding the consequence (C) of bloating and regret.

If you’ve ever heard that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, then you  understand the strength of antecedent modification when it comes to changing behaviours.   How does antecedent modifications differ from behavior modification? Behavior modification relies on simply stopping yourself from committing a behaviour, or having someone else stop you.  If you haven’t been able to stop yourself so far, and the people you eat with are just as bad as you are, then good luck relying on that.

So,  let’s go back to our listed antecedents and see how we can modify each scenario to reduce the chances of you overeating.

• At-Home Buffet: If you have a tendency to overeat out of curiosity at home due to the buffet effect, then modify your antecedent by reducing the  number of foods that you put in front of yourself at Iftar.  Have one thing for iftar, and one thing for dinner.  If you’re hungry before bed, have fruit.
• Texan:  If your eyes are bigger than your stomach and your plate is even bigger than your eyes, then change your plate.  Downsize your plate or bowl and allow yourself only one refill. That way your portion is controlled by your plate size even if you’re not able to control it through willpower.
• Eating from the Source:  In the same way we can reach the bottom of a bag of chips without knowing how we even got there, it is possible to be eating samosas and suddenly notice there’s nothing left but a greasy paper towel.  Serve yourself a respectable amount of food and leave the rest in the kitchen. Better yet, put the food back into the refrigerator once you’ve filled your plate. When your plate is empty go pray.  Go directly to pray. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.
• Carte Blanche:  Correcting a carte blanche mentality is a simple matter of math.  A single pound of human fat has 3500 calories in it.   A single slice of cheesecake can have around 1,000.  Just because you haven’t eaten anything since Fajr doesn’t mean that the calories you eat don’t count after Maghrib.   Your body doesn’t care what time it is, food is food and too much makes fat.   Modifying the antecedent of a carte blanche mentality means correcting the misinformation that justifies bad eating habits. Learn more about the calories and nutritional content of your food options to help deter you from making the spectacularly bad food choices that one can really only make while fasting.
• Instant Gratification:  In our rush to compensate for 15 hours of hunger, we eat way too fast, and unless we’ve served ourselves in the kitchen first- we eat faster than our stomachs can think.  It takes around 20 minutes to register that you’ve eaten enough, so slow down and pace yourself.  One way to do this is to break your fast with a glass of water and a handful of dates ONLY- and then go pray Maghrib.  It may only take you five to seven minutes, but it will be more than enough to tame the wild-eyed beast.

Now, if we were to combine all the antecedent modifications to Iftar, a nearly Fail-Proof Iftar could be constructed as such:

Five minutes before Iftar, you take two noticeably smaller plates and head to your kitchen.  On one plate, you put a few dates- maybe a fig and a cracker.  On the other plate, you put a regular size serving of dinner.  You take the dates to the table and leave the dinner in the microwave.

As you’re waiting for the azhan, you focus on dua (and not the food, since all the food is in another room anyway).  Once the azhan is called, you drink a glass of nice cold water, you savour your dates (and fig and cracker) and then you LEAVE THE TABLE.

You do wudu or rinse your mouth.  You pray maghrib.  You make dua.  Then, you come back to the kitchen and microwave your single, normal-sized portion of dinner.  You bring it back to the table and eat.  Then you leave the table again, ideally taking your dishes with you.  The end.

It’s seems almost insultingly simple, but the jist of the matter is that you can’t overeat if you’re not given the opportunity to, and preventing yourself from the opportunity can be the next best thing ig you haven’t been able to overcome the behavior.

Yes, there will be times when you eat out at other peoples’ houses and there will probably be way too much food- but every time you manage to control your stomach at home, you build more control and more discipline.  If you reach a point where you become unaccustomed to overeating at home, there’s a good chance it won’t be such an easy backslide when you’re out, InshaAllah.

So that’s it.  As long as you stick to the system or portion control, single serving, and healthy choices made AWAY from the serving dish, there’s really no way you can mess up as long as you don’t sneak into the refrigerator later.

May Allah give us all the strength- not to lose weight- but to gain discipline over ourselves in Ramadan that begins with the stomach and continues to the other parts of our bodies that need it too.  Ameen.