Here’s something to help you with that Green-Eyed Monster

It’s school award season and I’ve been watching something with interest.

On the one hand, you have the proud parents posing with their children and the congratulatory comments from happy friends. Then there’s the ugly flip-side as the parents whose children did not win the big awards, turn to their friend’s Inboxes to whisper their conspiracies.

Yip, the Green-eyed monster is alive and well!

I have not engaged: Neither to post about my children’s achievements, nor to throw shade where invited.


Well, it’s easy for me: I have a little symbol to whack me back into line.

This little symbol has always brought me back in line, helping me to ground myself in humility and also to avoid the temptation to compare. Photo by Jumana Dakkur

The Evil-Eye is traditionally a symbol to guard against jealousy but I use it as a note to self.

The one I wear on my arm is my daily reminder:

  • Don’t boast – Nobody likes a show-off
  • Don’t draw unnecessary attention to your home/relationship/material bountyEnvy is a biatch
  • Run your race and let other people run theirs – It’s a win-win
  • Count your own blessings and there will be no time to focus on other people’sGratitude 101

I’ve also learned from watching with interest how my muslim friends respond to a compliment (whether it be about their looks or the talents of their children) with the response,  Masha’Allah, that is, “God has willed it”. Don’t you love that show of humility?

Perhaps this will inspire you the next time you find yourself edging towards the territory of the Green-eyed one again? It’s always good to remember that blowing out someone else’s candles never makes ours shine any brighter,


**If you’d like to learn more about The Evil Eye, I found this Wikipedia entry quite interesting:,person%20when%20one%20is%20unaware.

I also love that there’s finally an evil-eye emoji!:-)

Sweeping Things Under the Carpet (A story about leading by example)

My 2 year old took a tub of black eye shadow and sprinkled it all over our cream bedroom carpets. He didn’t spill. He sprinkled. Liberally.



I was very upset. And the look on his face told me that he understood how I felt about his “magic dust”. 



After I calmed down, I took a small Persian rug and threw it over the black marks.  Out of sight, out of mind you know?



While I took a shower to try and calm down (it was too early for wine), my son called for help from his most trusted ally and together they got busy with Operation Clean-up.  They had it all figured out:

  1. Soap (Green dish liquid)
  2. Water (poured into a nearly empty cranberry juice bottle)
  3. Sponges x 2
  4. Tell Mama the good news
  5. Ask Mama if the sushi date was still on


Well, the 7 or so dry stains turned into one giant wet puddle of green/cranberry and MAC Carbon Black.



So, my daughter tells me (behind her brother’s back), they abandoned their mission after Step 3 and followed my example.  They took a rug and covered up the catastrophe.  Out of sight, out of mind you know?  



Well, let me tell you, I took the darlings for sushi.  Right after that shower.




I figured that some things are indeed best left swept and left under the carpet.



Besides, what’s a childhood without memories of “magic dust” anyway?


© A Heart Full of Stories, 2016


Aluta continua, as they say. This parenting road is indeed still long…. (for me) but gosh it can be funny sometimes.



Those are NOT my undies

The clown called for volunteers.  Of course I stuck my hand up!  


I was 10 years old and the stage wasn’t scary to me anymore.  I had some practice being up there.   I had read something about Paul and the Colossians at the assembly the previous week.  I waved at my best friend and she waved back.Things were looking good.


The clown started by making animals from balloons.  The kids laughed.  I did too.


Then, came the main event.


He started by doing some “magic” and then he held something pink in his hand.  He called for kids to guess what it was.


After allowing all sorts of “wrong” answers to be screamed out, he revealed the truth.


It was a panty.  A huge pink panty.


And, it was supposed to be MINE!


The kids really laughed!!


I did not find it funny at all but I laughed too.   


I knew that it did not belong to me.  I was at a Catholic school and we all wore the standard thick, navy blue issue. (Well, at least the rule followers did).  But, that didn’t mean that the kids knew this.


They assumed that I was starkers!  And, it hurt.  I walked off the stage humiliated.  I went straight to the loo, to check if my undies were still there and also to cry.


My granny heard about this.  She put her silver hair in a bun, powdered her face, put on her pearls and walked straight into the principal’s office.  She never told me what they talked about.  It did not matter.


I told myself that I would NEVER volunteer for anything again.  The next morning, the principal asked for someone to carry the box of keys from school to the church every day.  Traditionally, this was the job reserved for the head prefect.  I was 3 years too young.  But, guess who stuck their little hand in the air again?  Yip!


I carried that box proudly every day.


That was my training.  My training to stretch myself to do uncomfortable and scary things. 


What are the things YOU wish you could stick your hand up to do?  I can tell you honestly, that even if kids think you have no undies on, you can still be president.


Go on!