Huffy's posts

Little Birdie Project

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Dear Whippples Fans,

I want to take a moment to update you on my writing projects. Although I have paused on posting Whippples short stories (promise I’ve been making lists – lots more to come!), I have been focusing all my energy on a children’s book – written by my son and I.

Little Birdie Project: Our vision began as multiple bedtime stories. One day my son (Ayaan, now 7) insisted he wanted to read our stories at his library – even after I told him they’re just in our heads. So we decided to bring our visions to life and officially kicked off our Little Birdie Project.

We wrote down all our stories, then picked our favorite one: Little Birdies Lose their Colors. We had such a fun time creating the artwork together. Now everything is with graphic and Web designers, and we plan to launch print and digital versions of our book this fall.

Foreword: Little Birdies Lose their Colors is a story that encourages self-identity, diversity, individuality and eating healthy. These topics can be difficult to approach and discuss. By joining the little birdies on their journey, everyone can talk about important issues openly and honestly. This children’s book simplifies complicated topics and brings everyone back to the basics of peacefully embracing and appreciating each other.

Dedicated to:

Ayaan, Azeem and our Angel: Nothing is impossible. Reach for the stars. Make your dreams happen. Always.

All the children in the world: May we all live in a world that’s accepting of everyone’s identities, colors, ethnicity, cultures, religions and beliefs in unity and in peace—and may we all rise above any barriers together.

Thank you for your continued readership, engagement and interest. We are so excited to be on this journey with you!

We hope the story and book will be as incredibly educational, inspiring and rewarding for you as the creative publishing process has been for us.

Stay tuned for more updates, coming soon!

Best,

Hafsa

Stories

Blue line

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Ryan was a fabulous three-year-old.

Although he had tons and tons of fun at school, he still had separation anxiety when his parents initially dropped him off at his new school for the day.

To help with the morning routine and transition, Ryan’s parents were making a conscious effort to encourage the rules of the classroom inside their home, as well as some of the activities.

Ryan’s mom left him in his playroom for some creative play time while she went to get him a snack.

When she got back, there was a gigantic blue circle—practically the size of the entire room—drawn on the white carpet with a marker.

“Look mommy!” Ryan said excitedly. “It’s the blue line, just like the one at school! Now we can all sit down on it in a circle and talk!”

 

Rebecca King, owner of Crystal Clean (A company that cleans homes, offices and bakeries)

“With marker on your carpet, Resolve is your best bet,” she said. “You’ll also need a scrub brush. And maybe a little salt.”

Rebecca also said multiple applications may be needed.

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this short story, excluding interviews, are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Huffy's posts

Whippples update

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Dear Whippples fans,

I want to take a moment to update all my followers about my writing. While I have still been working on some fresh Whippples stories for you all, which are coming soon, my focus for 2018 has been putting together manuscripts for a handful of children’s books. I have finally wrapped up this project and sent content over to the publishers. I’ll keep you posted on progress!

In the meantime, I want to thank you for continuing to read and follow my blog and stories. I promise I’ll have some new, fun stories posted very soon!

Best regards,

Hafsa

Stories

The very hungry kid at the pumpkin farm

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The pumpkin farm field trip was always one all the kids looked forward to.

Chaperones looked forward to it, too. The online sign-up sheet was always full within a couple hours.

Miss Dina, Jacob’s mom, was excited to go again. When she got to her son’s kindergarten class, she was surprised she only had two kids to watch, and one was her own. Last year she had a total of four. She went with the flow and gladly got to know Jimmy, an absolutely adorable, slightly chubby little kid.

The teacher gave each chaperone two snacks for each kid to eat at the farm.

On the bus ride to the farm, Jimmy asked Miss Dina only six times if he could have his snack.

“Jimmy, we’re not allowed to eat on the bus,” she said. “It’s not safe, and we can choke.”

As soon as the kids walked into the pumpkin farm, Jimmy asked for his snack again.

“Mary, when do the kids eat their snacks? Jimmy has asked for his a few times and seems hungry,” Miss Dina asked the teacher.

“Oh, Jimmy tends to do that,” Miss Mary said. “They can have their snacks now, that’s fine.”

By the time Jacob was about a third through his snack-sized pouch of Teddy Grahams, Jimmy requested his second snack. Miss Dina gave him his fruit snacks.

When Jacob asked for his second snack, Jimmy asked for his third. But the teacher had only given everyone two.

“Jimmy, there are no more snacks. Everyone gets two,” Miss Dina said. “I know it’s only 9:30 a.m., but we’ll have to wait until we get back to school. You can each your lunch then.”

As Jacob slowly ate his fruit snacks, Jimmy watched him closely, staring at the fruit snacks entering Jacob’s mouth from about eight inches away.

Throughout the farm’s activities – hay rides, moon-jumpers, corn maze and more – Jimmy continued to ask for another snack. Miss Dina continued to give the same response.

Jimmy also seemed to find food throughout the farm.

“Mmmmmm,” said Jimmy. “It smells like hot dogs!”

“Hot dogs? Oh, I think those are apple cider donuts, Jimmy,” Miss Dina said.

There was even a humongous Big Bird, and all the kids kept screaming his name out of excitement.

Jimmy got excited about something else.

“Look! Ice cream!” he yelled pointing to the cone in Big Bird’s hand.

After the whole class traveled through all the different stations of the pumpkin farm, it was time for them to take a group picture and head back to their school. As they exited the farm, they also got a 4-inch pumpkin to take home.

As Jimmy was handed his pumpkin, he took a giant bit into the thick stem.

“Jimmy! Honey! We don’t eat the pumpkin yet, and we certainly don’t ever eat the stem!” Miss Dina said shocked.

“Oh, man. But I’m so, so hungry,” Jimmy said.

“OK Jimmy, we’re heading back to school now and you can eat your lunch soon, but definitely don’t eat any part of your pumpkin until your mom can at least prepare it for you – however she’d like,” Miss Dina said.

When they were a couple stop lights away from the school, Jimmy sneakily managed to lick his pumpkin four times.

 

Holly Danielson, Manager at Goebbert’s Farm & Garden Center in South Barrington, Illinois

Kids can make pumpkin pie with pie pumpkins we grow and send home, which are usually the size of a 14-inch softball,” Holly said.

“And with any pumpkin, kids can carve the pumpkins. Then roast and eat the seeds,” she said.

“Pumpkins are a good take-home for the children,” Holly said. “They can go home with something we grew here at the farm, which teaches kids where their food comes from and that whole process.”

 

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this short story, excluding interviews, are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

 

Stories

Missing laundry pieces

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Melissa did the laundry at least a couple times a week at her Manhattan condo.

She was thankful her place was tiny enough that things wouldn’t go missing very often.

But it was simply a matter of time. Eventually, her toddler daughter’s socks went missing—one sock each from two different pairs.

Melissa searched and searched for the two socks for more than a week with no luck. She was convinced the laundry machine ate them.

About two months later, Melissa was putting her daughter, Abby, to bed when Abby felt a tiny bump under her bedsheet. The two lifted the sheet and found one of Abby’s socks rolled up in a ball.

Melissa was excited at least one sock had been found, and now she was motivated to find the last missing sock.

The next day, Abby came home from school and was playing with her toys. Melissa came by and told Abby to change into her pajamas. As she did, she saw something red in Abby’s sweatshirt’s hoodie.

It was the other missing sock! It traveled in Abby’s hood all day throughout Manhattan and miraculously stayed put.

The socks were a tiny bit small on Abby now, but Melissa was relieved that they were at least found.

 

Li Chen, an employee at BKM Laundromat in Manhattan, New York:

“Whenever we find something we always put it on the side for the customer,” Li said.

The most common things Li and her team usually find are little socks and little under-things.

“People usually lose small things,” she said.

 

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this short story, excluding interviews, are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Huffy's posts

After losing a baby, parents feel loss—and gain—on bittersweet Father’s Day

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The below article was published in the Chicago Tribune on June 13, 2017.

While my situation was tough and unique, it was also very common. Unfortunately, for some reason society somewhat discourages discussing these topics. I was happy to write the piece, and happy to see a positive response and touched hearts.

After losing a baby, parents feel loss—and gain—on bittersweet Father’s Day

By Hafsa Naz Mahmood

Chicago Tribune

Mother’s Day was especially emotional for me this year, and now I’m mentally preparing for Father’s Day — knowing it’s my turn to be strong for my husband.

On Mother’s Day, I celebrated being a mom to my incredible, amazing and perfect 4-year-old son. Simultaneously, I mourned the loss of my other son, who passed away in my belly at five months in late February after my water broke spontaneously.

I am at peace with what happened, and I know there’s nothing anybody could have done to prevent the incident. I clearly remember going to the 20-week ultrasound with my husband and the doctor shaking our hands, firmly congratulating us on our healthy baby. We were told everything was perfect, and the chances of anything happening at that point were less than 1 percent.

We were the less than 1 percent, as my water broke the next morning.

My first pregnancy went past 40 weeks. We had our son at a Chicago hospital. With him, my water never broke. But when it did break during my latest pregnancy, I knew exactly what had happened. I also knew it was way, way too early.

The doctors were all shocked, especially since I had no history of what’s called preterm premature rupture of membranes, or PPROM.

My husband and I waited patiently at a suburban hospital for four days as I drank gallon after gallon of water, hoping the baby’s amniotic fluid would replenish. We didn’t know what to do. Ultrasounds showed there was no more water left in my belly for our sweet baby, whose heartbeat was strong. We waited for labor to begin naturally, but it didn’t.

Slowly, I started to feel our sweet boy struggling. Every day, the kicking inside my stomach got stronger and stronger, and more intense. He couldn’t survive without water. And even if any amniotic fluid were produced, it wouldn’t accumulate because of the ruptured membranes.

Doctors told us the amniotic fluid is what develops the baby’s lungs, brain, vision, hearing — pretty much everything. Our baby still had 20 weeks to go. Outside of my belly, he wouldn’t have been able to survive for more than a couple of minutes.

I had to prepare — mentally and physically — to give birth to our sweet boy. And I knew that baby would not be coming home with us.

Typically, babies need to be delivered within 24 hours of a woman’s water breaking to avoid risking infection. Doctors informed us there were several women who waited a week or more after their water broke who were on their deathbeds due to fatal infections that compromise the life of the mom.

As I was feeling weaker, I felt baby kicking harder and harder, practically begging to end his misery. Eventually the intense, yet gentle, kicks stopped. Completely. I knew baby boy had passed away inside my belly.

This led to my having to do the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life. I delivered our sweet, angel baby. Autopsy results showed that he was indeed perfect, just as my doctor had said at the 20-week ultrasound.

My loving, supportive husband and I went home from the hospital a day later without our bundle of joy — holding each other’s hands instead of those of our new baby.

Despite our loss, we tried to focus on what we had: the most precious boy waiting for us to get out of the hospital and join him at home — and to continue our fun-filled days together.

Our 4-year-old had lots of questions for us. It took all my courage and every single broken piece of me to tell him his baby brother really, really wanted to stay with us, but he instead went up to heaven and is playing in the skies.

“No way!” Our kiddo responded, completely shocked.

He then looked into my tear-filled eyes with utmost love.

“Don’t worry, Mommy,” he said. “I will stay with you.”

We did a small burial for our teeny, tiny, 1-pound, 13-inch-long precious boy, who will remain a part of our hearts forever.

After being home for only two days with just enough time to participate in the funeral, I became very ill with a 103-degree fever, infection and shaking chills. I was in the hospital for another several days for surgery and treatment. Preterm labor infections are no joke.

Finally, exactly two weeks after my doctor firmly shook our hands congratulating us on baby No. 2, we were home. I had a void in my heart and 20 pounds of pregnancy weight to lose.

I am at peace with what happened. I know we did everything we could to nurture, protect and care for our baby boy — as any loving parents would. Loss is an entire emotion that I had thankfully never really encountered before. It’s as if I now have a sixth or seventh sense, truly understanding loss.

I know my second son is in a much better place now. Throughout the past few months, my husband and I have become stronger individuals with an even more positive perspective on life. We’ve truly and graciously been enjoying every minute with our 4-year-old, but not a day goes by without thinking of our other sweet baby’s short life.

Life is a gift. I hope my husband and I remain blessed, well and able to celebrate and appreciate both of our precious boys every Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. We take solace knowing we were given the opportunity to be parents to two beautiful souls.

Whether you have kiddos or dads that make you smile daily, whether you’ve lost a child at any age, whether you’ve lost your dad, or if you’re an aspiring dad, happy Father’s Day to you from the bottom of my heart.

Hafsa Naz Mahmood is a freelance writer.

Stories

Stinky stinks

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A young dad, Danny, was driving while his toddler was in the back seat. A stinky smell of a skunk who had just sprayed nearby quickly took over his SUV.

“Ugh! Smells like a skunk!” he said.

Several months later, he was driving with his toddler son, Aiden, and it happened again.

“Eew! It smells like skunks, daddy!” Aiden said.

Danny agreed, but wondered how Aiden knew what a skunk smells like. He then recalled the last incident and laughed it off.

Later that same day, Danny and Aiden went to run an errand at Nordstrom Rack. While the two were preparing to leave, Danny saw a man rush into the store and head for the men’s cologne section. As Danny and Aiden were exiting the store, the same man rushed out of the store with them.

“Eeewww daddy! It smells like skunks!” Aiden said loudly.

Danny couldn’t help himself and laughed pretty loud.

“Does it, bud?” he asked Aiden, not knowing how to respond or apologize to the gentleman.

“Yes daddy! Like lots and lots of skunks!” Aiden confirmed.

Danny and Aiden made it back to their car. As they drove off, the same gentleman was making his way back into the store for more cologne.

Or perhaps a different cologne.

 

Mario Lazano is a professional animal trapper at Animals Happen in Lisle, Illinois

While on the topic of skunk smells, for horrendous skunk smells, Mario suggests two things.

First, a solution made of baking soda, peroxide and soap. This will work on mostly anything, including humans, dogs, windows, concrete, etc. However, since skunk odor penetrates, the smell may still linger even after cleaning with the solution.

Second, an ozone generator – which is a machine that sends electric currents through and destroys odor molecules.

 

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this short story, excluding interviews, are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Stories

Work space etiquette (Part II)

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When work is busy, many grab lunch and eat at their work space.

Berta, the intern, brings home-cooked food and warms her meals in the lunchroom microwave. Whiffs and traces of her lunch spread throughout the office as she makes her way back to her desk.

Luna, the tenured, full-time employee, eats her Subway sandwich, trying to focus on her own food’s flavor – all while trying to work.

Next, Berta pulls out a whole apple. As Luna tries to complete a project on deadline, she hears the intern taking loud bites out of the apple.

When Luna looks over at Berta, she sees juice splashes sprinkle the intern’s work space. The intern continues to enjoy chewing on crispy apple bites with her mouth open. Several co-workers hear the munching. Nobody says anything.

As Berta finishes the apple and strong-smelling contents in her container, she dumps all remnants into Luna’s garbage can. Apparently, Berta never got one of her own and was afraid to ask for one.

 

Sheila Valesano, Corporate Human Resources leader who resides in Illinois

Eating and proper disposal of food is another office space etiquette issue, Sheila said.

“Some companies have published instructions about this,” she said. “Signs read ‘Don’t put food into waste basket,’ or ‘Only dispose of garbage in the lunch room.’”

As company protocol, all food refuge items are usually kept in one area that’s heavily monitored for pest control, Sheila said. If garbage disposal isn’t monitored by the company, it becomes an issue.

Proper garbage disposal gets particularly bad around lunch time, when a lot of different food odors come together,” Sheila said. “It can be offensive.”

 

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this short story, excluding interviews, are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Huffy's posts

Letter: A plea for peace as Ramadan ends

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The below content was printed in the Chicago Tribune newspaper’s “Voice of the People” section on Sunday, July 3, 2016.

Being a first-generation Muslim while growing up in Naperville, I remember putting henna (temporary art) on the palms of my hands to celebrate Eid, a Muslim holiday that takes place twice every calendar year.

This was way back when nobody knew about Eid or henna. Teachers used to tell kids to stop drawing on their hand with orange marker — and to go to the bathroom to wash it all off. Too bad it was semi-permanent for up to a week.

Now, at 33, Ramadan — a month of fasting from sunrise to sunset without any water or food — is coming to an end and Eid al-Fitr is approaching. Unfortunately, I’m a bit sad for two major reasons:

First, I’m sad because fasting reminds me of all the less fortunate Muslims, Christians, Jews and people of all faiths who live in poverty, don’t have food to eat or are living in war zones. Every year, fasting shows me how little food our bodies actually need to keep going and how fortunate I am to have two to three peaceful meals daily. Many around the world don’t even get one.

I’m also sad because of all the global violence. During Ramadan, we had a horrible massacre in Orlando and a large terrorist attack in Istanbul. Both fatal incidents left hundreds injured and dozens dead.

What’s also a shame is that the people behind these attacks call themselves Muslims. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, because Islam teaches peace, not violence. Islam teaches helping your neighbors, not hurting them. Islam encourages people to be kind, not evil.

This Eid, I plan to share food, desserts and toys with locals who are less fortunate. Additionally, I would like to extend a warm, whole-hearted Eid Mubarak greeting to people of all faiths and religions. Together, by accepting and loving each other for our differences, let’s take baby steps toward worldwide peace. It all starts at home.

— Hafsa Mahmood, Chicago

Stories

Work space etiquette (Part I)

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Asking questions is usually a good thing. Often a sign of intelligence.

Unfortunately, not in Berta’s opinion. Being a new intern, she felt asking her manager questions would imply she doesn’t know everything. Instead, she decided to ask an experienced colleague – Luna.

Berta rolled her chair over to Luna’s desk. When Berta was directly next to Luna, she whispered Luna’s name, preparing to ask her a question.

Luna, who had her headset on, looked up and kindly put up her index finger – indicating she’s in the middle of a call.

Berta smiled. Instead of rolling back to her desk until Luna was done, Berta decided to wait at Luna’s desk until she got off the phone.

In the interim, Berta started reading Luna’s computer screen, her post-it notes, calendar, notebook and other documents on her desk –  quite shamelessly.

Luna, still on the phone, finally put the conference call on mute and told Berta to wait at her own desk.

“I’ll let you know when my call ends,” Luna said.

 

Sheila Valesano, Corporate Human Resources leader who resides in Illinois

“This is a common problem that occurs in offices now,” she said.

Sheila suggests putting important papers faced down, and putting computer screens on a public page when people visit your desk.

“On other side of coin, if you’re going into someone’s office space, don’t read their papers,” she said. “It’s rude, it’s unprofessional. It’s not your work – it’s someone else’s personal work.”

 

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this short story, excluding interviews, are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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