Category Archives: Drama Queen

U is for Ullu

I am an Ullu  – for my non Hindi readers Ullu is an owl! 

Say hello Finland, Russia and Mauritius and oh you from Australia too. I see you !! 

Of all the talents the Ullu has – the one I wanted the most is the ability to swivel my neck 360 degrees. Just imagine what fun I would have if I was standing in a bus and someone got too close, I could just turn 180 degrees and stare at them right back! How freaky and how cool would I be.

Anyway, instead of that my only ullu-ness ability is being a nocturnal animal. It’s ridiculous !  

I really really want to sleep early. Yo know be those ideal early to bed and early to rise types – the ones who have a high pony tail at 6 am and are all ready to run. Instead I go to sleep when most of these enthu cutlets are waking up.

Don’t think I am not aware of the conspiracy theory. The world is keeping me up to ensure the safety of the world. You know make sure it is spinning on its axis the right way or make sure the ghosts are staying in their own universe. And as a responsible citizen I stay up. So as the world sleeps I do night chowkidari (night watchman). 

The husband will not let me read before I sleep because apparently the light affects his precious sleep. The elf makes the afternoon conducive to mama taking a short 15 min nap so that she won’t sleep early again. This is the time when he raids the fridge for chocolates or pours out all our lotions into the sink.

And you tv programming people, I spend the whole day wondering what to watch on tv – how the hell do I find stuff after 11 so exciting. Why are you doing this to me.

And mr jobs – smart phone huh? I am on to your sneakiness. And yours to fb, Twitter and Whatsapp creators. And all you iPhone game creators.

Aaand ooooh my friends who so cunningly have placed themselves all over the globe so there is a constant chatter on Whatsapp whatever be the time.

The Atozchallenge creators – hmmmmph! And to all of you who influenced me to start this – hmmmmph and hmmmmph. Wait till May when I will sleep early once this is done. Someone else can look after the world between 11 to 330 then. 

This is my entry for U in the April  Atoz challenge and i am officially losing it. 

T is for traveling with a toddler

Long long time ago, there was a blog called wandering feet. An enthu nut thought she could manage another blog on travel –

There was one blog post. Over the 4 years of existing – this post had 2 views

And so here goes this post when we travelled to Australia with our 19 month old .

Flying with a toddler

You must be crazy or very very brave!

That’s what we heard every time we told people, we were planning to holiday in Australia and taking our 19 month old toddler with us.

For us the decision to travel to Australia was easy. Since the Elf got to travel free until he was 2 – we decided the place to holiday was the one with the most expensive air ticket. And Hence Australia won!

On October 1st, like all good travellers we informed everyone on Facebook that we were off to Australia. The Elf was taught to say “YAY” every time he heard the word Australia and video of the same was promptly uploaded by his besotted cool mother.

And so it came that one clueless toddler and two ‘slightly’ nervous adults got into a flight.

Did i say a flight – sorry i lie.

We took the Air India dreamliner to Australia – A Mumbai – Delhi – Sydney – Melbourne flight – yup you got it – 2 stop overs before our final destination because we are THAT brave or just THAT dumb!

Air India seems to be have conspired with the toddler and attempted the “Divide and Rule” policy. They overbooked our existing seats and attempted to give us seats that were not together on the longest leg between Delhi and Sydney. But Ha! we caught onto the conspiracy and promptly put on our saddest faces while asking fellow passengers to have pity on us and let us sit together.

And of coursing adding to the excitement was the delayed landing on the Mumbai – Delhi Flight resulting in a marathon run from the domestic terminal to the international terminal with the 10.5 kilos of wriggling mass.

So the Elf was fine on the flight, and was very excited about us being in the sky. Everyone of the flight was duly informed that “Plane is in sky” over and over again because everyone knows that everything should be repeated a billion times in toddler land.

The Husband and I on the other hand – had our limbs just a tad bit full with a wriggling active child who thought bouncing around the flight was extremely amusing. And what’s funnier than knocking over dinner and watching mama clean dal and rice from the Carpet.

The elf then stretched out across the mother and father and slept – we sat still out of fear of waking him up. . And of course we slept, just to be woken up in fifteen mins to be served dinner!

So since i am the crazy brave mother who flew with her toddler to the another hemisphere, here are my tips for surviving a flight with a toddler

-> First off and the most critical – Praise God that a certain Mr Jobs existed. Of course the ipad. While we would like to believe that we are those parents that limit screen time, Lords Knows we prayed that BAA BAA BLACK Sheep would never run out of his wool.

-> On the flight, carry like a million pairs of clothes because your kid will try to outwit you and require just one more than what you have carried. And the really smart would carry a change of clothes for themselves.

-> Carry food for your kid – lots of snacks, milk, food- Air India at least doesn’t cater for the food requirements for non seat occupying babies and will give you a meal “only if there is any left over”. And no the food is not baby friendly. Thank God, i was struck by some form of wisdom and had plenty of food

-> Do take a bassinet seat – your limbs will thank you. While we didnt have one while going to Australia, coming back we got our bassinet seat and it was the best thing ever. The todd was slept in the bassinet with his feet sticking out while the parents fervently watched movies – only another parent would understand why i use the word fervently.

-> And Relax – i truely believe babies & kids feed off your energy!

->And the most important rule of them all – You will never see the people on the flight again

This is part of the April Atozchallenge and my post for the letter T

R is for (Wait for it, like really wait for it) Rain

Call up any Bangalorean (or are we Bengalurean’s?) – anyway so call up any Bangalorean you know.

And if they don’t whine about the temperature, they are lying to you – they don’t reside in Bangalore. It has been hot hot hot here. And no not the pampered weathered Bangalore hot of 32 degrees – it has been close to 40 degrees here.

In a land where a lot of people don’t have AC’s –who needs AC’s for 2 months of heat machaa. This is a big deal. You sleep and wake up with sweat around the neck. The husband is kicking around acting like someone is attacking him at night, the kid still insists on getting his stuffed toys to bed, in this weather, the toys are even more annoying than usual.

The air is still, warm and the sun is blazing.

As I wonder what to write about with the alphabet R – i start some half hearted attempt at R for Romeo and Juliet and know its going nowhere – and then just like that God sends me a sign

Thunder!

I think this is how people marooned in deserts feel when they see an oasis. I get all excited and inform my Bangalore Whatsapp group and the husband that it is going to rain. I ponder updating a Facebook status. But that’s not cool anymore!

If you think i am over-reacting to the prospect of rain, you must know I am a great lover of the rain, especially the first rain – I have blogged about it here and here. Rains make me very excited – It is probably a left over thing from living in Port Blair. Where every evening, the minute we got out of the school bus, it would pour drenching you irrespective of any attempts of having an umbrella or a raincoat. I realize all my love for the rain has already been pored into the blog posts linked so I will shut up about it.

Maybe the rain is just an excuse at a valid excuse of eating chai and samosa.

Anyway getting back – I hear the thunder and immediately I thought of R for Rain. And then of as a harbinger to the rain, my curtains start moving in the breeze. The same curtains which have been brought to a standstill by this very still weather are actually moving. I get a little more excited and believe I can smell rain.

The people I have messaged tell me I am imagining it,The skies have no black clouds, and even as I right this blog, the breeze has stopped. In fact it’s still again. Dammit even the sun is shining again.

But i believe the rain and I have a connection and it wont fail me – I tell them with all the authority and confidence I don’t actually possess that it will rain and to have faith.

So Rain help me save face and rain!

Rain on this poor drenched Bangalore.

Spare us from buying AC’s and contributing to global warming.

Dont let us become puddles.

And more importantly (for me) make this idiot (me) continue to believe that we have a connection.

Phew and one more blog done – 8 more alphabets and 5 more days. I am not sure if i am more keen for it to rain or for this blogathon to be done with.

update: I am Nostradamus – it just started raining

This is part of the ATOZ Challenge and this is my entry for R. 

 

 

O is for OMG!

Omg! Now imagine it being said like it is said in F*R*I*E*N*D*S

So many different ways – the flabbergasted OH MY GAWD, or the worried omg omg omg, or the happy oh my god or the shocked oh my god.

If you don’t know what I am talking about, I am sorry we can’t be friends anymore.

I don’t know how much I say this word – aloud but I know I think it a lot. Like in my head.

– When a middle age relative insists on telling me how pretty she is and how she had a stalker in her college days

And I am like OH MY Gawddd. Definitely flabbergasted I mean who walks around telling people how pretty they are. Ummm I can see you and decide you know, without your help. I am that smart.

– There is the scared oh my god for the minute you think you can’t find your kid. Some one tell my kid about heart attacks please.

– And then there is the scared omg omg omg when I accidentally put on the Times Now debate with Arnab shouting. I am definitely very very scared in the 5 seconds it takes me to change the channel.

– Or the scared omg omg omg when I see a pigeon in my vicinity. Bet you didn’t know I am petrified of birds.

– The excited oh my god my birthday is here followed by a deflated oh my god I am *that* old.

– Every master chef Australia coming soon ad is followed by a very excited oh my god!

– The angry Oh my god directed at my very mean weighing scale ! I am glad the battery died on that idiot.

– There is the bored oh my god! Where is the closest balcony I can jump off to stop this woman from talking about her child on and on and on.

This OMG is also used on the batch mate who drivels on imparting his knowledge on the economic environment and the movers shakers and yawnnn!

– There is the did you just say that OMG when an acquaintance speaks rudely to her help.

– Nowadays most prevalent is the sinking heart oh my god when I realised I have 9 days left and so many many more alphabets to go.

This explains the double post. This will not be a habit in May or ever

– Yes, I am ignoring the OH MY GAWD you are saying at this crappy post

This is part of the Atozchallenge for April and my entry for the letter O

D is for dramebaaz

I have always been called a drama queen, a nautanki, a dramebaaz – though I don’t have a clue why.

Of course years ago I did declared that my whole life was ruined because my mom didn’t buy me an anchor cross stitch set.

And yes I do give the husband dialogues of how he will miss me when I am dead and gone when he chooses to stare at the TV rather than pay heed to what I am saying.

But that’s like normal human behaviour now isn’t it?

So anyway, the mater had many years ago started calling me Meena Kumari and while recounting my baby tales has let others very kindly know that I was/am a Meena Kumari.

Whatever. Talk of rumours spreading. No basis at all.

Anyway it would seem that Meena kumari ka aulaad (meena’s kumari’s offspring) has arrived on the scene and threatens to take away my title.

The elf declares tragic expression in place that the scratch on his hand is the worst in the whole world and that it will never ever go away for all his life. The scratch is reminisced months after the skin has grown back with same tragic expression on face.

And God forbid any living being dead or alive was involved in causing the said scratch. The poor person shall live on in bad books till kingdom come

Much like the boy who whacked him on the birthday. Any discussion on the elf’s bad behaviour has him bringing up with a very sad expression how that boy hit up and that too in his birthday.

And quite often I have been diverted from what we are discussing and drawn into a conversation of how it was not good of said boy to hit him.

He accuses me of never ever taking him swimming if I miss a day or how I am always late to pick him up if by mistake I am a couple of minutes late for the bus.

The performance standards of motherly behaviour have to be A-ok else I am immediately rated with an F grade.

So in addition to all things that are good in his looks and personality – I have also conferred on my son a great deal of dramebaazi and dealing with it is bringing about in me a deep sense of sympathy for myself.

Aaah karma

Oh wait didn’t I start off by declaring I am not a drama queen.

Ironically while i was categorising my post I realised I had created a category called drama queen

This is part of the #AtoZchallenge for April . Unofficially of course Coz I didn’t know of the challenge till late but whatever 🙂

Letting go…

My baby started school today. As an excited elf wears his uniform, my heart feels heavy. I have been feeling this way for a couple of days I wonder why because he has been in daycare since he was less than a year old.

He is very excited, excited about the swings and the slides he has seen, excited about the uniform he gets to wear.

We enter school and I sense his mood change. He keeps telling me to come in with him. We enter his classroom and hang around for a while. It’s time for me to go, I kiss him goodbye. In the commotion, I don’t think he registers what I am saying. We look back and he is crying either joining in the general tears or he actually wants to cry.

I worry – I know he will stop crying once something interests him. But I worry, if his heart is heavy, if he is scared or if he is worried I won’t pick him up. Who is going to reassure him.

We peak in from a window and the tall one sees him trying to open his bottle, the teacher helps him. The bottle is new – what if he has forgotten how to use it. I should have practised with him more.

I worry about school just being too grown up for him. In a daycare he was looked after. Didn’t we look after ourselves in school?

Who is going to blow his nose or help him in the loo. Make him eat?

I know he is not the friendliest kid in town – will he make friends or would he be sidelined. I know he doesn’t know to hit back – will he get bullied?

Is this the right school? Will the school interfere in the unique way in which he thinks?

The logical part of me knows he will figure it out – learn to stand up for himself, eventually make friends – but the mama in me wants to protect him.

I walk out of the school with tears in my eyes. The realisation dawns that everyday I need to let go of my baby a little more. Everyday is a step away from babyhood to becoming a real person

God bless little one! Spread your wings and fly. Don’t mind your silly mama crying at every milestone. Fly my baby – soar!

Baby boy…baby boy!

Anyone who knew me while I was pregnant knows how much I wanted a baby girl, how sure I was that the elf would be a girl. Obsessed almost…

Till today I crib about not having a girl…

A lot of it is of course the drama queen in me and the opportunity to blame the tall one for wrong sex baby.

I have to admit a lot of me wanting a girl has to do with me wanting to play dress up. But then you hear the girls are more sensitive and more attached to parents and you want that too.

Last night as I scrubbed the kitchen clean – using the time to just think. My me time. I send Tall one and the elf outside to eat watermelon. A little voice comes behind me – what you doing mama, why you doing and starts his endless questions, I find ways to send him out telling him play with your blocks colours etc etc. But he keeps going out taking a bite of watermelon and comes back and hangs out with me.

Go out elf
No mama I will stand here while you clean. Coz I like you no ! Everyday I be with you.

Reminds me of years ago when I hang out with my mom in the kitchen, talking away. Just like that I have a little helper – always watching me cook, clean, always wanting to know what I am doing!

He even watches me dress and comments on my clothes. The criticism is always private, the praise public. Mama you look so nice Dadu looks fat.

I don’t know what the future holds, will he still be mama’s little helper? Most likely not. I have no expectations of him wanting to look after us or hang out with us.

But for now (while he also makes me want to tear out my hair) I love how important he makes me feel. I am not entirely sure I deserve such love but I am grateful for it.

I am tempted to say it aloud – it doesn’t matter if the child is a boy or a girl, its something just the way they are built and what they learn that makes me them who they are.

this is my 100th post (yes yes finally I know) but I can’t think of a better person or topic to dedicate it to. This is a tribute to all boy children coz they deserve it too