Category Archives: Happy Little moments

Musings on the eve of my birthday

So anyway who knows me knows i love my birthday. There have been historic records that tell about The Tall One’s phone having alerts on his phone gently reminding him that his wife’s birthday is in 74 days. Times have changed and now i even get to harass the kid and remind him that we cant discuss his birthday because mine comes first – a whole 22 days before his.

So its the last hour of my 36th year. It’s a lonely one – or should be defined as one maybe. The Tall one is travelling (on a flight back) and the Elf is asleep. I sit on my couch and am doing mundane things like folding laundry while watching crappy television.

In my head – that is pretty much the definition of being a loser. But God knows I am loving the peace. No I don’t crave the peace but right now its welcome. I want time to slow down – I want the last hour of my 36th year to slow down before the calls start and the excitement and the busyness of tomorrow starts.
Time – what’s the hurry?

You seem to be moving fast.

Yet at times I wonder if you are really working?

Time you have made my kid seem so big now and every time i see the long legs and the pants which shorten by the day, my heart feels a twinge. Yet it seems just yesterday when he smiled his toothless baby smile at me.

I look at old pics of the Tall One and I from college and i see time that you have worked and our youth is in the past. It makes me nostalgic for another time, another era – where dreams were so different – I dont even know if they were mine. Yet memories of weekends spent just the 2 of us living the non child life dont seem 7 long years ago.

Time you have made me want to believe I am a grown woman now. But watch me when my mum is around and I am a useless teenager again.

Time has made my granny not remember my name but her smile when she sees tells me that time you cant change feelings. Time you may have slowed down my grand dad but you cant stop him from speed dialing me to ask me about a little cough i might have.

So yeah time go ahead – make me an inconsequential age of 37. But know that I am going to be alright. I am not going over any hill anytime soon. Coz time you may think you work, yet you will never work.

 

Advertisements

Goodbye my darling …

Dear Peter Petrosky Bob,

You were the pet  I reluctantly agreed to. I thought getting you as a return gift was way too much responsibility. I looked at how to barter you away at the party itself. But the elf was having nothing of it. He wanted a fish if all his friends got to take home one.

At first I thought that fish were boring – I felt guilty, icky to change your water. But as time went by, you fascinated me.

I loved how your body changed from pure white to black, to the beautiful colour you were. You were my magical fish. My pride – no one else had a fish which changed colour. It amused me how when you saw the tall one you would get all excited knowing he would feed you. If fish ever did a happy dance this was it. 

You tolerated the elf tap tapping and all the excitement the elf showed dancing around you during your water change. 

I often said that you were the only one of my  boys who listened to me. Every time I spoke to you, you came to the top of your bowl to blow me kisses. Every time I sang “hello hello” you came up and told me you love me. 

Even today as you struggled at the bottom of the bowl – you came up to speak to me when you heard my voice – I will be forever touched that you tried so hard. I will miss your puckered lips, your sexy pout, your little black eyes. 

It was miserable to watch you suffer helplessly for the last few days and for that I am glad you are in a better place. 

But now as you lie still at the bottom of your bowl, I keep glancing at the bowl and not seeing you swim around breaks my heart.

Thank you Peter Petrosky Bob for the memories and for teaching my kid and us to love a little more. 

Forever my Petu Singh! Muah!

Cheat day -3/30

So I am totally cheating here – I can’t think of a single thing to blog about – zilch, nothing, nada – you get the drift. So I go into my drafts for inspiration and I find this from 2292 days ago. – more than 6 years ago!!!

The Nut tip toes into the bedroom at 2 am very quietly. The Tall one has an early morning flight and if woken up might just eat up the Nut’s pretty toes!

She draws the curtains, brushes her teeth, switches off the light almost tip toeing – scared that she might never use her toes again…and lies down in bed only to hear

in a very whiny tone – “Babyyy i am not asleep…what to do?”

The Nut patiently – “Oh ho baby…what happened – are u feeling hot”

The Tall One thinks and answers – “yaaaa that’s the problem”

The Nut reluctantly and patiently opens the window – deals with the curtains and hurricane breeze and lies down again

It starts pouring and the water comes into the room.

Babyyyy – can u shut the window – i am feeling cold now and my feet are getting wet (Really? Tall one…i am the one who sleeps near the window hunny…if ur feet are wet…mine have been washed off)

The Tall One trashes around in the bed in search of the perfect pose which will please the sleep god…knocking the nut the first time, pulling her hair the second time, kicking her leg the next time…and the Nut she holds her peace! (Bleddy morning flight pity)

The nut volunteers to sing “Rockabye baby” – the gesture is rudely brushed aside citing the Nut’s inability to sing.

I have no recollection of this night and I am curious as hell as to how this played out. And that’s why ladies and gentlemen you must never leave posts in drafts! Or at least complete it dammit 

And the above is the wisdom I leave you with tonight. 

Forever etched in my heart – Day 1/30

When I started blogging, I did it because I wanted to record my life. For sometime I did it pretty religiously too. But somewhere down the line I realised that while I can crib about my life, make fun of myself and the ones I love, write a couple of senti letters – I find it difficult to write about the little moments that fill my heart.

The first time I stopped blogging was when the elf was born – I never found the words rather I didn’t want to find the words to express what I feel for him. It was a private moment to be savoured by me and that was recorded in my heart forever.

When Swathi forced, I mean suggested that we do a blogathon, my first thought was to write about the amazing Diwali I had – the warmth of friends and family, the pang of missing some family, the traditions I was passing on to my son, the joy of cooking favourite foods of family and friends, the fun of dressing up and all the gratefulness I feel for everything. 

But like always I don’t find the words to do it justice.

Just a heart which feels all warm and loved. For everything I dislike about organised religion, I love how it still binds us irrespective of our beliefs. So I am grateful for that and glad we persist in some traditions.h

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

S is for Sonshine

When the Elf was born, I was a bit disappointed he was not a girl. It helped that I felt that babies were genderless, but now as he becomes a little boy, I have genuinely started to believe boys are so sweet.

So this is for my sonshine and all the other sonshines who make our hearts beat out of both fear, exasperation and love – alternately and together.

Something so innocent and impish about them – alternately and together. Little girls you are just as awesome I am sure.

But back to little boys…

Little boys are piglets. They will touch and lick everything. Every single thing. Sitting on the ground of a restaurant, a dirty shop or a puddle is common place.

So much so that we don’t even notice anymore. All my friends who have little girls are aghast that the elf spends so much time under the table at a restaurant. My standards are very low – I am just glad he doesn’t sit on the floor at a public loo.

FYI I make him stand in a public loo with his hands up which I hold with one hand so that he can’t touch anything.

Anyway as a result they are always dirty. I have never seen such black hands, legs or nails in my life!

– They run. Like just keep running or if they are on a cycle , they run on the cycle. It’s like they are testing us – how fast can you chase us. How strong is your heart to sustain the fact that I can just run off and you won’t know where I am. And yes just to show you how strong I am – I will jump off things and if there are no things to jump off – I will just keep jumping !

– Also they are not bothered about who is joining them to play. I notice the little girls who come down to play, pick and choose their companions. I feel sad to see them already start these excluding some girls and all boys from play. With boys and the tomboys they play with (at least as of now) it’s like you have feet, you got a car – let’s run with your feet while we drive the car over all the messy puddles and muddy pots.

Speaking about mud, elf just saw a couple on TV having a mud bath and demands one himself. I fear the next time I turn my back on him, that’s exactly what he will do.

– Which brings me to the next point never turn your back or close your eyes for 5 minutes unless you want water poured into your toothpaste, a mixture of powder and cream carefully spread on your bed, lipstick put on their shirts, oil put on their heads or paper shredded and thrown into water.

– Little boys come with an extra attachment – cars. It’s like cars, cars, everywhere – you develop great expertise in jumping over the 32 hot wheels cars that permanently inhabit your floor and the 25 other non hot wheel cars and vehicles . Serious hopping skill sets being developed.

– They are rough. Good lord, entertainment for the elf is me pushing him on the bed, wrestling with his dad and playing kabbadi by himself.

– Major irritants with little boys are watching sports, the potty jokes and the absolute inability to pee into the pot. For a kid who can throw the ball so accurately while playing, his aim while peeing is hard to believe.

– Little boys are the biggest ego boost ever. Mama looks so pretty in her old slacks and t-shirt, mama makes the best fish, mama knows everything, mama leave your hair open – it’s pretty, mama is prettier than the Aunty on TV – take that Aishwarya Rai. Also dadu can’t sit near mama, no keep distance, no coming near – yup no siblings happening in the near future. I have a friend whose 5 year old kid will yell if his mom is not the first face he sees.

If the elf sees me in the kitchen for long or if I am reading in another room, he will make frequent trips to visit me updating me on all the things I have missed in the world in the last 2.5 minutes I have been away from him.

– They don’t like kisses or hugs. They will squirm, and struggle and act like you are torturing them. And your heart will be a little sad that the baby is really growing up.

But then at night when the lights go off, you might feel like a lizard has fallen on your waist but it’s a little hand trying to hug you to sleep, the little cheeks want kisses, he wants to know if you love him and wants all the petting you can give.

He is then just my little vulnerable boy !

And as I go to sleep – i sing in my head.

You are my sonshine,
My only sonshine,
You make me happy when skies are grey.
You’ll never know just how I much I love you. You will always remain my sonshine forever.

I know he will outgrow this someday but I will cherish it forever and I do believe every now and then however big he is – he will find a way to let me know *he thinks I am da bomb I mean mom*

This is part of the April blogathon and this is my entry for S.

P is for Postcards from Port Blair

I am totally going to cheat on this post. For most of you Port Blair is a travel destination, for me and for a lot of us who grew up there – Port Blair is a feeling. Last evening as i sat down to write about this place, the words felt inadequate. How do i put to words the place I was happiest in – an innocent carefree life. How do I describe the place I don’t want to go back to because I fear the memory is more beautiful than the reality. It’s the place i most want to take the Tall One and the Elf to but i dont want to because i feel they wont see it with my biased eyes

I posed this question to my “chaddi buddies” who grew up with me in this idyllic islands and got them to write about living in Port Blair. What amazed me is that each of our memories and thoughts are so similar. Some of us grew up there, some of us (like me) were there for a couple of years, some still called it home (where their parents still are) but we all felt the magic. The magic was in its simplicity, in its beauty and its purity. Bear with the post as 66% of my chaddi buddies recount our wonder years.

This is what Gi my friend of the lemonade fame had to say:

Growing up in Port Blair was fun. Everydat was a picnic -the kind you read in Enid Blyton books. We could see the sea from everywhere. We could go on boat rides whenever we wanted to, have a mid night picnic in the middle of the sea on a full moon night, go swimming and snorkeling. I still miss the smell of the sea and the feel of the sand under my feet, even though its been half a decade since I went back there. I would like to say that apart from all the good things, I personally saw pretty rough times too and Port Blair was my refuge from the world.

A few of us had been living in Port Blair since we were very little and left it when we grew up and a few us came and went with Parents postings. There was a magic bond that was created and I think it was because of the place, the sheer simplicity of it. I can say this for all of us that we would all like to go back there together and experience that again.

And this is what my other friend P had to say:

They called her a junglee – a quiet shy girl, full of dreams and ambitions. She geew from being a little girl, to a a teenager and a young adult on these beautiful.From the shores of the sea to the middle of forests a life which seems like something right out of the jungle book.

Carefree and happy full of memories- Running to catch a seat in the bus to get to the ferry, watching the sun rise and set each day along the horizon,the shimmers of the waves still catch her eyes and remind her of many picnics and outings movies and birthdays with her favorite bunch of the buddies -people she has known for most of her life…

PortBlair will always remain part of her no matter were she is or were she goes…

There is Reshmi from mum in the curry fame – she looks back nostalgically to the place which she still calls home (this was by far the toughest post to edit, i do hope she features the whole post on her blog someday

Living in a country  (US) where I did  not grow up but moved for education and job, I have often been asked ‘Where are you originally from?” Since my answer is not the simplest and the place not the easiest to know or locate, I i usually pull up a map to show. The reaction I get from people when I show them the speckles in a vast ocean on a map, never ceases to amuse me, followed by the ‘What’s the place called again?”

As much as I love telling people about my home, it’s the next question from them (which almost always follows the first) that trumps me. “Why in the world would you leave such a beautiful place to come HERE?”
However pragmatic my answer  sounds about a better life and job and all that jazz, truth is I ask myself that question more often that I have been asked by someone else.
How can you not love a place so beautiful! The only image that conjures in my mind when someone says HOME is that of a small town, views of the sea from every where, hills, clear skies (of course when its not pouring!), fresh air…I can go on. This is the place I spent 18 years of my life. Place that taught me the charm of small communities and simple living; the value of finding small joys in mundane things (getting drenched in the rain while walking back from school in spite of that umbrella in the bag!); where I made friendships that have lasted for so long that I don’t remember how long. Where I met the love of my life. Where my parents still are, where some of the people I value the most still live. The place that shaped my profession. The place that I would go back in a heartbeat (but then life’s reality blah blah blah).
Port Blair is also the place that I also miss the most. My husband thinks it’s only a matter of years that this love will give away to a mere memorable affection, and I fight him for that unwanted opinion. It is true that I may have chose to ignore the fact that the place and times have changed. Things may not be the same. But my Port Blair will always be what I remember from when I left. Port Blair may have moved on without me, but I will remain in denial that it has. And that is the reason why every time the sky becomes over cast, I remember home.Any time I hear the rain lashing out in the night and pounding my windows, I close my eyes and pretend I am home, lying on my bed, and falling asleep to the sound of the rain.
This is what my friend – “Ginny” had to say
It is and always has been about the people. Port Blair to me was my friends, family,and neighbors. These people shaped my experiences of the town, and my childhood.With my family I explored most of what the island had to offer- hikes, boat trips, snorkeling and swimming on some of the most remote islands. My neighbors were the playmates during the scheduled power cuts in the evenings, and companions on various picnics that our mums organized. But, it was my friends who made Port Blair come alive for me.

It was with and through them that I appreciated what it had to offer. Not, just the beauty, but a sense of community and self. Even though we were thousands of miles away from everything, I belonged. We were behind the times, but it didn’t feel like that because my friends (the chaddi buddies you’ve heard about before) were way ahead of the times. With our fabulous sense of fashion and selves, we had a blast in what could often be a sleepy town. Countless hours were spent on the phone (we used them to talk to each other, I know…how ancient!), and then countless more at school and tuitions.

As with most things, our collective time on the island came to an end. We dispersed off to corners of the mainland, and some left the country. It was then that I realized,going back to Port Blair was nice, because it had been home, but it was only fun and real when my friends were around.

So, to me Port Blair is a state of mind, and thanks to my friends and our whatsapp group, I’m there each and everyday soaking in the sunshine, feeling the spray of salt on my skin and swimming with the dolphins.
This is part of the blogathon for April and this is my blog spot for P