Category Archives: Me a mommy??

H is for holidays

So on 28th of March my house was stuck by an earthquake and on 29th by a tornado and the subsequent jolts, quivers and speedy breezes have continued since. I am surprised that the walls in my house are brave enough to stand.

The floor has given up and understands that its existence is going to be dotted by 32 small hot wheels cars and innumerable others cars and vehicles of different shapes and sizes.

My feet understand that until June every time it takes a step, a Lego will attempt to pierce right through my foot.

My sofas have put on a brave face and steadied their springs to the incessant jumping!

The artifacts around the house quiver when ‘
the whoosh of a ball passes them.

My fridge groans in despair after it has been opened for the 10563th time in the day.

My lap and nose and various body parts wonder in silence where they will live to see my 35th year of existence

As I walk around my house, I feel their accusingly looks and if they could talk they would say

Why nuttie why?!!

Sure every school has holidays but haven’t you heard of summer camps. Every Meena, Teena and Ameena is sending their kids to advance the kids skills while the mothers maintain their sanity. What bravery medal were you aspiring for when you decide your kid should be free during summer holidays. You wanted him to be able to do as he pleases during his holidays just like you did as a kid. Unstructured play it seems. Pfft…imagination some more pfft,

I take a deep breath and tell them only 7 weeks more.

I hear the low hum of chanting/praying and beseeching to the Gods while I walk away!

this is part of the Atozchallenge – unofficially of course and this is my entry for h

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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 πŸ™‚

C is for Cinderella and chatter boxes

Ever imagine what it is like to be Cinderella – you know just when the prince comes to kiss you, the clock strikes 12.

Well every evening I feel like Cinderella except there is no prince or kiss, and there is no clock either. Just the complaining voice of a 4 year old.

So I have these bunch of friends whose kids are 3-4 years elder than mine, so their kids play independently and They get to hang around and play. I also have friends who my kid plays with and with either set of friends just when the conversation gets interesting my kid wants to go to the loo or change his place of playing or go home and so on .

And much like Cinderella I sadly have to leave. No kiss nothing.

But then again I am a genius and a chatterbox. And I have been dying to have a nice heart to heart conversation with someone whose age is not in single digits . So 2 of us took our kids to funky monkey – where the kids played for 1.5 hours without interruptions. After that we gave them lunch but we weren’t done yet and the kids seemed to have evolved some game outside the play area . So we let them be – ignored them, ignored the looks we may or may not have got from other folks around and talked for another 1.5 hours .

With the travel time; we had actually managed close to 4.5 hours of talk time with barely any interruptions from our kids!!!

Talk about bliss!

This is part of the April Atozchallenge

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

Day 10. An evening stroll

My eyes are shutting but I want to post something. I am going to be a fraud and pull out a draft which has been written when the elf was three months old – a draft 2.5 years old.

The strange part is while going over my draft I remember this evening. Nothing unusual, it good be any evening in my building yet these moments stayed with me. I don’t remember though why I didn’t publish it

So here goes… An evening stroll through the eyes of the nut.

Lovely breeze – heralding the rains perhaps

-> A father plays catch catch with a group of the girls. As they chase the “uncle” around the compound, their laughter pure joy. The littler ones running helter skelter pretending to be very “useful” in the cause of chasing the uncle

-> one of the young girls has a mobile around her neck

-> A doggy sits with his head out of the window waiting for his turn to come down for a walk. When he does, he sniffs all in his path, wagging his tail and showing his puppy eyes so that all who pass him smile

-> The new mothers pushing strollers acknowledge each other with smiles, often stopping to check on the age, name and sex of the baby. Each seems to walk away thinking – my baby cutest.

-> The grandmothers – putting out plastic chairs, enjoying the breeze while they talk. Snippets of their discussion – “Hamare samay mein” and of course the unabashed stares as they assess everyone who passes them

-) The younger ladies huddle together while their kids play around and then break into pairs of 2-3 (special friends and all) and start their “health walk” health walk – the fast walk with the intention of keeping fit

-> An Elderly couple matches step for step while another couple watch the world go byv

-> A cute little baby watches everything around him, a little puzzled at this breeze thing hitting him and then falls asleep – Yes Yes that one is all mine

These are a few of my ‘happy’ things – day5

It’s been a long day and I can’t think straight. I have a headache partially caused by probably the change in weather etc, etc – 25% caused by the elf’s incessant and unusual whining and another 25% caused by the tall one and the elf complaining about each other.

As I lie wondering what to blog about they whine about someone touching someone and some one hitting someone and so on and on until I am ready for the ground to open up like it did for Sita Mata.

Now that I have sent the tone, I am just going to shamelessly draw inspiration from the girl in blue jeans blog theme and go with what I am happy about it today. I hope this links – I now blog from my phone and I am still figuring out how this app works. Continue reading