Experiments in ensuring the kids new their language(s)

A prompt on the Momspresso blogging platform nudged me to write this post. It took me back to the days of mad hands-on hit-and-miss parenting experiments. Most of my posts are now more reflective or borderline morbid. Maybe it's a 'phase of life' thing. Well this one is from another phase:

We live in city where if you step out to any public space-an event, airport, or a bus you get to hear a cacophony of languages: Telugu, Kannada, Tamil, Hindi, Malayalam, Bengali to start with. In a situation where adopting any one Indian language over the other seems to tread on regional pride, most people have adopted English as the link language.

So much so that my children's generation now speaks and thinks in English as their first language and falter to even complete a sentence in other Indian languages. At one point, I thought it was ok, language is for communication. If the kids find English an easier medium to connect with people, and they anyway need it for school, let them use English exclusively.

But then a language is much more than a tool for communication. It connects you to an entire culture, your traditions and your heritage. Determined to preserve the connection to their roots for my not-so-interested children, I have tried multiple experiments over the years.

Assigning languages to people:
Using only Bengali while talking to grandparents. Speaking only in Hindi with parents.

Outcome: Slow, painful and yet at times hilarious conversations. (4-year-old telling Ramayana to her grandmother: taar pore ora Ram ke jungle-e bheje dilo. The literal translation: Then they fried-off Ram in the jungle). The convoluted conversations would end up with the grand-parents speaking in English. It was a bit confusing and even I would end up mixing the language and person.

Assigning days:

Saturdays were declared Hindi days; Sundays as Bengali days. These became the most peaceful days as the kids were still not fluent enough to fight without English. Given a choice between not squabbling or building up their vocabulary, they adapted soon and now we had cat-fights in three languages! I am not sure whether this was a good move or not.

Movies:
Yes. Bollywood was far more successful in teaching Hindi to my kids then any enforced language class. It still took some time to catch up though any there would be real confusion like the time my then 6-year-old watched Band-Baaja-Baraat to wonder in the end: But who was Baraat in the movie?

It was more difficult to coax them to watch Bengali movies, so I started with a fun-movie Bhooter Bhavishyat. They enjoyed it, so I pushed my luck with another comedy, but this with a bit of partition history, Goynar Baksho. That went well! Excited, I tried playing more contemporary movies but then my luck ran out- “Can we see only Bengali Ghost movies?” I guess the other facets of culture will have to wait.

Travel:

There are large parts of the country where English doesn’t work that way. And kids learnt it on their own. While in Delhi they picked up the Punjabized Hindi, in Bangalore they learnt to intersect it with 'aiyos'. In Rajasthan, they interacted comfortably with the neighborhood children in colorful Hindi and my elder daughter told me with pride how she bargained in Bengali, in Banaras!

School:
I think this was the most effective channel. My children went to boarding school and broadened their horizons beyond the confines of family and region. They had friends from all parts of the country, were exposed to songs and movies in multiple languages and they learnt to appreciate unique facets of different cultures. If there was a weekend movie in Marathi, they would make a Marathi speaking friend sit with them and translate all the words, beyond subtitles.

Now they insist that while Bahubali was dubbed very well; to enjoy the songs, I must listen to the Telugu version! That’s the circle of life, I guess.

Moms have all the fun

There are two sides to every story. As I kept thinking I had the toughest job in the world, this was my daughter’s statement.

And as usual she had a long list of reasons…

You keep getting my hair cut short and grow yours because you wanted to be the prettiest in the house.

We have to wear the same uniform everyday and you can wear all pretty clothes to office. You can use nail polish and even lipstick in office! And your office doesn’t give any homework. (She really loved my office)

We have to study in school and also do homework. We even have exams. And your work means using the laptop and going online. (How can that be work?)

You stop going to office but we have to go to school every day. (That hurts her most-just the thought of mom waving her off to school and being free to watch TV).

What brought matters to the head was me feeling too sick to eat Roti-Chicken, or to cook for myself. I made some maggi and took it to bed.

You are eating Maggi! And when I was sick I had to eat khicdi and soup!!!

Yeah kid. When I am down, feeling sorry for myself, and missing my mom, you do make me count my blessings.

Running out of Mommy skills

This is a question to all moms or rather all parents:

Do you get mad at your kids? Really angry, annoyed, pissed off enough to say Ok-Do it your way!

Or am I one of the few who cannot keep the ‘Mom hat’  on at all times and say no matter what you do or say child (or how obnoxiously you say it), I forgive you because I cannot remain angry with you?

As my daughters live up to their pre-teen (is that supposed to start at 7!!!)  identities with gusto,  we are having more frequent and serious showdowns each day. I get seriously upset when I have to juggle schedules, work crazy hours to meet my deadlines, miss out on things I wanted to do, just to ensure that they do not miss out on anything, be it be extra classes, doctors appointments, trips to the library or even a birthday party, and all they do at the end of the day is crib!

Sometimes I really question my maternal instincts. I do not have that unlimited patience and wisdom motherhood was supposed to come with.

We had another of these showdowns today as the younger went on arguing it was ok to go swimming with her cold. After the usual round of reasoning, explaining, cajoling, and debating, we fell back to our same old conclusions: THAT’S NOT FAIR and NO MORE DISCUSSIONS! (Why on earth did we have to waste an hour for reaching it when she had an exam the next day and I, as usual, had a deadline to meet??? )

Next time I’ll let her do it her way and bear the consequences…maybe she’ll learn that way. But not this time.

It’s been hours since then.

My baby could not sleep as she was racked by terrible coughing fits. I tried everything to help her, but she was just clinging to me and coughing away. After a trip to the doctor, a change in medicine, and vomiting out her dinner, she’s finally sleeping peacefully (touchwood!)

I am still awake. Watching over

Tomorrow she’ll be better. Fighting with me again, and yes, calling me the “worst mother” amongst all the friends’ mothers. And I’ll be fighting back instead of allowing her in the pool. Because no matter how angry I get, I am a mother.,,

A Stay-at-Home-Mom

Now that I am a stay-at-home mum, my excuse of “No time” shouldn’t hold any more.

Yeah, but life just got busier (as if that was possible).

But more than me, it is my loving daughters who are puzzled (as opposed to thrilled :( ).

And I really wonder why, when they have a loving mom at home, ready to give them all the time in the world.

Who is ready with healthy stuff whenever they are hungry (Yuck!).

The kind of mother they always envied-you know the ones who keep their homes sparkling. (Nooooo, you can’t fine me for the messy cupboard, you asked me only to clean the room)

A mom eager to play Badminton with them (Hey, we can’t count playing with you as free time).

 A mother ready to guide them with their studies (No, You can’t open my school bag without permission. It’s Private).

A mother ready to talk whenever they want to..(That’s Ok, but I still need to talk to my friend whom I play with everyday, and who lives just a floor below, for 20 mins on the phone).

Someone who is ALWAYS there for them…(OH GOD!  So what happens to internet time…)

Is it already too late, I wondered. 
Did I make a mistake..

And then Aurora piped in:

That’s just not fair. (the favorite phrase of the moment). You send us to school and then you can read books, watch TV, go back to sleep..

I wan’t to be a stay at home kid too!

I should be heartbroken at their response. The wicked Loverna in me is actually relishing every moment of it.

The mother in me is glad to be there for them…..no matter how they feel about it.

Elena's world

What do you do when you are frustrated?


As a mother of a ten-year old who already behaves like a teenager, I tried to convince Elena that there are ways to channelize your frustration. Creating a different world with your words is just one such way.


Does it work?


Please check out http://elenawrites.wordpress.com/ where she does it and share your suggestions..

The days Moms dread

Déjà vu

I was holding packs of ice to stem the bleeding as a neighbor drove us to the emergency section of the hospital.

Last time it was Aurora , it's Elena this time.

My neighbors proved to be the real blessing. Last time I had just taken one look at Aurora’s blood soaked face and rushed to the car-without even my purse or phone, and leaving the house open. Someone locked up after me, and took Elena home (to have a sumptuous dinner with lots of TV), while another one drove me to the hospital. This time, they had already cleaned up the smaller of the wounds by the time I rushed in..

And I am so thankful to the staff at the often maligned Manipal Hospital. Their response in case of emergencies is fantastic. Right from their approach, promptness, level of preparedness, their concern and expertise- I am so grateful for all of that.

My warrior is home now-with five stitches on her chin.

She has stopped clinging to me as a sign of "return to normalcy".

She hates the doctor who tricked her and put the sutures. (That means she is better now).

No-She declared she is not better. She can hardly move her mouth (except to say how everything was just not fair) so she could have only maggi noodles or pasta for dinner. I was still not my normal Loverna self as I gave in…

By bed time things were normal enough for her to declare: Mamma it’s just not fair. I do that every day (hanging onto the upper rods of a revolving merry-go-rod) and I fell yesterday also, so why did they have to put stitches!!!??

Loverna too comes back to her normal mode: Yes. It is so unfair. Let’s do it tomorrow again and see whether you need stitches or not..

…Praying that she doesn’t try it for some time at least.

Birthday updates-II

Yes there have been a few millimeters of progress.

• Elena has finally decided on the return gift. I think we can do better and am still keeping the options open.
• The guest list and menu are final.
• She has revised her wish list yet again and just wants to go to Dubai-and get a watch like the one Tanvi got from there. 

All other discussions are on hold until the Unit tests are over. (Amen!)

And right after that:

Like every year, Princess Aurora wanted to have a “Barbie” themed birthday, pink gowns and stilettos and the Barbie doll cake– Boys who had a problem with that can just stay away.

She stepped down and agreed to do away with themes as long as she was allowed to dress up like a princess. 

• The return gifts are decided. (Thank goodness-That’s always such a big part)
  
  
• For her Birthday gift she only wants the table which didi got last year. [ Conversation 4]
  (And if their room feels cramped-we’ll simply 'change' to a bigger house)

 Still a couple of weeks to go-wish me luck!

The Bithday 55er

the birthday countdown begins


Mom can I please have a laptop…
Isn’t it too kiddish…
Of course I need a real one…….


She brings down her demands to mobile phones and is disgusted when I say I cannot afford one, not even a Ipod nano…


and the other birthday also falls in the same week..

Growing up, going online..

While I wait for the day when the kids will have grown up, there are these moments when I look  at them and wonder if it isn’t it happening too fast!

Flashback..

Me naming each object I took out while cleaning the fridge, and Elena repeating them with a baby lisp…Eggsh, Tomatoess, Butterl, Juice, Papa’s Juice…noooooo..it is called Beeeeeerl

When did she learn that?
I stand corrected.

Cut to present…

She is just feeling her way around a keyboard, playing games, and asks if I can create an email account for her…

Days later,
I see she is online and ping her with a cheery Hi!
My chat window blinks:
Elena: … the red circle with a bar means I am busy. I can’t chat with you now.
Loverna: Your Internet time is up, please log off
Elena: Ok.
Her status changes to offline.


And I am really not sure whether she’s offline or “ invisible”

Am I being “Hyper” in feeling scared and wondering what next and deciding to supervise her net activity more actively, to talk about the need to chat only with “approved” friends?


And then I read this article on what can happen to any kid:
http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/article6899975.ece

It’s on us to keep our children safe, and if I need to get hyper, then I’ll do that too…..

Another Diwali

I always loved everything about Diwali-the razzle and dazzle, the lights, the clothes, the puja and the noise.

I have always loved crackers too.

Yet when my kid came back from play-school all those years ago and said she doesn’t want to burst crackers because they are made by little children who are forced to work and not go to school, the perspective began to shift.

It was just one of the truths we brush aside because we’d rather not face it.

Over the years, as the skies grow darker with every festival of lights, the smoke has become even more difficult to ignore. We drastically cut down the amount of crackers and just burnt a few to keep the tradition alive.

This Diwali, I saw a Dad coaxing his “stubborn” fourteen-year-old to stop being a spoilsport while she refused to join in the Diwali tradition, and realized that our generation just does not get it.

It is time for us to move on, to learn a few lessons from our kids…They do know better. (Sometimes!)

Exercise in Education

The Theory:

I always look on our trips together as another opportunity in education

So I always try to draw them maps, provide a background of what makes each place special and tell them what I know about the society, language, food and culture of the place-and yes all the interesting bits about geography, history and mythology too.

The Reality:

They always managed to have questions for which I have no answers.

Like: Why couldn’t Lord Rama just fly his army over to Lanka-He was God wasn’t He?

Or for that matter: Why did He let his wife get kidnapped anyway?

And there are times they don’t even wonder “Why” and just find things to absurd to even ask about.

Like Aurora’s reaction to the world famous temple carvings:

They wear so much jewellery and they don’t wear clothes! How D……..

Hey I can see an Ice-cream shop! Anyone interested?

Education will have to wait till Mom does some more homework or till they are old enough to find their own answers (and probably educate me).

In Sickness and in Health

What do I do to get them behave like normal, loving siblings?

Princess Aurora came home from school complaining of a sore throat. It soon turned into a horrible sniffy, sneezy, weepy affair and when she showed a slight increase in temperature you can guess what it did to my hardly there equanimity.

Even then the catfight was still on.  

Being Loverna, I switched to the selective hearing mode-they had to be in separate areas of the house till the worst was over.

As I convinced Aurora to sleep with me, Elena teased her endlessly about being a baby and missing her “day” to sleep on the top bunk..

Aurora got her back by grabbing the remote: Now you can’t watch TV because I have put my germs on this.

Elena cribbed that it was not fair this one was getting away with not finishing her dinner because she felt too sick.

Aurora kept insisting she was the one who was sick and needed to be near the toys, so her sister should be sent out of their room.

I continued not to hear.

The tone changed a little….

Mamma, can I come in for 20 seconds-I have to tell her a secret

Mom, I am missing didi….

I want to sleep in my bed…

Ok Mamma. I am not coming in, I’ve kept this book outside the door-please give it to her.

This is sooooooooooo not the natural state of affairs…

In spite of all the closed doors, Elena too caught the bug, and they were both thrilled! More so, when they were both on the way to recovery, and I was the one down in a bad way: sneezing and sniffing, and behind the closed door.

They got to have Maggi for breakfast, miss school and fight together all day.

Here they are fighting over colors, elbowing and jostling each other, while making “get well soon” cards for Mom. 

Swine-flu and School-Part 2

Yes-I have written enough on the subject and hopefully this is my last post on the topic. Have to maintain the parity in writing about them too-so here is Elena’s story,

The wise old lady-did not even argue about the mask.

She, like her mom, always takes the path of least confrontation-and then goes ahead and does what she means to do anyway (not like her mom though).

She was more concerned about the now essential accessory-the Sanitizer.

The experience, far-sighted teachers, after explaining the need to keep hands clean, told the kids to carry their own sanitizers because they wouldn’t be allowed to rush out to wash their hands, every time.

So Dad was contacted on email and phone and sent a reminder lest he forget, and pestered till he came with the new sanitizer school packs.

Two days later........
a very contrite looking kid with her eyes on the ground comes to me with her coin box, Mamma you can keep this.

Where did that come from?

I am sorry I lost the Sanitizer, I need another one…

Actually Mamma, I don’t think I lost it. I am very sure, the girl who sits behind me, flicked it, she had that kind of expression on her face….but I am still very sorry..

Yep-I fell for the “senti” scene again! Told her to keep the money (which she promptly did) and promised to get one more…

Oh and Mom.... can you please ask Papa to get a pink one this time, Komal also has one…

And Ma’am told us the Himalaya one is the best….

So we get ready to stock up on the latest accessory in school, with full specs on brands, fragrances and colors…

Swine-flu and School-Part 1

Aurora, our the queen of drama agreed to wear a mask because she liked the idea of a masquerade.

She practiced wearing it and kept it carefully in her pocket as she left for school.

It was nowhere in sight when she came back.

Mamma it looks so weird!

I tried to make her realize the importance of taking precautions…. there was a kid in their school who had the flu and was still at home recovering from the after-effects.

Do you know, that boy was absent for one week because he was sick, and then he is staying at home for another week so that he can become stronger, and he may stay at home for longer…his teacher is taking care of all his notes so he won’t even need to copy his work when he comes back…

I quickly turn the direction of our conversation and try to explain the gravity of the situation without scaring her….

But Mamma, that thing is suffocating. I can’t even breathe. I can wear it only if you cut a hole through it…

And there goes The Mask…

Inconvenient Truths

The awkward questions.

My younger kid is always full for them, for starters:
What is S**?

Me trying to be correct without being candid:
It means-Male or Female, Boy or Girl

My elder daughter, an old soul who knew what made adults uncomfortable and never asked us any of these questions, giggled:
Mamma she wants to know the other meaning, the one which people do……..

I gasped: And just what is that?

I had to confirm what she knew, she’s just turned nine.

Elena: Oh Mamma, of course you know, all parents do….
and she refused to go into explanations

Shaken and determined to continue when Aurora was not around, I change the subject, for the moment.

Princess Aurora, obviously did not stop there.

Another day at the dining table:

Aurora: I will not force my children to eat Sambar.

I at my most formidable: That’s a long time away, please finish yours.

Aurora, determined to change the subject: Why is it a long time away?

I refuse to be distracted: Please take a spoonful, your mouth is empty

Aurora: A five year old girl can get pregnant, you know.

Me finally shocked into forgetting the Sambar: Of course not!!!!!!!! Who told you that?

Aurora putting down her spoon relieved at having Mom on a safer topic:

Oh just some friends, told me that. But I guess they were just fooling me.

Warming on to her subject and discretely pushing her food a little further off

I didn’t believe them and told them you have to be grown up and married to get pregnant
she continues righteously…

A smothered giggle, from my ninety (oops nine) year old…

Trying to keep her parents speechless long enough to flee, the princess climbs down her chair and continues:

But then that means Maami would be pregnant now…

The Ninety (no way can she be nine) year old has had enough:

Oh come on, you can just take Ipill and not get pregnant.
Mamma, this girl really doesn’t know anything!!!!

//I swear I have read a lot of on how to explain facts to your kids, and I was all ready to do it when they entered their teens. But now??

Phew!!

I am not sure what I find more unnerving-Aurora’s questions or Elena’s answers//

...do not bring us to the test

I was a bad student. The kind who do everything but study all through the year. But I was held up as a role model to the rest of the class and my cousins (and heartily resented for it), because I was very good at exams.

I studied the examination system more seriously than my books. My success belonged more to strategizing and sheer luck than slogging-smart working as it is called these days. Yes, I seriously worked hard at getting marks, because my grades did matter a lot to me.

And like most parents, I resolved I would not bring up my daughters to do the same.

With them, I always emphasized that learning is more important than “mugging up and coughing out”. I’d prefer that they did reasonably well on their own, than “coming first” with spoon-fed answers and I never asked the teacher their “rank” in class compared to the others.

Yet, when Elena showed me her test answer papers with 23½ out of 25 in four out of five of them-I couldn’t help asking:

Why? When you know everything?

These are just test marks, I do know the answers and that is more important.

So why didn’t you just check the paper before handing it in? These are just careless mistakes that you could have corrected.

I had to go for choir practice so I finished as fast as I could.

Looking at my expression, she sat down to explain:

Mamma, these tests keep happening all around the year, but the Speech day happens only once. Also these marks are not so important, because I do know everything. My Ma’am also knows that I know.

A theatrical pause and then the punch line:

And you know Mamma, there are so many kids in my class who have actually Failed!
Unsaid: See, you lucky you are? And stop cribbing about the 1½ points.

I know she is right.

But the Mom in me still wants her to do better. Am I wrong?

As you speak, so you become...

Are you a Punjabi?

My mom-in-law asked one of the kids’ friends.

No, I am English.

No way, my mil insisted, tell me what language your parents speak in when they are at home.

Oh, they speak English and Hindi. They speak in Punjabi only with my grandmother.

There, I told you-this means you are a Punjabi.

The five year old clarified furiously:

No, It means my Biji is a Punjabi, I am English and my parents are Hindi, English and Punjabi!

My daughters speak Hindi (tinged with Punjabisms) with their “North-Indian” friends, English in school and with all other friends, and Bengali with grandparents. With us, they use all three.

They also sprinkle their sentences with quite a few Tamil expressions, learnt from the “day-care aunty”, Telegu words gleaned from the maid who works there, and a lot of Kannada absorbed from all around.

I wonder what they are…

Negotiation Tips - Anyone?

I’m Hungry. Can I watch TV?
No. Have a banana.

But I am feeling sad because I am hungry. Bananas make me sadder, I need to watch TV.You said you were hungry and that is making you sad. TV will not help. Have biscuits.

On a deeply resigned "Mom’s just don’t understand" tone: I am sad because I am bored and hungry. If I have boring food, I’ll be sadder. I need to watch TV.By this time more than a couple of colleagues are gathered around my desk, waiting for me to trip.

My ever-understanding daughter herself offers a face-saver: I can have chips.

We compromise on biscuits and playing games on the Ipod.

Bringing up Mother

Can we go for a sleepover?

When the question came out for the first time, I almost reacted like the Father of the Bride when Kimberly announces her engagement! Even Daddy cool didn’t manage a cool reply to that one.

Mean momma that I am, I managed to delay-drag it for a good six months before I knew I had to agree. With craftiness worthy of Loverna, I also coaxed them into inviting their friends for the grand sleepover rather than them going out. Yeah not a great difference, but I still feel somewhat reassured that my babies (I can call them that-they still don’t have this url) are where I can take care of them.

I guess most moms reacted like me (I am not the only mean one) and only one of the invitees turned up with a backpack containing her pajamas, toothbrush, towels and loads n loads of Barbie stuff. Popcorn, a Barbie movie, Pizza and Bed-wow this one wasn’t all that bad.

The predictable the can we go……..question popped up again.

What could I tell them?

No-because you are not old enough? (I can see the reaction to that one)

Or no, because I don’t trust anyone in the worldto take care of you?

Or -because I always want you so close that I don’t think i'll be able to let you go anytime soon?

After dragging it out for another couple of months I had to let them go.

My bit of growing up-------------lots left for me.

Pehla Nasha...........

My elder daughter had her first crush when she was five.While she was lost in her dreams, I was the one having nightmares.

Loverna swung into action mode: I made sure she played with other kids, all other kids but “him”. Enrolled her in a different summer camp. Tried to convince her to take a window seat instead of sitting with “him”…..

Linda Goodman (yeah I read her enough times to remember even now) does not describe how having a Taurean for a mother makes the little ones, no matter when they are born, ten times more bull-headed. The Aquarian, with her head in the clouds, dug in her heels-----------deep

Logic met logic:

• Of course we can get married to friends. Mama just did it.
• Ok, if Srivastava is difficult to spell, I’ll use my own surname. My ma’am also does.

Well……..

Before she went on to deciding the names for her kids, Time, the greatest force since Mahabharta, took over. We moved to Bangalore. She made lots of new friends and became so involved in each day that future planning was relegated to the future.

A few months later, as I was dialing a number -Elena tugged urgently “Are you speaking to Raakhee Aunty?” Yes I was. “Please don’t ask me to speak to Kush”

L: Oh Wow!!!!!I mean Why?

E: Because I don’t know what to say to him.
It continued upto…….I don’t even remember how he looks. She was so embarrassed about the whole episode that it was never to be mentioned again.

I could sleep peacefully again.

Doosra nasha?????

Lately I’ve noticed Elena and her friend giggling and paddling only in one quarter of the pool instead of racing across the length like always. Me being paranoid or is it just coincidence that that area of the pool is in direct line of sight of a particular balcony? More coincidence-this happens only when that particular balcony is occupied by a particular kid.

Que Sara Sara? Yes, but I am still watching. That’s what Loverna is meant to do.