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A special thank you to the few special people who are still reading my blog.

I had given up.

On one front, I had a tag around my neck, announcing I was a part of the rat race again-bringing with it the usual office drama, driving through Bangalore traffic, and coming back to kids' homework and class tests.
And on the other, it was the bindis and bangles, reminding me that it was "adjustment" time again.

But then there's nothing wrong with a bindi or bangles, isn't it? Just a tiny adjustment to keep the family happy?

Oh, but they are still unhappy over so many other things.
So I make few more little adjustments.
Don't wear what I want to.
Eat what I don't want to. Don't eat when I need to...
But then what's a little bit of acidity or some headaches when it comes to the family's happiness?

The family was however unhappy, because I slept when I wanted to.

How do I find the will or the space to think, feel, talk or write?
By counting the blessings that I have it so much better than so many other women?
After all, as so many other women rationalize, it is the family's happiness that matters. Doesn't it?

Yeah, but I fail to ensure that, once again!
And just got back to being myself.

Sisterly love

Yes it’s incomparable.

If you have grown up with one, or a mom to a pair who are bickering incessantly, constantly, you know what I mean. Like most Moms, I too have developed selective hearing and manage to tune out most of the

She did it first…

She always…

..and react only when it reaches the level of..

It’s bleeding, look she scratched me!

That’s enough.

If you don’t stop behaving like cats and dogs I’m changing your names to Tommy and..well Kitty..

Oh! Can I be Kitty? She always growls like a dog anyway.

How dare you? You are the one who runs howling to Mom. You Tommy Shooo

Shall I scratch you again and show you? You…

Too late to take back my words, I tune them out again.

Motherhood does teach you some amazing skills!

This time of the year…

..when the drumbeats announce the arrival of Goddess Durga and the Bong in me gets homesick-again.

Yeah I miss the fun and those friends.

And since some moments do not come back we go forward and create new memories. This is a glimpse of the Dusshera  procession from the southern-most tip of India-Kanyakumari.

So different, and yet the enthusiasm is the same. Isn’t it?

Wishing you a great time this festival season!

Best Friends Forever

Mamma, can you guess who is my BFF?

Ishita? Well she was the one you loved to play with most as she has the most awesome collection of Barbie accessories.

NO. She is not my friend anymore. Last time she bought chips from the canteen she did not share all of them. Cheater.

Saumyaa is my best friend now.

She shares everything. I also like playing with her little brother and we always have so much fun together.

Some days later she was in tears because she would have to miss Saumyaa’s birthday party. It was on the day we were travelling to Goa. No amount of cajoling would convince her ….

I know I’ll like Goa but it’s not the same thing Mamma. I’ll be missing all the fun and games in the party.

Yes I know we’ll be partying in Goa also, but MY FRIENDS will not be there.

You can take me to her house another day to play with her, but IT’S NOT THE SAME THING! I won’t be wearing my pink party frock or the heels, will I?

She won’t be giving me a return gift either.

A muffled sob and tear filled eyes-and I could see all the heartbreak.

The next day she practically jumped on me in sheer joy!!

Mom, I have such GREAT news. You won’t believe it! Saumyaa is having her party a day before we are leaving!!!!!

Now I’ll have to reschedule all my plans for the evening, the last minute shopping and packing, returning library books, and instead will be picking up a gift and driving this lady to and from the party.

..but then it’s her best friend’s birthday

Letting them be

....what they want to be.

That’s what we should be doing. Teaching them to fly and then letting them free to go explore, build their own nests, and fight their own battles.

But as my chicks are trying out their new wings I am not sure how well I’ll be able to do that.

My 10-year-old says that she shouldn’t be spending too much time on her studies because anyway she is going to be a fashion designer, or an actress, or a dancer. (The logic-they are fun, you get famous and you don’t need to study).

I cannot find the words to cheer her on-so I resort to my Loverna-like manipulations. Introduce her to more interesting ways to study, tweak her selection of books at the library, and try to get her to explore more options by enrolling her in a Robotics class.

This, she enjoyed. It was not like regular school. They got to watch videos, work hands on with building and programming robots, and as a final workshop, even design and build a robot of their own choice.

They called the parents to see the final presentations and it was really impressive. There was robot for picking up debris. One racing car robot which had sensors to stop it from crashing. There was one which had a pencil attached to follow simple writing instructions (has the potential to be developed into a homework tool).

And here is Elena’s robot.

She is a ballerina, designed to take perfect pirouettes.

Well, technology is also fun, but she can get distracted only to this extent.  

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.,,

Words that live on

Remember the days we prepared for exams and dreamt of the holidays to follow? I always had a long list of things to do in the vacations-that I would keep updating as I would make notes for the exam next day. And then the vacations would be over before I got to point no. 2 or 3 on the list.The same things happened to my blog. The last few months I kept pushing off things because I would be free in a few weeks. And then,   things just got busier and crazier till I forgot what I wanted to write about. Some of the things didn’t matter anymore…

Just one incident that still finds me shaken was reading about IHM’s daughter. Something no mother should have to go through, something that is so brutal, so final…

I remember holding my grandfather’s hand for hours as he turned to a cold block of wood. And I felt furious at the hordes of relatives who descended and suddenly started calling him “the body”. He was still my grandfather. I was praying so hard. He would of course draw in a breath again…

But he did not. 

There was no hope.

How does a mother deal with such a moment?

I salute you IHM. Your courage is amazing.

And so are your daughter’s words, which are a beacon to all mothers like me..

Why such a late tribute? Because I cannot go on to my blog without thinking of you. Isn’t it strange, when we don’t even know each other, except just through our words?

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.

Another Gym, Another Woman

I could not go to the Gym yesterday as I had some urgent work to finish. And well today is Saturday, and tomorrow is Sunday…


And then I remembered the story of an unknown woman so like me, which had come in an email forwarded many times over:


Dear Diary,


For my birthday this year, I purchased a week of personal training at the local health club. Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear.Friends seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.


________________________________


MONDAY:


Started my day at 6:00 am. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Christo waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god-- with blond hair, dancing eyes, and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!


Christo gave me a tour and showed me the machines.. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!


Christo was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time he was around.


This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!


________________________________


TUESDAY:


I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door.. Christo made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then he put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. His rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT! It's a whole new life for me.


_______________________________


WEDNESDAY:


The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.


Christo was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.


My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Christo put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Christo told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other shit too.


_______________________________


THURSDAY:


A****** was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late-- it took me that long to tie my shoes.


He took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny b**** to find me.


Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine-- which I sank.


_________________________________


FRIDAY:


I hate that bastard Christo more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic, little aerobic instructor. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.


Christo wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.


The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?


________________________________


SATURDAY:


Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing his voice made me want to smash the machine with my planner; however, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.


________________________________


SUNDAY:


I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my husband will choose a gift for me that is fun-- like a root canal or a hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds!!!

Gym Update

I resolved not to be too put off by the PT, and crawled with my aching muscles, into that attic full of monstrosities again. 


They have out up a new height v/s weight chart. According to this one, I am just 6 (and not 11) kg.s overweight. 


I like this room a lot better now.

My Gym Diary

I celebrated my day at home by finally visiting the gym. My gym diary actually starts six..or eight..or maybe ten months ago.

I walked in to this room full of contraptions and found only one which looked familiar—the weighing machine. Looking just as diligent as all other inhabitants of that planet full of huffing-aliens, sweating profusely on swooshing machines, I too clambered on to this one.

The numbers proved I just did not belong and I walked out, promising to visit every day, starting next week.

Some weeks (just about 10 or 12 of them) later, I walked in more resolutely, did a few rounds on the weighing machine and told the trainer I was ready to sign on—from next month (well it was only 2 weeks away).

A few more weeks later-I asked the trainer if I could start from the beginning of the next month. (See-I am persistent.)

“Ma’am, we’ll start your month from the day you join. (Gosh-after Julius Ceasar and Augustus, now the calendar moves around for ME!!) You can start today.”
“Oh, well, but…My kids will be home soon (Today is too soon, Come on..I am a busy mother). I’ll start on Monday.”

After a lot of Mondays, the trainer assures me: “Ma’am, please try the program for a week or two. You can pay after you decide to continue” (Someone more persistent than me?)

OK. Done.

I booked the slot for the next day and left, determined not to let him down again. (Yes, I was feeling duty-bound to join)

At the appointed hour, I was rushing Elena to the hospital to get her chin stitched up.

I didn’t get the time to try out that one familiar machine for months. Today, I finally went and told him I was ready to take the plunge.

And I felt so let down when he made me do only a few exercises (quite like the disgusting P.T. in school) and said I wouldn’t be ready to take a flight on those swashbuckling spaceships for atleast a week.

I am not sure I want to go back tomorrow.

When the going gets tough..

Some get tougher,

Some give up,

Some hate it

And some are grateful…


Like me
Because it made me rethink my priorities


And pushed me into taking a decision which I would have kept pushing away for tomorrow

Yeah. It’s not easy admitting that I am not supermom.
That I need to drop a ball or two, to be able to keep dribbling, bouncing, juggling the others
I am taking a break from work.

And instead of feeling euphoric, I am scared.
Will I be able to do something useful?
What if it doesn’t work out?

Will I be able to get back to what I was doing?
What if…

Well things might not work out
But, as the cliche says, I’ll be glad to have tried my best

And maybe, they do work out;
And I’ll be grateful for these days..

...The blog was one of the first balls to get dropped, will it bounce back?