A Toy Story

Ok, this toy story calls for a disclaimer first. The views and opinions expressed in this post are solely mine and they do not in any way reflect my capabilities as a parent. My conclusions on child behavior and nurture are based on a very limited experience of 5 years plus 1.5 years and they should in no way be regarded as reflective of the children or parents of the whole universe.

The phone rings and before I can go pick say hello, tiny pair of hands make a grab for it “Hello Hello….who is it?? As if there was a knock on the door. I am watching the champions episode of “chopped” and just when the winner is about to be announced, the channel is switched, what happened? Even smaller pair of hands decided it was time to chop mommy’s TV time. And I haven’t even got to the details  of what happens when I decide to use my very own laptop, yes the one which has a couple of keys missing, more than a few visible scratches and has all the signs of being manhandled by a BABY!

Ever wondered why kids don’t play with toys these days? Because your cell phone, the TV remote and the laptop offer much more. And these are the same kids who want every possible toy in the store.

Go on, read the conversation that demonstrates my futile attempts towards trying to persuade my kindergartner to make use of her toys in her room.

Mom (which is me) : How about you play with your dolls in your room?

5 yr old: They are sleeping, it’s their nap time (playing with her toenails and not looking up while answering)

Mom : ok then, how about you play that princess game we got last week ?

5 yr old: nah, I have played with it enough, I am bored (eyeing the laptop I am working on)

Mom : Let’s see if you can cook something for me in your play kitchen, go fast !

5 yr old : Mooom (as if exhausted) I told you my dolls were sleeping, they will get disturbed if I make noise in the kitchen (the bed unfortunately is next to the kitchen in the princess’s room, not a practical arrangement, I realize )

Mom : why don’t YOU also go to your room and take a nap?

5 year old : Only if you come with me !

Reluctantly I bid goodbye to the laptop and go for a forced nap.

My dealings with the younger one are more straight forward. The tot in question being at an exceptionally dominating age of one and a half years and armed with the newly acquired skill of walking, we really don’t have much to argue about. Mommy’s watching TV, I don’t like it, step on the remote, change the channel. Mommy’s online chatting with her friend, how can she do that, I am not even sleeping, wham, slap whatever part of the  electronic device she can lay her tiny hands on, take out whatever keys she can at one go. Mind you, do not underestimate the power of tiny fingers and wobbly feet, they can give you a run for your laptop, oops, money, I mean same thing!

After many a disrupted chats, phone calls and TV shows, I have arrived at numerous conclusions (now comes the serious part). And by the way the previous line makes it sound like I am always either a) watching TV or b) talking on the phone or c) surfing the internet, I swear on whatever sanity left in me, that it is not so. The very instant I try and indulge on any of the above, fate intervenes in the form of family.


Kids do not play with their toys on their own. You have to play with their toys while they watch you or play with you depending on their mood.


Kids room is a place where toys are stalked and hoarded finally at the end of the day, till then they can be anywhere including in your shower, under the bed, in the kitchen drawers or in the dryer.


Be prepared for a sudden high pitch and a shrill “ now I know my ABCs..” coming out of a dumb looking elephant in the middle of the night, it has happened to me and it is only fair I warn others out there.


 Your electronic gadgets fascinate the kids more than their own toys not only because they  are interesting but also because they are yours.


Did I miss out on the serious part altogether?  Just a few random thoughts if you can make sense of the essence.


Technology can bridge distances and create some too. Television at mealtimes is for people who don’t have people in the house. Buying them the latest toy is no substitution for my time and the so called learning toys cannot teach anything better than me.


Sometimes I am pushing the stroller on the sidewalk with my baby in it and talking on the phone at the same time, not the safest thing to do. A  few other times I am checking emails on the phone with one hand and tucking her in for a nap with the other, not a good time to multi- task.


But that was then and this is now.
Now I know that if my baby throws my phone a part of it is thrill but a major part of it is jealousy, she vies for my attention every single minute. My princess doesn’t want to play by herself in her room; she wants to hang out with me. Now I know that I better make the most of it, soon I will have to knock on the door before she lets me in. 

Homesick

A lot happened in the last 2 months. And though all the words put together may not sufficiently describe what I want to say, I will make an honest attempt.

In the last 2 months I successfully completed a 30 hour journey to the other side of the world with my kids, one of whom qualifies to be an infant. “Successfully” is the key word here as I reached my destination sane and sound. Weeks of planning and packing did make the travel less difficult but I would still term the whole experience as best forgotten.

In the last 2 months I anticipated a few tears to flow but nothing prepared me for the overwhelming rush of emotions on seeing my loved ones at the airport. Over joyous on being with them again and sad to have missed their presence for such a long time, my heart swayed in either direction.

In the last 2 months I saw my children being spoilt silly by grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and for once I did not object.

In the last 2 months I slept in my room just as I used to 20 years back, next to Mom.

In the last 2 months I complained incessantly about the heat, traffic, rising prices, pollution and the roads. But when somebody asked me “would you move back if given a choice?” In a second, I replied.

In the last 2 months I met my school friends and met them again and those were the only friends I met.

In the last 2 months I visited the “Taj Mahal” and the “Akshardham” both of them unforgettable in their own way.

In the last 2 months I counted days everyday for my husband to join us, a reminder that eleven years of being together had not broken the magical connection.

Sadly, in the last 2 months I saw that my parents had grown older and weaker. Their understanding and acceptance of my life so far away did nothing to lessen my own guilt of not being there to take care of them.

In the last 2 months I went shopping every single day. For what?  Don’t ask. Women have their own way of figuring out what to buy once they head into a store.

In the last 2 months I indulged myself to restaurant and roadside food quite often but stuck to bottled water throughout, fully aware that I appeared to be a snob and in fact enjoying that status.

In the last 2 months I tried to squeeze in as much time as I could with my loved ones, scared to think about when next.

In the last 2 months I saw that my kids will never see India the way I do, it is after all my home, not theirs. 

Disturbed

A disturbed mind is an artist’s workshop. Explains why most of the creatively ingenious people led a disturbed life (most of them, anyways). In other words it is their sorrow that made them great. Pain led them to explore other avenues and subsequently what came out of them was applauded by the whole world.

And this makes me wonder why great things inside me don’t manifest themselves when I am disturbed. Does my disturbance lack enough depth or am I falling short in the creative department?

When I am upset, I slam doors, swear silently, yell at the kids and even lock myself up in a room. But never end up writing a masterpiece or cooking an exceptionally yummy mouth watering dish. So basically two things that I claim to be good at don’t stand by me in my hour of need.

And although this particular problem calls for a deep analysis, I am pretty much in consensus with the rest of the world about one aspect of the situation, I have what it takes!

This kind of confidence is good in a cut throat competitive scenario, but when there’s nobody to compete against, it is kind of a waste. So what happens when there is nothing to prove or nobody to challenge? The contrary creeps in. The apprehensive YOU eats away the self- assured YOU and from there on, it is downhill, all the way. You roll down faster than you climb up, states the law of physics.

Contentment is considered an ideal state of mind and like every other ideal thing on this earth, nearly impossible to achieve. Being content is like standing on a hoop, with proper training it is doable for a couple of minutes, but sooner or later, the balance is lost. And because you can fall either side, being content has two antonyms not one. Apathy and fidgety.

Being complacent for too long makes you vary of change. Wrapped in the cocoon of familiarity, you never realize when the confidence to step out of your comfort zone is lost. A day, not long ago, you believed you could conquer the world. Lethargy set in and now your world keeps getting smaller and smaller. Lethargy is a term related to the mind. The mind decides it cannot or does not want to do a certain thing, and the body obeys. This kind of indolence takes over the zeal for life and turns it into an inertness nobody wants to take notice of. As time passes you become oblivious; a non-entity; a person who has no personality left. If becoming this scares you, the alternative is even more frightening.

Ambition needs a harness. A thin invisible line separates ambition from greed and more often than not, it is crossed without a thought. Soon enough you are ruthless and restless, a victim of your own aspiration. If being lethargic made you imperceptible, being over ambitious will make you stand out, too much for your own good. In the quest to be noticeable, all you will take note of is yourself.

Since both of them are opposites of one particular word called “content”, a common thread runs through them, the consequence. You may have reached rock bottom or climbed the highest mountain. You will be alone and you will be lonely. In the first case, there isn’t much of you for people to see. Your loved ones will try and pull you out of the rubble, remind of you of the dynamite, which was once you, but you will be too lazy to take the effort. Life will go on for everybody else and for you too. Not even you will realize  that a part of you is dying. And in the other case if you choose to fly too high, not many will be able to keep pace with you. Your family, friends, people who matter, everybody will want to be a part of your journey, only as long as you let them be.

The disturbances in my day today force me to dwell on the issue of balance. Have I lost a part of me? Or have I become self indulgent? I ask myself these two questions almost simultaneously. 

A Special Mom

All children are special. Some, more than others.

When you become a mother and step out with your children, you start seeing things you wouldn’t have ordinarily noticed. You enter into a world shared by other moms; you travel into spaces where children are not one of but the only priority. 

You embark on a journey which has short term milestones like the 1^st year, toddler, teenager, grown up, but no finish line. One stage of your child’s life gets over only to usher in troubles associated with the next one. It is true, once you are a mother, you can’t stop being one, ever.

Along the way you learn. You learn from your own mother, your friends, even your children and of course the internet (!!).

Also along the way come clashes.

I maybe the perfect mother but I am not a perfect individual and sometimes the person in me overshadows the mother in me. Since the arrival of baby no.2 I have been gloating around town thinking I have done it all. I mean I stay at home with 2 kids (which is no mean feat by the way), cook, clean, socialize, entertain and even find time to write occasionally, can anybody possibly do more? In this superior state of mind, I conveniently choose to ignore that my tone goes from pleasant to that of irritation in no time while dealing with baby no.1.  Also forgotten is the fact that I whine for rest of the day if baby no.2 doesn’t take her scheduled nap. And, like any perfect mother, I do not like to be reminded of my limitations.

Last week when I was sick with food poisoning, hubby had to take our 5 year old for her dance class. Both of them came back pretty excited and were talking about new moves she had learnt that day. Mom there’s a new boy in our class, she informed. And he seems rather playful, remarked Daddy, but that’s how boys are and should be, he added.

I didn’t think much of it then, until the next class. And it was actually true. The new entrant was a cute little boy about the same age as my daughter, who seemed to be having a lot of fun in the class. It looked like he was there more to have a good time than to follow instructions. My focus was at that time was to keep baby no. 2 as quiet as possible and in between check on baby no.1’s moves, still it was obvious, he had difficulty concentrating. Busy persuading baby no. 2 to take a short nap; I couldn’t help overhear a conversation being carried on two chairs away.

A senior instructor was talking to the boy’s mother and what I could gather from their talks was that he was a special child and the teacher was discussing the best possible course of action with the mother. It was a long chat and I attentively hung on to every word exchanged (I guess it cannot be called eavesdropping since the people concerned were not whispering). The purpose of the whole conversation was to find ways to make that special child more independent and confident. I was very touched when the mother said, I can do everything for him, it is easier for me to do things for him then to teach him to do them, but that would only help me, not him.

Involuntarily, my mind started to introspect. How many times did I zip up my toddler’s jacket or tie her shoe laces when she took more than a minute (that too with an impatient frown)? Then there were these occasions when I sat with her do a craft project and did major portions myself because it would have taken ages and a lot of explaining otherwise. It was so much easier to do it yourself than wait endlessly for a simple job to be done.

And more recently, my year old baby threw tantrums everyday to feed herself and I kept finding new songs to sing at mealtimes so that she let me feed her. All this trouble so that there was a lesser mess for me to clean up.

I would have dug deeper into myself if not for the kids who came running to their mommies as the class ended, including mine. By now I was observing this special mom with new insight. Her son was still looking for clothes and shoes while rest of the kids were already on their way out. She gave various clues about the number and the color of the cubby which contained his stuff but he was busy counting squares. She then played a game with him pointing towards his shoes asking him where did the finger go?  He kissed his mom’s finger and jumped in her arms giving her a big hug. Gently she pulled him aside and said lets crawl like bears and find your shoes. That seemed to do the trick and they landed near the right cubby.

Honestly, I struggled to hold back tears in public. They were not tears of sympathy for the special child or for his mother, they were tears of shame.

A mother is a child’s connection to the world right from inside the womb. She follows her mother, she learns from her mother and she tries to be like her mother. The child may be ordinary or he may be special, should it make any difference? A mother should do what she is supposed to do.

Bigger sacrifices always find their mention somewhere but what about the small things that a mother does every day?  To me, this mother is very special not because her child has special needs, but because she does the ordinary things with a special touch.

I do not know if I will be the perfect mom I claim to be. I do not know if my children will grow up admiring me or aspiring to be like me. Today, all I know is, from now on, if I can do the everyday ordinary things right, it will be a job well done.

I want my Mommy NOW

A few people exercise to lose weight and a few more go on a strict diet to shed those extra pounds. A Lazy few like me are fortunate enough to get diarrhea.  

It all started with Baby no. 1 demanding that I cook something sweet that day. Unfortunately I am not one of those moms who will embark on a cooking spree at 2 in the afternoon just to please their toddlers. There are other ways to please them, one of which being driving to the store and buying the desired dessert. Which is what I did. Because if you discount the trouble of coaxing kids into a car seat, driving is much better than cooking when you have just finished lunch and loaded the dishwasher to its maximum capacity.

The ulterior motive behind driving to the store was that sweet tooth runs in my family and by that I mean my Mom and Dad and Uncle and Aunt and cousins and the list goes on, basically, MY own family. Many find it strange that I still put my parents and the extended family on that side before anybody else when I talk about family. Tradition demands that once married, your husband’s family is your family and it should take precedence. I happen to have a different take on it. Well, I am not saying that I am not a part of my husband’s family, but do you honestly expect me to consider anybody at par with the mother who gave birth to me or the father who dots on me since the day I was born or my sibling who I grew up with? Folks, I am not going to mince words here, the in- laws are very special to me, the bond with them tremendously strong, but my parents’ place in my heart is irreplaceable. I would be doing a hell lot of injustice to them if I allowed that.

See this is the problem of amateur writers; they don’t know a thing about keeping a story on track.

So we were discussing a sweet tooth. We came back with a box full of goodies. Thank God that baby no. 1 fell asleep in the car and baby no. 2 was too small to have store bought desserts. Both these occurrences, on which I had no control, sealed my fate. There lay the box of sweets right in front of me with nowhere to go but the tummy. Fast forward 2 hours later, I am horribly sick with food poisoning and the house is in chaos as hubby can’t figure out who to attend to and how.

The downside of being an adult is when you are sick, you can’t wail at the top of your voice and you got to figure out how sick you are. Do you need a doctor or will waiting help? Should you take some medicine or give it some time? Decisions, decisions. Things were simpler when medicine was poured down your throat whether you wanted it or not.

I was miserable all day and had asked to be left alone in the room to get some rest. But as hours passed I wasn’t sure if I was feeling any better, in fact emotionally I was feeling sicker. I wanted a hand on my forehead gently trying to put me to sleep. I wanted the reassurance of being told that I was going to be all better soon. I longed to hear those stern words telling me to eat something even if I felt like throwing up.  

Since I was unavailable, the kids needed even more of their Dad. He tried his best to juggle duties with little success. I was sick, but I was not a child.

Children change life irrevocably. You can’t afford to be weak when you are parents. Your children look up to you and you can’t let them down. Knowing this didn’t stop me from being a little girl again.

Way past mid-night I sat in the rocking chair in the guest bedroom, unable to hold it any longer. Silent tears gave way to sobs and soon I was shivering and crying uncontrollably. A very light sleeper, hubby rushed into the room in panic assuming the worst. Since I wouldn't stop crying, he couldn’t figure out what I wanted and kept on asking what he could get for me. And between muffled sobs I said I want my Mommy, NOW.

Customer Service

Step into a store and browse for a while. In no time you will be pleasantly greeted by a customer service representative asking you if you needed any help. Most of us decline and make a positive note about the store and its personnel. Accept the offer of help and watch the smile decline.

11 a.m on a Tuesday is hardly a time one would expect a footwear store to be crowded and it wasn’t. I was the only customer who walked in and that should have given the person at the register something to cheer up about. But I suppose a baby in one of the arms, a diaper bag in another, a sling bag dangerously close to coming off the shoulder and car keys dangling out of the right pocket didn’t make me look like a real shopper. The lady at the desk mouthed her customary words “let me know if you need help finding something” in a well practiced tone meant to convey assistance. I mumbled ok and walked further inside the aisles for I was on a mission today. I needed a pair of black sandals that had heels but not too high, appeared glossy but didn’t shine too much, were simple to wear and yet stylish enough for any occasion. And yes, they would have to go with any damn thing I wore. According to me it wasn’t asking for too much.

Dear hubby had patiently accompanied me to a couple of stores over the weekend and even tried to convey as subtly as possible that what I was looking for was actually 3 different kinds of footwear. Do you even know what you are looking for, he asked, nearly on the verge of breaking down from the sheer exertion of watching so many sandals being tried on and tossed aside. Of course I do, that’s why we are still looking, I said. If not I would have simply picked up the first pair I liked. In the end we both knew if there ever was any hope of finding those perfect black sandals, it had to be done by me alone.

The only hitch to that being, technically speaking I am never alone. I sometimes have an infant stuck at the hip, other times I have a toddler pulling at my sleeve, most of the times, I have both. The exceptional occasions when I am kid-free, my mind is not.

If it has to be either of them, I try not to go shopping with the toddler because these days she has her own shopping list ready before mine. The baby saves me some money but makes it difficult to shop. Like today. Once again the familiar stage was set. I had a row of sandals lined up at my feet waiting to be tried on, a task not as easy as I had to balance myself while holding baby no.2 who decided to swing in action that very minute. She spotted the sales lady sorting some shoes a little distance away. “EEEEEE” baby no. 2 calls at her wildly waving hands as if thrilled to bump into an old friend. Having recently experienced the horrors of what happens next, I braced for the worst possible reaction.

Nothing so dramatic happened. The lady came a few inches closer and asked me a few customary questions like how old is she and isn’t cute? The sweet talk seemed to have healed baby no.2’s bruised ego and she happily looked away at the colorful footwear. I followed her eyes and there on the top rack I found my perfect sandals.

Now comes the customer service part. Struggling with my belongings and a happy baby, I asked for help. Of course, the lady said in a voice slightly higher than the welcome address and with a note of faint irritation. I was in no mood to forgive. I gave her a look which if translated into words would have meant this – listen up lady, I haven’t asked you to change a diaper or carry the baby to the car, I am just asking you to take those black sandals out of the top rack and bring them to the counter where I can pay for them. Incidentally, you asked me twice if I needed assistance and also since the store is empty but for me, you might as well make a customer happy!

For the second time in the day I was relieved to be out without hubby, he would have approved of neither the look nor the sandals. 

The Social Network - Part II

Coming to the next episode, baby no. 2 who has been extremely shy and unfriendly till date suddenly decided that her social skills needed improvement. When a 10 month old wants to broaden her horizons beyond mommy, there is bound to be trouble.

With baby no. 2 trying to reach out to anyone and everyone in sight, a few valuable lessons were learnt.  The world suddenly seemed divided into two kinds of people. One, who adore babies and do not try to hide it, the other kind, not so fond of babies but try not to show it.

Behavioral analysis has never been my subject of study or expertise but when presented with 50 minutes of idle time, an infant and those two kinds of people, all in the same room, scrutiny seemed inevitable.

Baby no. 1 started with a dance class. Not a serious kind of dance but the types where girls giggle and hop and jump and learn a few moves. I fail to understand the significance of classes these days where kids are so young, not only do they have to be dropped and picked up but also be accompanied by an adult during the duration of the class. More like a punishment for the adult. Sure, I love to watch my daughter do stuff, learn new things and dance with a couple of other kids but not every Wednesday and not for nearly an hour and definitely not with a restless baby in tow eager to try out a few moves herself.

So while the girls all take position with their teacher, the parents, mostly moms are provided with chairs to sit and watch from a little higher up. I take my place between two other moms, one of who warmed up to baby no.2 instantly. For her part, the baby needed no further encouragement.  She cooed and grinned and even offered the friendly lady her pacifier, now that was a huge step! Me, I was happier than the baby herself. Someone else entertaining the baby is always a huge relief, even if for a short while. After sometime, baby turned direction and set off to conquer the attention of another person sitting on the chair a little away. Using the same tactics, baby no.2 started cooing and calling out with a smile guaranteed to melt any heart (ok, that’s the mother in me speaking). Unfortunately the object of her affection had better things to do. She was intently watching the dance floor where her son or daughter must be participating and baby no. 2 was a distraction. She smiled back once and continued watching, a clear dismissal. Baby no.2 was in mood to accept rejection. She called out again, first in soft tones and then louder, demanding attention. My effort to calm the baby with a pacifier resulted in it flying, landing on an empty chair.

By now I was embarrassed and angry. Embarrassed to be the mother of this ill mannered child (wait, do infants know a thing about manners?) and angry at myself for not being able to keep her quiet (lack of control!). Another important lesson learnt. The concept of a controlling mom, simply a myth.

I had always thought it was impossible to ignore a baby in either case smiling or screaming. That sweet lady did prove me wrong. She just sat at her place ignoring all advances by baby no.2. To her credit, she didn’t appear to be irritated. Wisely, I stepped out of the class to amuse baby no. 2 with friendlier things in view like the green trees and a flying bird.

We drove back home humming songs on the radio, me and my princess while baby no.2 gazed away into nowhere out of her car seat. Was she sad at being ignored, I wondered. Nah, I said to myself, the remarkable thing about being a baby is all you need is your mommy. She is your world, everything else almost nonexistent. And someday when she is old enough I will tell her, the same goes for mommy too. (hope Dad isn’t reading this!).