Running Away

Read a book titled “Escape” by Barbara Delinsky. I wouldn’t call myself a fan of these kind of books (the kind you can re-read after a year only vaguely remembering a few things as the book progresses) but off late I have formed a habit of reading something light after a couple of intense reads. Danielle Steel stories seem too predictable to me (no offense to the author as they obviously sell like hot bricks). So I settle for a Barbara Delinsky or a Nicholas Sparks or an Anita Shreve book. The last name on the list however has a thing for tragedies, not my cup of tea when in mood for light reading. Which makes me come back to the basic question, what do I consider as a “light” read?

It has to be fast paced, have a little bit of soul and be interesting enough.  It should of course refresh me to serve its basic purpose. It’s like you haven’t lost out on anything great if you didn’t read it but if you did; it wasn’t a waste of time.

Anyway, so I finished this book in more or less one day, skipping a few lines here and there and mostly enjoyed it. It tells the story of a woman who wants to escape her everyday life for the time being. Just when I finished reading the last page, it was time to go so I grabbed the car keys and headed out for my daughter’s swim lessons, the book still fresh in my mind.

And I thought to myself, where would I go if I felt like running away? I thought and I thought for a couple of minutes and yet no answers came. That kind of scared me. Not having anywhere to go other than where I was. I mean, shouldn’t I have a contingency plan in place if things didn’t work out?

Now I seriously started thinking, contemplating places or people I would go to if I ever needed to escape. The first word that came to my mind was Mommy. Well, don’t be shocked, most of the people call out to their moms in times of distress. But I know I wouldn’t go to Mom and dad, it would be too obvious and whatever I was trying to escape from could easily follow me there. Another thing is I would probably be in need of space and not advise if I had chosen to escape and moms really didn’t fare well in that department.

Next on the list would be a friend. But my best friend lives far away in another country; do I know anybody who lives closer and will let me in for an indefinite period of time without asking questions? Nope.

I could go to my sister, two flights and a couple of hours away. Yea, she would be happy to see me and glad to help but would I be able to ask for help?

And the last thought steered the entire deliberation in a different direction. Now the question was do I trust anybody enough to reveal my inner fears or doubts other than the person I married (my children are still too young to share worries)? And suddenly it felt like it wasn’t just my question but more of an entire generation. We, who no longer live close to our families, who make and break friendships on facebook and who dare not ring the bell at a neighbor’s house without reason.

It is my personal experience and observation and I could be wrong here that we are becoming less and less vulnerable. You can think of it as a good survival tool in this world of cut throat competition or as an obstacle which prevents you from getting close to people around you. Do we trust anybody anymore?  Why are we so guarded all the time? Think about this, thanks to the internet and the i-phones we have more and more contacts, but when the time comes how many of them would you actually contact?

As the pondering continues I laugh out loud. So much for a light read!  I had to admit a work of fiction got me thinking (I am sure that wasn’t the intention of the author!)

In the end I have to confess that although my thoughts to escape were all imaginary, the sentiments they evoked were not.

Moving

“Thousand miles apart

You in my heart

Me in your heart

Will never depart”

“So, will I never see her again”? Asks my daughter. And I really don’t know what to say. There are a number of answers that come to my mind. “Of course you will. We will all go and meet them next year” OR “Maybe after a couple of years she will come visit us” OR “you never know what future holds in store, who knows both of you, might go to the same college”! none of which will sound convincing to my 5 year old as at that age they really can’t see beyond weekends , play dates and B’days. Also theirs is a world of definitive occurrences, probability is not a concept they are very familiar with.

Our friends are moving to another State and their daughter happens to be best friends with my daughter. I knew about the move some time back and pondered over how to break the news to Saachi. I could either tell her a month before and prepare her so that she had time to let it sink in or tell her a day before to spare her from the that sink – “ing” feeling of saying good bye to a friend. I decided on the latter.

Because the sentiment of moving away is still raw and fresh in our minds. We haven’t  yet completed a year at this new place. Though we are pretty much settled here now for the time being, there isn’ t a day which goes by when we don’t mention or think about our old home in that small mountain town. Personally, I feel we moved for the better but that still doesn’t take away the pain of going away from a place you made your home for many years.

For people like us who move where employment takes us, it’s a sequence which repeats itself. Move to a new place, hate it at first, feel lonely, fall sick because of change in weather, slowly start getting to know people around, explore the new place, make new friends, decorate the apartment, kids are happy and settled at school, finally feels like home, time to move AGAIN.

And you leave the place you hated on arrival and now are scared to leave, land at this new city, new surrounding, not knowing what to expect and who to trust. It is under that scenario that you meet and make friends like these, who are now leaving. People you knew for a short while but got along well. Families, which opened their homes and hearts; accepted you and made you a part of their lives without hesitation.  Strangers , who in no time turned into friends.

Moving is a pain, I have heard many people complain and most of them mean it in the physical sense. How hard it is to pack and unpack and find a new home and re-arrange your whole life. I find it harder to move away from the relationships I built. It is always more about people and less about the place.

So, to my friends I left behind in Colorado – I miss you all and will always remember every one of you. To my friends who are leaving – Good luck and don’t forget us!

And to my daughter, all I said was this – we moved from Colorado to this place and yet very soon one of your old friends is going to come see you isn’t  that true, what does it mean? My question gave her the hope my answers couldn’t have.

Festive Fun

What is it about festivals that make you so emotional? They make you miss home even more and they remind you of your childhood days when life was as simple as a laugh or a tear.

As festivals come closer I try and muster as much enthusiasm as I can and jump into preparations/celebrations but still fall short as compared to my 5 year old.  Don’t get me wrong, I do love all festivals and the decorations, the food and everything that go with them but there is a fundamental difference, I am THE mom now!

It is so hard not to reminisce about those days when mom fussed about my new dress and dad took endless pictures of the smile that seemed to get brighter and brighter with each click. I still have memories of my childhood home which came alive with lights and colorful decorations and back then it felt like I had a lot to contribute to it but now I know the truth. All I did was choose the color and chatter nonstop about this and that while mom and dad did the real work. And the food, how can I ever forget the food, every dish cooked at home, hours and hours of preparations in the kitchen. So many things made especially because I liked to eat them. It was a time I was the most loved person in the house, till my sibling came along. Festivals then were fun and more fun.

The roles have reversed and how!

Now, festivals are fun and more work. With change comes appreciation. Appreciation for things and people you took for granted because they were always there. Did I even have the faintest idea how tiring festivals were for my parents? Not then, but now I do. Did I even vaguely comprehend how much effort went into creating a joyous environment in the house no matter what the circumstances, which made every festival so much more enjoyable? Probably not then, but now I do. Did I ever thank my parents for all the wonderful memories of each and every festival? Not then, but now I probably should!

As I watch my children grow I know now why festivals were more fun as kids. It was an enjoyment that went without any responsibility.  One of the many advantages of being a child.

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.