The Puds

I've been reading over some of these entries and realised how little I blog about my daughter. When she grows up and reads this blog, she's going to be really mad at me, so it's high time I change that. First of all, let me start by revealing her age - 17 months - and her unlovely nickname - Puddi. I don't know where that came from. Putti means little one in Kannada, so that may be where it originated. I remember having many more nicknames for our son, little A, though most of them were shortlived. This poor thing seems saddled with this nickname for much longer.

Anyway, back to the start. Even when we conceived our first child, I was desperately keen on a girl. All my instincts were telling me that it was going to be a boy and I tried not to trust them because I was so keen on a girl. In fact, after I finally found out - a couple of days before delivery - I was actually disappointed. Of course, I got over my disappointment pretty quickly, and love him to bits but still...I yearned for a daughter I could dress up in girly clothes, who would steal all my best clothes and make up and jewelry, who would become my friend as she grew up...So when we finally conceived the second time around, I was even more keen that we have a girl. I warned my husband that in case the second one also turned out to be a boy, we would just have to adopt a girl, and he would just have to put up with having three kids, because it was all his fault - his and that chromosome he added or forgot to add.

In little A's case, we had a name picked out from the time we were dating. In Puddi's case, we decided that the name we had picked in our dating days was too complex - we had chosen Lyla ( to be pronounced as Leela/ Layla/ Leila, as either set of relatives chose). It just seemed a little too precious so we started a name hunt some months before she was born - I scoured international name sites, because the name had to be religion-neutral yet with a nice meaning, and we eventually came up with a set of three names - Naina, Alena and Alyssa - all girl names.All the names I liked and we picked out were girl names. On the last day before she was born, we panicked and finally chose a boy's name, but didn't have to use it.

The two pregnancies were completely different. The first time around, my hair just refused to grow, and since I had had it cut short just before conceiving, it looked terrible through out. My skin, which has always been good, started looking terrible. I couldn't keep any food down, and exercise, apart from walking, was forbidden due to various reasons. The second time, the first indication of my pregnancy, at least to me, was that my skin started glowing. My hair grew faster than ever before, and it shone, I was eating enough for four, I felt well and continued working out till my ninth month. I had a feeling it was going to be a daughter, but again hesitated to trust my instincts, just because I was so keen on a daughter...Thankfully, we did finally get the daughter I had always wanted.

I remember bonding with her much faster than I did with my son, and I felt a little guilty about it, until my best friend wisely reminded me that when little A was born, I was still a girl and wife, but when Puddi was born, I was already a mother. I think she was right about that.

Each and every day, I can't wait to go back home and play with her. Just in the last three months, she has changed so much. She has started speaking more words, become more clear about what she wants. When she's hungry or sleepy, she'll actually walk up to us and say, "Doo doo dedo". Then she picks up her bottle, jams it in her mouth, walks over to the mattress in the family room, and plonks her head down on the pillow, while still standing so her legs are straight and her rump is sticking up in the air. Then she does a complicated wriggle and keels over to one side, thus landing the rest of her body on the bed - usually dislodging the pillow in the process!

When I get home from work, she can recognise my footstep upon the stairs - she starts yelling 'Mamma' even before I've reached the door. As soon as I'm inside, I have to pick her up, regardless of whatever else is in my hand. No way can I take a loo break before I've cuddled her for five minutes - she yells her head off. She thinks all closed doors are called 'Abba', so she starts banging on the closed bathroom door and yelling 'Abba' at the top of her rather powerful voice if I do.

In the morning, she wakes up in a cuddly but chuckly mood. The first thing she does is yell for her father, "Abba!" She can't wait to get out of her room and start the day. The next thing, in case little A is still sleeping is to start yelling for him from across the room - 'Baiyya! otho' (That's the way she pronounces utho). She snuggles into my husband's arms when he picks her up in the morning, her head tucked into his neck, and one chubby little arm around each of my husband's shoulders.

She loves trying everything her brother does, whether it's riding the tricycle, jumping off the sofa or making paper planes and boats out of every blessed piece of paper which finds its way into our house. When he's asleep for the day, she still wants to play, so if a few pats of his face and loud 'otho's are not doing the trick, she picks up his hand and bites it. She really enjoys eating, and walks around the room, mouth wide open, saying 'Aaa', anytime anyone is eating anything at all. Highly adventurous about food, she has tried all kinds of fruit, vegetables, and even a green chilly. She sneaks dahi out of the fridge, or simply begs for it off my plate until she gets the bowl. She likes the few bits of toffee (tottee) that she has had so far, and knows they are kept on top of the fridge, so she keeps pointing upwards and asking for tottee all day long. When she doesn't get it, she pulls the little plastic stool from the kitchen up to the fridge and tries to reach up to the tottee, all 2 feet or so of her. And she has inherited the family temper - when she doesn't get what she wants, she flings herself dramatically onto the floor and just lies there staring at everybody, hoping this qualifies as a tantrum.

She loves swings and can spend hours on them. The minute she sees my dad she runs to his lap and starts wiggling her index fingers, singing 'Two little dickey birds...' Of course, she has it mixed up with 'Four fat sausages', so the last line of the song is 'One went bang', at which she gleefully claps her hands together. She loves playing goofy games with her brother and running from one corner to the other. She is almost never still, except when asleep. She loves dancing, and her latest favourite song is a ridiculous little number called "Kehndi Pom pup the Jam". The minute she hears it, her round little behind sways from side to side. These days she's starting adding head and arm movements to her dance repertoire, apart from singing 'Pom pom pom pom'. She loves laughing, and when she does show her wide grin, four large teeth shine through, surprisingly not making her look like a rabbit.

My favourite part of the day is when she plops herself on my lap, one plump leg splayed out on each side and plays with me. If I'm wearing jewelry with stones in it, she thinks they are tottees and tries to eat them. She pulls my hair. She suddenly rears up and throws her whole body back, so if I'm not holding her tight she's liable to fall. Then she'll jerk forward with equal abruptness, her teak-hard head butting into my chest with all the force of a cannonball. And then when she's weary, she'll rest her head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat and humming to herself, her whole weight sinking softly and limply and trustingly into my body...Those are the times when I feel I just cannot hold her close enough...Those are the times when 24 hours in a day are not enough time to spend with her...Those are the moments when I realise being a mother is the best thing in the whole world...