My kids are as yet pretty young and have an age-gap of just three years. Though my daughter, littler a is just 16 months old, she shows signs of being spiriteed and having a temper, so she and my 4 and a half year old son do squabble from time to time. But yesterday night, little A, our son, said something amazing.
"We didn't have any fun before Puddi* came, na?"
My husband, A, said, "Of course we did. Why do you say that?"
Little A, "Because she's so cute and so fun to be around."
* Puddi is our unlovely nickname for littler a.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Krishna Leela
Stories of Bal Krishna always talk about his various acts of mischief in hunting out butter and curds. Today we came upon a similar scene in our house.
Our 16 month old daughter littler a loves curds and is always eager for more. This evening, we found the modern version of Krishna- Leela. She had opened the fridge, found a cup full of curds and was happily digging into it with both hands. hands, clothes and face were smeared with the stuff!
Our 16 month old daughter littler a loves curds and is always eager for more. This evening, we found the modern version of Krishna- Leela. She had opened the fridge, found a cup full of curds and was happily digging into it with both hands. hands, clothes and face were smeared with the stuff!
Friday, October 26, 2007
Siblings
When we were expecting our second child, we knew we had to be careful about how to break this into little A's world, since he had been the only child in the family for a good three years. We diligently spoke to him about the new baby and how it would be a great playmate for him, pointed to our own siblings and in general tried to reassure him that it would be a fun experience.
The poor kid! First of all, when he came to the hospital the day of the delivery, his visit unfortunately coincided with my being wheeled out of surgery and in a state of general anesthesia-induced oblivion, which really spooked him out. Then, when he saw the baby, his face fell. This mewling, red, tiny little thing was expected to be his playmate/ friend?
He was really disappointed by the baby-ness of the new entrant, and the fact that I had to spend oodles of time with it didn't help, and neither did the fact that I couldn't play with him at the time, thanks to various reasons. He went through his share of tantrums and jealousies over the year.
He was really disappointed by the baby-ness of the new entrant, and the fact that I had to spend oodles of time with it didn't help, and neither did the fact that I couldn't play with him at the time, thanks to various reasons. He went through his share of tantrums and jealousies over the year.
One of the most rewarding sights to see, however, a year and a half after the baby entered our lives, is them interacting and playing together. Littler a watches her big bro in fascination and imitates everything he does, from sitting on the tricycle to trying to do paltis. And Big brother little A loves to entertain her with his crazy antics and make her laugh. He even insists on pushing her stroller when we go for a walk, hugs her when she cries ( usually when he's snatched back his toy that she has been playing with) and gives her a taste of whatever he's eating ( I really have to watch out when he does that, since many of the things he eats may not be ok for a toddler). My husband, A, took a great picture of them this weekend, which says it all!
Cross posted at Desi Momz Club
Working and Stay-at-Home Moms
Honestly, I don't know why this issue turns into an us versus them debate whenever it comes up - online or off. Maybe both sides feel vulnerable and get extra assertive to prove that they're in the better position. I've been on both sides of the coin. I had to quit when I was 3 months pregnant due to having a job that required lots of travelling which I couldn't do due to complications. I didn't see the sense in joining a new place only to go on mat. leave in 6 months, so I stayed home for the duration. I did enjoy it for a while, loved the fact that I could sleep in and laze about, but it got old fast. All my friends were working women so it was very difficult to find someone to hang out with.
I've never been an overly maternal type of person, so it shocked me when I turned maternal after my son was born. For 6 months after he arrived, I stayed home, mostly because I couldn't face the thought of leaving him at home with a caretaker all day. Even though I was bored and longing for adult company. Somehow I just didn't want to only hang out with other moms, because I felt the conversation was too focussed.
Eventually a wonderful half day job fell into my lap and I thought - ok, let me try this out. Initially it was hard but eventually I got used to it, and he got used to having me go to office. After my daughter was born, however, a wonderful full time job, an opportunity I had been looking for, came my way. The office was (is) literally a 5 minute commute. I made sure we got another carer, so there would be enough hands on deck. And I began working fulltime after 5 years.It's been just about a year since then.
I have times when I'm so swamped by work that I don't even see my kids when they are awake. I hate that. Then I have times when I make a good presentation or a client likes my work. I love that. There are days when my husband is flying into town and I'm flying out and we meet at the airport. I miss PTA meetings. I like seeing my bank account grow and having money I can call my own. I enjoy the arguments and debates that form my work. Every day my feelings regarding working vs. staying at home change. On good days, I think - Yes! I can do it. On bad days, I type out my resignation letter.
When I look at my kids objectively ( and I am quite good at being objective, even about my kids), I don't see two neglected kids. I see kids who may spend a little less time with their parents than other kids do. But through his playschool career and even now, my son gets complimented on his great manners and the fact that he's rarely rough with other kids. I'm more finicky about their diet than many of the SAHMs ( I've posted a blog on this issue at http://foodandlaughter.blogspot.com/2007/10/indian-breakfasts.html.) I am very strict about how much television they watch, and what they watch. Even when I'm not home, my son knows what he is not supposed to do and why not - which is again something many of his friends who have SAHMs don't ( and I've blogged on that at http://we-are-like-this-only.blogspot.com/2007/06/what-do-kids-do-today.html).
My son loves reading ( he's just learning) and my daughter looks like she'll follow suit. My son is trilingual and has an advanced vocabulary in all three languages. My husband is wonderfully supportive and he really wants to be an involved dad, so he does tons of stuff with and for them. On my days off, we paint together. We both tell him stories. I teach him the names of all the plants in our garden. We go to the park and play together. We have fun.
I have several friends who are SAHMs, and are doing a great job with their kids. They've put in the time and effort to spend quality time with the kids, teaching them stuff, playing with them and bringing them up to be good human beings, first and foremost. Sometimes I envy them their time with the kids, especially when my son has vacation from school and I have to go off to the office. That really hurts!I think it's not a question of whether one is a working mom or a SAHM, it all depends on what you do with the time you get.
I'm someone who honestly doesn't fully buy the 'quality time' argument so I constantly have guilt pangs about the quantity time the kids aren't getting. But contrast that with the non-quality but quantity time that many SAHMs provide, and I guess my kids are ok. I'm lucky to have my parents live nearby ( 5 houses away), so when they're in town, it's a great source of stimulation and family affection for the kids and a reassurance for me. But despite all the support systems, ultimately this is one debate that no one can win outright, because each one of us has to work it out for herself. And I'm not even sure you've won it even with yourself, because the feelings towards the decision ebb and flow with everything that happens ( at least they do for me.)
And so I've decided to take it one day at a time. Each day can be good or bad, and I'm just going to live with it. It doesn't sound like a very liberating, Hollywood crescendo of music decision. But it works. So far.
I've never been an overly maternal type of person, so it shocked me when I turned maternal after my son was born. For 6 months after he arrived, I stayed home, mostly because I couldn't face the thought of leaving him at home with a caretaker all day. Even though I was bored and longing for adult company. Somehow I just didn't want to only hang out with other moms, because I felt the conversation was too focussed.
Eventually a wonderful half day job fell into my lap and I thought - ok, let me try this out. Initially it was hard but eventually I got used to it, and he got used to having me go to office. After my daughter was born, however, a wonderful full time job, an opportunity I had been looking for, came my way. The office was (is) literally a 5 minute commute. I made sure we got another carer, so there would be enough hands on deck. And I began working fulltime after 5 years.It's been just about a year since then.
I have times when I'm so swamped by work that I don't even see my kids when they are awake. I hate that. Then I have times when I make a good presentation or a client likes my work. I love that. There are days when my husband is flying into town and I'm flying out and we meet at the airport. I miss PTA meetings. I like seeing my bank account grow and having money I can call my own. I enjoy the arguments and debates that form my work. Every day my feelings regarding working vs. staying at home change. On good days, I think - Yes! I can do it. On bad days, I type out my resignation letter.
When I look at my kids objectively ( and I am quite good at being objective, even about my kids), I don't see two neglected kids. I see kids who may spend a little less time with their parents than other kids do. But through his playschool career and even now, my son gets complimented on his great manners and the fact that he's rarely rough with other kids. I'm more finicky about their diet than many of the SAHMs ( I've posted a blog on this issue at http://foodandlaughter.blogspot.com/2007/10/indian-breakfasts.html.) I am very strict about how much television they watch, and what they watch. Even when I'm not home, my son knows what he is not supposed to do and why not - which is again something many of his friends who have SAHMs don't ( and I've blogged on that at http://we-are-like-this-only.blogspot.com/2007/06/what-do-kids-do-today.html).
My son loves reading ( he's just learning) and my daughter looks like she'll follow suit. My son is trilingual and has an advanced vocabulary in all three languages. My husband is wonderfully supportive and he really wants to be an involved dad, so he does tons of stuff with and for them. On my days off, we paint together. We both tell him stories. I teach him the names of all the plants in our garden. We go to the park and play together. We have fun.
I have several friends who are SAHMs, and are doing a great job with their kids. They've put in the time and effort to spend quality time with the kids, teaching them stuff, playing with them and bringing them up to be good human beings, first and foremost. Sometimes I envy them their time with the kids, especially when my son has vacation from school and I have to go off to the office. That really hurts!I think it's not a question of whether one is a working mom or a SAHM, it all depends on what you do with the time you get.
I'm someone who honestly doesn't fully buy the 'quality time' argument so I constantly have guilt pangs about the quantity time the kids aren't getting. But contrast that with the non-quality but quantity time that many SAHMs provide, and I guess my kids are ok. I'm lucky to have my parents live nearby ( 5 houses away), so when they're in town, it's a great source of stimulation and family affection for the kids and a reassurance for me. But despite all the support systems, ultimately this is one debate that no one can win outright, because each one of us has to work it out for herself. And I'm not even sure you've won it even with yourself, because the feelings towards the decision ebb and flow with everything that happens ( at least they do for me.)
And so I've decided to take it one day at a time. Each day can be good or bad, and I'm just going to live with it. It doesn't sound like a very liberating, Hollywood crescendo of music decision. But it works. So far.
Melting Moments
There are so many moments in the day when I'm totally exasperated with my son, little A. He is usually so deeply engrossed in whatever he is doing that he tunes out everything else. When he's making paper planes ( the latest craze, and thankfully a cheap one), he doesn't hear me telling him to do something, he forgets to pick up a bite of breakfast or to swallow the bite already in his mouth. Drinking milk can take forty five minutes when he's watching Mickey and friends...
And then there are the moments when he reduces me to a little puddle of mush.He's been having bad dreams for the past few days and we've been so tired that we have given up and bring him into our bed each time. Last night he went through another such episode, on a night when I was dog tired. Later he woke up to use the bathroom. Still later he wanted a drink of water and I yelled at him.
Then early this morning, cuddled up next to me, he says, "I feel so safe when you're near me, mamma."
Then when we were both up, he tells me, "Even when I'm as big as Priyesh ( our downstairs neighbour's 9 year old) I'll still play with you. Even when I'm 100 I'll still play with you, mamma."How cute is that!
(Cross-posted from Desi Momz Club)
And then there are the moments when he reduces me to a little puddle of mush.He's been having bad dreams for the past few days and we've been so tired that we have given up and bring him into our bed each time. Last night he went through another such episode, on a night when I was dog tired. Later he woke up to use the bathroom. Still later he wanted a drink of water and I yelled at him.
Then early this morning, cuddled up next to me, he says, "I feel so safe when you're near me, mamma."
Then when we were both up, he tells me, "Even when I'm as big as Priyesh ( our downstairs neighbour's 9 year old) I'll still play with you. Even when I'm 100 I'll still play with you, mamma."How cute is that!
(Cross-posted from Desi Momz Club)
My baby and me
When I first found out I was having a baby I didn’t feel very much besides nausea. I had never been overly maternal or felt any ticking from the old body clock. Over the months of gestation, the nausea receded but though various worries kept manifesting themselves, I didn’t feel any special bond with the baby. I worried about that too.
After my son was born, since I was woozy and passed out from the sedation, everyone else in the immediate family saw him before I did. And even when I saw him I didn’t feel what I expected – a gush of love so strong and powerful that nothing else would compare. My husband seemed to have bonded much faster than I did.
Through the first couple of months of endless feeding and cleaning I guess my son and I took our first tentative steps (obviously metaphoric in his case) towards understanding each other and maybe liking.My son is six months old now. And today as I watch him, I am touched by myriad emotions.
At times his air of fragility and vulnerability annoy me, make me angry. Nobody should be so weak, so defenceless. How will I protect him, not just from the rest of the world but even from me and my moods?I watch him reach for a toy and fail to grab it – it is beyond his reach. He struggles, screwing up his forehead in concentration, wriggling his little body this way and that. His tiny rump sticks up in the air – he has just taught himself to start crawling backwards. Sometimes his forehead bangs down on the mat in weariness or frustration. Finally he figures out a short cut – he pulls at the mat till it folds up, bringing the toy within his grasp. I am amazed at his ingenuity.
As I massage his body, I feel the softness of his skin - softer than cream or butter or down, smoother than silk or satin. I can’t help myself - I kiss his tiny dimples at the elbow, the almost invisible one on his left cheek. I kiss the deep lines in his thighs and the little indentations in his feet. His curling eyelashes almost touching his eyebrows. His chubby fists. His rosebud mouth, down the pale nipples to plant a raspberry into his belly. His rounded rump. His wispy hair, flying in the breeze. I try and imprint a visceral memory of his body as it is right now since none of his photographs or videos seem to capture him the way my eyes see him. And my eyes will not be able to recall this moment of his life like my body can.
His smiles light up not just his face but my day. He laughs with his whole body and I can feel the knots in mine loosen up. I love the confidence he has that if he cries in a particular way or makes a certain noise, someone will not only hear but interpret the sounds and be there instantly to supply his needs and wants. I wish he could always have that certainty.
I marvel that his perfect body came from my imperfect one, that half of his intelligence and his genes came from me.He is like the long vertical stroke of the letter ‘I’, which joins up the two short parallel lines. Before he came along, my husband and I were the two parallel lines going in the same direction but still independent. Now he has taken a part of me, a part of my husband and his own particular magic. And joined the three of us into an interdependent unit. He has made us a family.
(Cross-posted from we are like this only)
After my son was born, since I was woozy and passed out from the sedation, everyone else in the immediate family saw him before I did. And even when I saw him I didn’t feel what I expected – a gush of love so strong and powerful that nothing else would compare. My husband seemed to have bonded much faster than I did.
Through the first couple of months of endless feeding and cleaning I guess my son and I took our first tentative steps (obviously metaphoric in his case) towards understanding each other and maybe liking.My son is six months old now. And today as I watch him, I am touched by myriad emotions.
At times his air of fragility and vulnerability annoy me, make me angry. Nobody should be so weak, so defenceless. How will I protect him, not just from the rest of the world but even from me and my moods?I watch him reach for a toy and fail to grab it – it is beyond his reach. He struggles, screwing up his forehead in concentration, wriggling his little body this way and that. His tiny rump sticks up in the air – he has just taught himself to start crawling backwards. Sometimes his forehead bangs down on the mat in weariness or frustration. Finally he figures out a short cut – he pulls at the mat till it folds up, bringing the toy within his grasp. I am amazed at his ingenuity.
As I massage his body, I feel the softness of his skin - softer than cream or butter or down, smoother than silk or satin. I can’t help myself - I kiss his tiny dimples at the elbow, the almost invisible one on his left cheek. I kiss the deep lines in his thighs and the little indentations in his feet. His curling eyelashes almost touching his eyebrows. His chubby fists. His rosebud mouth, down the pale nipples to plant a raspberry into his belly. His rounded rump. His wispy hair, flying in the breeze. I try and imprint a visceral memory of his body as it is right now since none of his photographs or videos seem to capture him the way my eyes see him. And my eyes will not be able to recall this moment of his life like my body can.
His smiles light up not just his face but my day. He laughs with his whole body and I can feel the knots in mine loosen up. I love the confidence he has that if he cries in a particular way or makes a certain noise, someone will not only hear but interpret the sounds and be there instantly to supply his needs and wants. I wish he could always have that certainty.
I marvel that his perfect body came from my imperfect one, that half of his intelligence and his genes came from me.He is like the long vertical stroke of the letter ‘I’, which joins up the two short parallel lines. Before he came along, my husband and I were the two parallel lines going in the same direction but still independent. Now he has taken a part of me, a part of my husband and his own particular magic. And joined the three of us into an interdependent unit. He has made us a family.
(Cross-posted from we are like this only)
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Why this Blog?
First off, I have to confess, I'm not a very maternal person. When I was in college and later, I rarely went gooey eyed over other people's kids, even if they were cute. I liked chatting with them when they were a little older - say 3 or 4 - but just for a bit. I never imagines I'd be so ga-ga over my kids that I'd blog about them in two places!
Life really changed when my son, little A was born. I wasn't ready to have kids when we conceived. like the majority of first born kids, he was an accident and then since we were older first time parents ( for India anyway), we went through with it.
My husband A on the other hand has always loved kids. Even when we were dating, when he looked all goo-goo eyed over my shoulder I knew it wasn't a pretty girl but some baby he was staring at. He was thrilled by the prospect of becoming a dad and had been ready for it for ages.
I didn't instantly fall in love with my son when he was born, either. It took a while for me to understand him and relate to him as a person rather than as a baby, and I have blogged about it at my other blog and will probably post it in here one of these days.
However, over time, I don't know how but he and later his sister, little a, have crept into my heart and created such a huge space for themselves that it surprises me. Every day when I call and hear my son's voice on the phone, my heart melts a little. Each time my daughter sways her hips from side to side or manages to say 'mamma', I turn all mushy inside. It's almost impossible to explain to people who don't have or don't want kids, the immeasurable joy that they bring in along with their dirty diapers and crayonned walls. I mean, did you ever think you'd change stinky diapers as a matter of course? Anyone whose potty-filled diapers you change and still hug and kiss at the end of the exercise has got to be special, right?
I was trying to find a metaphor for life with versus sans kids and came up with it yesterday, which explains the title of this blog - life without kids is like half a rainbow - missing so many hues.
Life really changed when my son, little A was born. I wasn't ready to have kids when we conceived. like the majority of first born kids, he was an accident and then since we were older first time parents ( for India anyway), we went through with it.
My husband A on the other hand has always loved kids. Even when we were dating, when he looked all goo-goo eyed over my shoulder I knew it wasn't a pretty girl but some baby he was staring at. He was thrilled by the prospect of becoming a dad and had been ready for it for ages.
I didn't instantly fall in love with my son when he was born, either. It took a while for me to understand him and relate to him as a person rather than as a baby, and I have blogged about it at my other blog and will probably post it in here one of these days.
However, over time, I don't know how but he and later his sister, little a, have crept into my heart and created such a huge space for themselves that it surprises me. Every day when I call and hear my son's voice on the phone, my heart melts a little. Each time my daughter sways her hips from side to side or manages to say 'mamma', I turn all mushy inside. It's almost impossible to explain to people who don't have or don't want kids, the immeasurable joy that they bring in along with their dirty diapers and crayonned walls. I mean, did you ever think you'd change stinky diapers as a matter of course? Anyone whose potty-filled diapers you change and still hug and kiss at the end of the exercise has got to be special, right?
I was trying to find a metaphor for life with versus sans kids and came up with it yesterday, which explains the title of this blog - life without kids is like half a rainbow - missing so many hues.
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