Puddi's a big fan of the cartoon network show Krishna, in which a lot of the dialogue is in Bhojpuri-type Hindi. The other day I was busy and not paying attention to her.
Puddi: Mamma
Mamma: no response
Puddi: Mamma
Mamma: no response
Puddi: O Maiyya!
Got me to my feet alright!
********************************************************************************
A has a habit of never having his mobile phone available to me- it's always either busy or 'not reachable when I call, to the extent that I have his name saved as 'anotavailable' on my mobile phone. Last night he was at it again, when I was trying to figure out what flight he was taking back from Mumbai. A couple calls later I was irritated and telling Chubbocks (the child reared on tales from Indian mythology) so.
Me: If abba calls I'm not going to answer it. He never takes my calls.
Chubbocks: Mamma, if you keep getting so angry, you will turn into a demon.
************************************************************************************
Still later...
Chubbocks: Good people turn into bad people when they are angry and then they become demons. Then you have to kill them.
Me ( with a gasp): So if I become a demon, you'll kill me also?
Chubbocks: No. Then there'll be no mamma. I'll just give you a hug then you'll stop being angry.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Things to be Thankful for...
Maybe it's a vestige of one's first encounter with the world of numbers, but 100 always seems like a big milestone - bigger than 200 or 1000 - in my mind. And for the milestone post on this blog, what better than to thank God for all the wonderful things in my life?
My son Chubbocks: beaming boy wonder, wordsmith par excellence already, greedily learning to read the most complex of words...
Day before I had promised Chubbocks that he could have Maggi noodles for dinner yesterday. So when I reached home from work, he immediately reminded me of the promise. Tired though I was, I couldn't refuse, so I set to and made him a bowlful, with carrots, beans, onions and potatoes and my own mix of spices since we had lost the spice mix which came with the pack. His face was a picture of delight, with the 'shining from inside' look coupled with bashfulness that it gets whenever he is thrilled to the marrow about something. Each and every bite of the Maggi was relished with much gusto, much smacking of the lips, and much 'yummy, Mamma's. What astounded me was how much joy could come from such a small little indulgence for him. And I am thankful that he is still so unspoilt that an occasional Maggi or pizza dinner can give him such a thrill.
And Chubbocks is learning to read. We often play a game in which I write sentences on his doodle pro and he reads them or he writes them and I read. Yesterday, as he ate up his noodles, I wrote to him:
'I enjoy playing with you'; 'It thrills me when you read'; 'I am very impressed with your reading'; 'I love you very much'...and was more than amazed when he managed to read each and every word correctly. It's a far cry from the 'Pat and Cat' books that 5 year olds typically read, and I'm already having visions of him starting to enjoy the William books in my collection...
My daughter Puddi: looney tune, boogie meister, eyelash batter to surpass Angelina Jolie...
Puddi is going through her Terrible Twos. Good eating habits are the first to go at this stage, and sure enough, from being someone who couldn't get enough food, she has become picky and uninterested in her food, making mealtimes a battleground. Sometimes we do succeed in getting her interested - like day before when big brother Chubbocks fed her a spoon of dahi after each bite of roti - but otherwise it's a fight for control. Her resistance to instructions is growing - any time we tell her to do anything she doesn't feel like doing, the response is an extreme 'nahi karegi, kabhi nahin karegi' ( won't do it; I will never do it). For instance, when she woke up at 4 am the other morning, crawled into bed and kept babbling. A and I: "Keep quiet Puddi!" Puddi: "Keep quiet nahin kalegi, kabhi nahin kalegi". She finds a new reason to chortle every day, and her latest trick is to cover her mouth with one fat little hand and giggle, big eyes full of mischief. She loves playing with crayons and our drawing room walls now have blue lines to match the furniture. She enjoys books, and is forever curled up peering at the 'kinna' ( Krishna) book. Sleep has now become her enemy and she insists on staying up till her eyes are falling out of her head. And then when finally sleep is overpowering her, she'll look up trustingly at her father and say, "Abba, scat my bat" ( scratch my back), with the sure expectation that Abba will immediately do her bidding and send her off to the Land of Nod...
The baby to come: who will hopefully thrive despite my insane schedule and come out happy to meet us all, and be as innocent and fun-loving as his/ her siblings, enjoying our benign neglect and chaotic household...
My parents: a lifeline
I remember way back when I was expecting Chubbocks. I didn't know I was pregnant, just that I would come home from a day's work and collapse bonelessly, unable to so much as make myself a cup of tea. And go straight to my folks' house, where dad ( since mom was away on holiday) would not only make me a life-reviving cup of tea but also feed us dinner. And when I had to go on bed rest, mom had to cut short her vacation and come rushing back to take care of me. I never needed to stop for a moment and think about whether I was putting her out, I could just ask her and rest assured that she would do it and be there for me.
With my kids, my parents have been their primary caregivers at times, when I've been caught up at work. Mom is the one who comes up with fun games to teach them counting and colours, while dad indulges them in horseplay and tells them the stories he told me as a kid. They help feed them and look after them when I'm traveling or working late, worry as much as we do when they fall ill and delight as much or more in their antics.
My sister M and soulsister M:
With whom I've survived heartbreak and heartache, tequila and sunrise, marriage and childbirth...with whom my connection grows stronger as we grow older...with whom I can argue, differ, bicker and yet come back to share a glass of Roohafza...
And A: my Rock of Gibraltar, the wind beneath my wings...
Who believes in me more than I believe in myself, who loves me despite my temper and mu untidy ways, wilfulness and extravagance...who loves indulging me and can always find an excuse for my bad behaviour...who always encourages me to fly and is always ready to catch me if I fall...who has uncomplainingly taken my place for the last 2 months when I've been traveling and working late and managed the kids beautifully...who still thinks I'm beautiful, with my pot belly and grey hair...
I wonder what I did to deserve all this? It must have been something good...
My son Chubbocks: beaming boy wonder, wordsmith par excellence already, greedily learning to read the most complex of words...
Day before I had promised Chubbocks that he could have Maggi noodles for dinner yesterday. So when I reached home from work, he immediately reminded me of the promise. Tired though I was, I couldn't refuse, so I set to and made him a bowlful, with carrots, beans, onions and potatoes and my own mix of spices since we had lost the spice mix which came with the pack. His face was a picture of delight, with the 'shining from inside' look coupled with bashfulness that it gets whenever he is thrilled to the marrow about something. Each and every bite of the Maggi was relished with much gusto, much smacking of the lips, and much 'yummy, Mamma's. What astounded me was how much joy could come from such a small little indulgence for him. And I am thankful that he is still so unspoilt that an occasional Maggi or pizza dinner can give him such a thrill.
And Chubbocks is learning to read. We often play a game in which I write sentences on his doodle pro and he reads them or he writes them and I read. Yesterday, as he ate up his noodles, I wrote to him:
'I enjoy playing with you'; 'It thrills me when you read'; 'I am very impressed with your reading'; 'I love you very much'...and was more than amazed when he managed to read each and every word correctly. It's a far cry from the 'Pat and Cat' books that 5 year olds typically read, and I'm already having visions of him starting to enjoy the William books in my collection...
My daughter Puddi: looney tune, boogie meister, eyelash batter to surpass Angelina Jolie...
Puddi is going through her Terrible Twos. Good eating habits are the first to go at this stage, and sure enough, from being someone who couldn't get enough food, she has become picky and uninterested in her food, making mealtimes a battleground. Sometimes we do succeed in getting her interested - like day before when big brother Chubbocks fed her a spoon of dahi after each bite of roti - but otherwise it's a fight for control. Her resistance to instructions is growing - any time we tell her to do anything she doesn't feel like doing, the response is an extreme 'nahi karegi, kabhi nahin karegi' ( won't do it; I will never do it). For instance, when she woke up at 4 am the other morning, crawled into bed and kept babbling. A and I: "Keep quiet Puddi!" Puddi: "Keep quiet nahin kalegi, kabhi nahin kalegi". She finds a new reason to chortle every day, and her latest trick is to cover her mouth with one fat little hand and giggle, big eyes full of mischief. She loves playing with crayons and our drawing room walls now have blue lines to match the furniture. She enjoys books, and is forever curled up peering at the 'kinna' ( Krishna) book. Sleep has now become her enemy and she insists on staying up till her eyes are falling out of her head. And then when finally sleep is overpowering her, she'll look up trustingly at her father and say, "Abba, scat my bat" ( scratch my back), with the sure expectation that Abba will immediately do her bidding and send her off to the Land of Nod...
The baby to come: who will hopefully thrive despite my insane schedule and come out happy to meet us all, and be as innocent and fun-loving as his/ her siblings, enjoying our benign neglect and chaotic household...
My parents: a lifeline
I remember way back when I was expecting Chubbocks. I didn't know I was pregnant, just that I would come home from a day's work and collapse bonelessly, unable to so much as make myself a cup of tea. And go straight to my folks' house, where dad ( since mom was away on holiday) would not only make me a life-reviving cup of tea but also feed us dinner. And when I had to go on bed rest, mom had to cut short her vacation and come rushing back to take care of me. I never needed to stop for a moment and think about whether I was putting her out, I could just ask her and rest assured that she would do it and be there for me.
With my kids, my parents have been their primary caregivers at times, when I've been caught up at work. Mom is the one who comes up with fun games to teach them counting and colours, while dad indulges them in horseplay and tells them the stories he told me as a kid. They help feed them and look after them when I'm traveling or working late, worry as much as we do when they fall ill and delight as much or more in their antics.
My sister M and soulsister M:
With whom I've survived heartbreak and heartache, tequila and sunrise, marriage and childbirth...with whom my connection grows stronger as we grow older...with whom I can argue, differ, bicker and yet come back to share a glass of Roohafza...
And A: my Rock of Gibraltar, the wind beneath my wings...
Who believes in me more than I believe in myself, who loves me despite my temper and mu untidy ways, wilfulness and extravagance...who loves indulging me and can always find an excuse for my bad behaviour...who always encourages me to fly and is always ready to catch me if I fall...who has uncomplainingly taken my place for the last 2 months when I've been traveling and working late and managed the kids beautifully...who still thinks I'm beautiful, with my pot belly and grey hair...
I wonder what I did to deserve all this? It must have been something good...
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Date Night
A and I have been so busy with work lately that life has been hectic. Add to that the ever-present guilt of being working parents with limited time to spend with the kids, and a chatty chubbocks on summer vacation, and the going away of our live-in maid and suddenly one day we realised that it had been ages since we'd been out anywhere, just the two of us, and managed to have a conversation of more than two words without the kids butting in. A and I love hanging out together and have usually managed to make the time to do so, so we felt all the more deprived. It seems bizarre that we spent seven years struggling against various odds to be with each other, and now that we officially are, we have no time to spend with each other!
Luckily, an invitation from the French embassy coincided with our finding a potential live-in maid. We roped in mom to let the kids sleep over, with maid in attendance, since she is so new I couldn't leave the kids with her with any peace of mind. And once the kids were off to the park, we began titivating ourselves prior to our date with each other.
I pulled out my new petrol blue Wendell Rodericks chiffon shirt, bought this summer, since the event said the dress code was formal; and my maternity pants. A pulled out his favourite Hugo Boss suit and a dashing red tie. I pulled out some of the stops with make-up, using all the stuff I had recently splurged on at MAC. Sadly, my shoes had to be my sensible work-style blue pumps rather than any gravity defying stilettoes since at my current size and girth, mother earth loves to embrace me at any unwary step.
Finally, looking like a handsome elegant man accompanied by a giant blue walking egg, we made our way out of the house. It felt a little strange to be do dressed up this early in the evening, but we had to be there at 7 pm so we swanned out conspicuously among the gangs of neighbours taking leisurely strolls in their sweatsuits.
The function was the conferring of the Legion d'Honneur upon Yash Chopra. Many politico types and some socialite types were spotted at the do. We snagged good seats and then, realising we were ravenous, fell upon the canapes that were circulating - quite delicious. The function itself was short and sweet, with a nicely made AV tracing Yash Chopra's cinematic oeuvre and pictures of him and the stars of Veer Zaara causing a stampede and riot in Paris during the premiere. Maitre Chopra made a heartwarming speech, and then it was all over. I ensured that A met and congratulated Mr. Chopra, since Deewaar is his all-time favourite movie - the man can recite all the dialogues in his sleep! - and then we headed out to dinner.
Italic has often hosted our unplanned outings, post a quiz or some such, so we headed there, since it has great food and is convenient. A live singer was playing some of the oldies which never fail to make you sing along - Imagine, Tie a Yellow ribbon, Country roads and so on, and A and I joined in with great gusto, unheeding of any distress we may have been causing fellow-diners. It felt great to be out again, just the two of us, not mentioning the kids except in passing, enjoying some music...being ourselves, A and P, not mom and dad. It brought back memories of the years when we were dating, when we had tried out practically every restaurant in town and yet hardly noticed the food, we were so busy falling in love with each other.
Back home, the contrast to our dating era was obvious and welcome. Instead of heading off into different directions, we got to go home with each other, cuddle up and watch our favourite Tv program, sa Re Ga Ma Pa, sing along to whichever songs we knew and go to bed snuggled into each other. And be able to say "I Love You" to each other in person, instead of over a cellphone call. And to be ok with turning over and going straight to sleep...hey, I am 6 months pregnant!
Life is only going to get more hectic in the coming months. A has a lot more commuting to Bombay coming up, we have a third kid on the way and if it's half as chatty as the other two, A and I will be lucky if we can say two words to each other once a fortnight. And of course, the close monitoring a new baby needs and our incremental guilt will make it harder for us to get away. But we've both firmly resolved that regardless of the guilt and the logistical hurdles, from now on, regular date nights are on the menu!
Luckily, an invitation from the French embassy coincided with our finding a potential live-in maid. We roped in mom to let the kids sleep over, with maid in attendance, since she is so new I couldn't leave the kids with her with any peace of mind. And once the kids were off to the park, we began titivating ourselves prior to our date with each other.
I pulled out my new petrol blue Wendell Rodericks chiffon shirt, bought this summer, since the event said the dress code was formal; and my maternity pants. A pulled out his favourite Hugo Boss suit and a dashing red tie. I pulled out some of the stops with make-up, using all the stuff I had recently splurged on at MAC. Sadly, my shoes had to be my sensible work-style blue pumps rather than any gravity defying stilettoes since at my current size and girth, mother earth loves to embrace me at any unwary step.
Finally, looking like a handsome elegant man accompanied by a giant blue walking egg, we made our way out of the house. It felt a little strange to be do dressed up this early in the evening, but we had to be there at 7 pm so we swanned out conspicuously among the gangs of neighbours taking leisurely strolls in their sweatsuits.
The function was the conferring of the Legion d'Honneur upon Yash Chopra. Many politico types and some socialite types were spotted at the do. We snagged good seats and then, realising we were ravenous, fell upon the canapes that were circulating - quite delicious. The function itself was short and sweet, with a nicely made AV tracing Yash Chopra's cinematic oeuvre and pictures of him and the stars of Veer Zaara causing a stampede and riot in Paris during the premiere. Maitre Chopra made a heartwarming speech, and then it was all over. I ensured that A met and congratulated Mr. Chopra, since Deewaar is his all-time favourite movie - the man can recite all the dialogues in his sleep! - and then we headed out to dinner.
Italic has often hosted our unplanned outings, post a quiz or some such, so we headed there, since it has great food and is convenient. A live singer was playing some of the oldies which never fail to make you sing along - Imagine, Tie a Yellow ribbon, Country roads and so on, and A and I joined in with great gusto, unheeding of any distress we may have been causing fellow-diners. It felt great to be out again, just the two of us, not mentioning the kids except in passing, enjoying some music...being ourselves, A and P, not mom and dad. It brought back memories of the years when we were dating, when we had tried out practically every restaurant in town and yet hardly noticed the food, we were so busy falling in love with each other.
Back home, the contrast to our dating era was obvious and welcome. Instead of heading off into different directions, we got to go home with each other, cuddle up and watch our favourite Tv program, sa Re Ga Ma Pa, sing along to whichever songs we knew and go to bed snuggled into each other. And be able to say "I Love You" to each other in person, instead of over a cellphone call. And to be ok with turning over and going straight to sleep...hey, I am 6 months pregnant!
Life is only going to get more hectic in the coming months. A has a lot more commuting to Bombay coming up, we have a third kid on the way and if it's half as chatty as the other two, A and I will be lucky if we can say two words to each other once a fortnight. And of course, the close monitoring a new baby needs and our incremental guilt will make it harder for us to get away. But we've both firmly resolved that regardless of the guilt and the logistical hurdles, from now on, regular date nights are on the menu!
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Chubbocks' pithy comment
The other day I asked Chubs, whose school term began today, "Are you looking forward to school?"
Pat came the answer, "No, I'm looking backward to my holidays!"
**********************************************************************************
We chanced upon Jurassic Park on one of the Tv channels. Chubbocks has had dino-mania for some time and insisted on being allowed to watch it. "You'll get bad dreams at night", I warned him.
"No, mamma, I always say my prayers so God will look after me. Anyway, dinosaurs died long ago, so they can't catch me!"
PS. will blog about the delhi blogmeet soon - swamped right now.
Pat came the answer, "No, I'm looking backward to my holidays!"
**********************************************************************************
We chanced upon Jurassic Park on one of the Tv channels. Chubbocks has had dino-mania for some time and insisted on being allowed to watch it. "You'll get bad dreams at night", I warned him.
"No, mamma, I always say my prayers so God will look after me. Anyway, dinosaurs died long ago, so they can't catch me!"
PS. will blog about the delhi blogmeet soon - swamped right now.
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