Read the article on Chinese mums in the WSJ, and all of a sudden that whole foot-binding thing started making sense. Daughter cries - oh, my foot is really hurting, it feels like it's going to break. Chinese mum - you wuss, stop snivelling and start tightening, it should break at least twice! Just kidding...
There are a couple of points that made sense to me, but on the whole, the article smacked of a dictatorial, parent-oriented style of bringing up the kids that doesn't bother seeing the kids as individuals and wants to push them through a cookie-cutter of some kind.
Okay, on the whole, I'm not very liberal with praise. I don't think everything my kids do is wonderful or fabulous ( well, that's not true, I do but I keep that to myself!). No, kidding again, I tend to be quite critical and objective when I look at what my kids are doing, and sometimes, I'm honestly surprised when someone else praises their efforts because I didn't think what they had done was praise-worthy. I don't want them to become praise junkies, and I want them to be able to take honest criticism and build a desire to improve. I have high expectations from them at school, across subjects including gym, and I make it clear to them. I don't think it's ok for my kids to give up on some activity after checking it out a few times, because at this stage, I think they don't know enough to take that call, and may just be wanting to take the easy way out. I make sure that they give an activity enough time and also, to be honest, I picked the activities that I thought they showed interest and aptitude in, and I do push them to practice and excel in those.
But I'm also a firm believer in extra-curricular activities, in playing with friends, in having unstructured free time to just chill - and heck, yes, I'm a lazy mom, I like to have my free time too, so I believe in a reasonable amount of benign neglect, after ensuring blunt instruments and sharp knives have been put away. I cannot believe the amount of micro-managing that the author of the article believed was necessary - not allowing kids to play any other instrument than piano/ violin? why on earth? Why not have them participate in a school play - they'll learn about emoting, public speaking, working with others...and besides, school is the one time in life that they'll actually have the free time to be able to do it.
I do see a lot of parents around me who seem pretty stressed out by the efforts of competitive parenting, and it freaks me out. I attended a school event and spoke to Chubbocks' classmate's mom. She said that her daughter had been going to dance classes for a couple of years and loved it but now the kids were in second grade, she felt there was too much academic pressure and had pulled her daughter out from all activities! There are kids who do kumon and music, sports classes and tuition, in Class II. Sometimes I wonder if I'm being a slacker but I don't want to structure their life so much that they're busy rushing around from class to class while life passes them by.
My dad was pretty Chinese-mum-like when I was growing up. He always expected me to be studying and I remember if he ever entered a room unexpectedly and I was reading or doing something else, I'd jump. We moved overseas when I was 12 and I attended American schools, but he was so concerned about me learning 'american' ways that I was very restricted. Extra-curricular activities were not allowed - I of course rebelled and participated in the school play anyway, much to his displeasure. (His argument always used to be that I had to focus on studies and that there would be plenty of time in life for those activities. Well, guess what, there really isn't any time, after you start working, even in a liberal/ creative field like advertising, to run around acting in plays, singing in bands and so on, unless you choose to make those activities your work.) No sleepovers, ever ( strangely, my sister was allowed to go for them!). Very rare visits were allowed to friends' homes.
And when it came time to attend college, he forbade me to study anything other than Economics. I did Eco Honours, was miserable, barely understood the subject and scraped through with a IInd Div which gave me an inferiority and stupidity complex for years. So what exactly did I learn from the hyper-controlling?
I learnt that I don't want to be so in charge of my kids life that they don't fart before asking me (pardon my french). I want them to grow up and be mature adults who can weigh the pros and cons and consequences and make choices for themselves. I want my kids to have their own opinions, even if that means we're at loggerheads sometimes, because it means they are thinking. I don't want them to be mediocre, but I want them to define success on their own terms, not society's. I want my kids to have free time and friendships that last, and the ineffable pleasure of being able to curl up on a fine day and do...nothing at all. I want my kids to have a life, not lead one. Most of all, I want my kids to be individuals in their own right, who aren't dictated to by society as to what work they should do, whom they should love and what they should think.
Showing posts with label bonding with kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bonding with kids. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Co-sleeping with kids - who needs it more?
Last couple of nights, both the kids have been in bed with us. It started off night before last, when it was pretty hot and the night air buzzing with vicious mosquitoes immune to any and every kind of remedy. The kids were very restless and after Puddi had woken up four times, wailing, Chubbocks woke up too and realised we had forgotten about the deal we made with him that he could sleep with us on Sunday night. He started kicking up a big fuss so A just brought both the kids in and we made what we could of the rest of the night, and went to work with giant headaches.
Last night, Chubbocks insisted on a make-up night in our room for Sunday's omission, and then Puds woke up restless again (she's learning about fear so having all kinds of nightmares) so they were back in. Our bed, while large, does get a bit cramped with four people in, especially when the two midgets insist on sleeping diagonally. At some point in the night, I woke up, back cramped from squeezing myself into the farthest corner of the bed that I could manage without falling out. I could hear the even rhythms of the 3 people I love best in the world rising and falling in unison. Puds was sprawled, one leg on Chubbocks, one arm on A's chest, head mashed up against the wall. Chubbocks lay spreadeagled, managing to land one leg on me, one on A and one hand on Puds. It was an incredibly connected feeling, and I loved having all four of us squashed into one bed...
And yet I was the one who moved the kids out. I'd been ready to do this for a long time before it happened, but A always insisted Chubbocks was too small. Finally, a few months before Puddi was due, I put my foot down and insisted we had to do it. I have friends who still co-sleep with their 2 kids, including over ten-year-olds and I really didn't want to do that. Luckily, Chubbocks had always slept in a separate bed from day one, so it was just a question of moving him to another room.
We had to slowly get him used to the concept - at that time he used to take to change very badly. Then I had to sweeten the deal, so I asked him what he would like in the new room and he said he wanted a jungle. So I set about painting a jungle. We'd got the walls done a pale green with a pale blue ceiling, but I had to paint the animals, and make sure they all looked friendly, even the tiger. I still remember going through the actual painting process, when I was about 7 months pregnant. I was huge, and used to get tired very quickly, so after every few bruch strokes, I'd have to sit and put my arm down. Once the paintings were done and the AC installed and the baby monitor bought, we were all set. By this time I was in my 9th month, and we had barely a week to go before Puds, so I figured we had to hurry up the process. I'd broken my ankle the night before, so my foot was in a fancy bandage too.
We hardened our hearts and presented it like a big adventure to chubbocks, who got quite excited and agreed easily to moving in. After reading him a couple of stories, we waited for him to fall asleep and then left. But I just couldn't get to sleep. I was convinced we wouldn't be able to hear him calling out because of the noise of 2 ACs. I tossed and turned. Then at one point, I thought I heard him cry out. I don't even remember jumping out of bed and rushing to his side, but before his first cry of 'mamma' had left his throat, I was already there, bandaged ankle and all. Patted him back and slowly limped back, at which point A fired me for getting out of bed and running when I was supposed to be resting my ankle. But whaddaya do, you're a mom? In fact, the whole first week, I could not sleep at all because I used to lie awake listening for him.
The first few nights, Chubs would manage to worm his way back for some part of the night, but over time he got used to it. With Puddi I was much more hardhearted and insisted she be shifted to the kids room as soon as we moved back from my parents place. By the time she was 3 months old, she had learned to go to sleep on her own if left alone in her crib. And now the kids like being next to each other at night - Chubbocks will pat her sometimes, or she reaches out of her crib to pull his hair, or gets up in the middle of the night and starts talking to him loudly.
But still, at least once a month, we all end up sharing one bed, mashed together like sardines, and I love every minute of it. Often, it's actually because A and I want to drag them in there when they would have ben perfectly happy to sleep in their own room, just so we can cuddle and tickle them and wake up all mussed up together.
Last night, Chubbocks insisted on a make-up night in our room for Sunday's omission, and then Puds woke up restless again (she's learning about fear so having all kinds of nightmares) so they were back in. Our bed, while large, does get a bit cramped with four people in, especially when the two midgets insist on sleeping diagonally. At some point in the night, I woke up, back cramped from squeezing myself into the farthest corner of the bed that I could manage without falling out. I could hear the even rhythms of the 3 people I love best in the world rising and falling in unison. Puds was sprawled, one leg on Chubbocks, one arm on A's chest, head mashed up against the wall. Chubbocks lay spreadeagled, managing to land one leg on me, one on A and one hand on Puds. It was an incredibly connected feeling, and I loved having all four of us squashed into one bed...
And yet I was the one who moved the kids out. I'd been ready to do this for a long time before it happened, but A always insisted Chubbocks was too small. Finally, a few months before Puddi was due, I put my foot down and insisted we had to do it. I have friends who still co-sleep with their 2 kids, including over ten-year-olds and I really didn't want to do that. Luckily, Chubbocks had always slept in a separate bed from day one, so it was just a question of moving him to another room.
We had to slowly get him used to the concept - at that time he used to take to change very badly. Then I had to sweeten the deal, so I asked him what he would like in the new room and he said he wanted a jungle. So I set about painting a jungle. We'd got the walls done a pale green with a pale blue ceiling, but I had to paint the animals, and make sure they all looked friendly, even the tiger. I still remember going through the actual painting process, when I was about 7 months pregnant. I was huge, and used to get tired very quickly, so after every few bruch strokes, I'd have to sit and put my arm down. Once the paintings were done and the AC installed and the baby monitor bought, we were all set. By this time I was in my 9th month, and we had barely a week to go before Puds, so I figured we had to hurry up the process. I'd broken my ankle the night before, so my foot was in a fancy bandage too.
We hardened our hearts and presented it like a big adventure to chubbocks, who got quite excited and agreed easily to moving in. After reading him a couple of stories, we waited for him to fall asleep and then left. But I just couldn't get to sleep. I was convinced we wouldn't be able to hear him calling out because of the noise of 2 ACs. I tossed and turned. Then at one point, I thought I heard him cry out. I don't even remember jumping out of bed and rushing to his side, but before his first cry of 'mamma' had left his throat, I was already there, bandaged ankle and all. Patted him back and slowly limped back, at which point A fired me for getting out of bed and running when I was supposed to be resting my ankle. But whaddaya do, you're a mom? In fact, the whole first week, I could not sleep at all because I used to lie awake listening for him.
The first few nights, Chubs would manage to worm his way back for some part of the night, but over time he got used to it. With Puddi I was much more hardhearted and insisted she be shifted to the kids room as soon as we moved back from my parents place. By the time she was 3 months old, she had learned to go to sleep on her own if left alone in her crib. And now the kids like being next to each other at night - Chubbocks will pat her sometimes, or she reaches out of her crib to pull his hair, or gets up in the middle of the night and starts talking to him loudly.
But still, at least once a month, we all end up sharing one bed, mashed together like sardines, and I love every minute of it. Often, it's actually because A and I want to drag them in there when they would have ben perfectly happy to sleep in their own room, just so we can cuddle and tickle them and wake up all mussed up together.
Kids and manners
Over the weekend we had a gang of old friends visit us, families in tow, for dinner. Most of them have one kids if not two so the house was a wild melee of assorted agegroups chattering together.
One of the couples - he and I went to business school together and his wife and I have been friendly since day one - has two daughters, age 10 and 7. The older one, when she was born and till quite a few years later, looked just like a doll. She was quiet and shy and used to cling to her mom. Well, now she's all growed up at 10 years old, and I regret to say A and I disliked her.
She's become a chubby little kid, and has the most belligerent expression on her face at all times, as if she's just waiting to pick a fight with someone. The scowl rarely leaves her face, and she's not all that good at greeting people when she walks into their home. And her expression is both unpleasant and not very intelligent.
Since kids were coming over, and it's a houserule in any case, we had some healthy snacks around, like masala paneer, and lots of fruit juice. "Where are the chips? Where is the coke?" this girl asked my maid, and quite rudely at that, and made a face when told we didn't have either. Then she somehow spotted an unopened box of butter cookies which was lying in a closed cupboard ( I wasn't in the kitchen at the time so dunno how she did it) and promptly demanded and devoured four of them by herself and asked for more! This isn't the first time I've seen her demonstrate a penchant for being 'grabby' about food either - even during other visits, she has pounced on food and drink and demanded things that weren't being served.
Then later, A was putting on a movie for all the kids since we figured that would be one thing that would unite the motley crew. We had a carefully edited selection of movies - Sound of Music, Mary Poppins, Swiss Family Robinson or the Ice age/ Finding Nemo variety. To every single suggestion that was put forth by anybody, this girl replied with a rude negative. Poor Chubbocks kept trying to voice his choices but there were too many kids older than him and we'd explained that he had to let the guests choose, so he stayed quiet in the background.
Finally, one of the other mothers made the rule that two movies would be watched, each for 45 minutes, as the only way to settle the argument. Even during the time that the kids were watching the movie, when A poked his head in to find out how they were doing or if the CD had finished, he was met by rude replies from this girl. She didn;t mix with any of the other kids, didn;t bother saying a 'hi' or 'Hello' - and this when she knew many of them already - and didn;t end up interacting with anyone except her own sister. Later, when everyone was having food, this girl comes rushing up to me demanding a piece of dessert - not asking politely, but demanding. No Thank you's, no pleases, no pleasantness - it really left a bad taste in our mouths.
I really had to wonder where all this aggression and belligerency was coming from. Her parents are both quite strict whenever I've seen them, and are soft-spoken people themselves. They are both well-educated, well-mannered people. I could just imagine this girl bullying the maids at home when the parents weren't around. Her sister on the other hand is well-mannered and soft spoken, so I have to hope it's just a phase, but it leaves me wondering what her parents are doing about it - are they perhaps not aware of it, or they do deal with it on their own turf but don't want to start a battle with their kid in someone else's house?
The other thing I wondered was whether perhaps the parents were really strict with her diet at home and so she was greedy when they went out, and whether the anger was some kind of pre-teen thing she was going through ( my niece - husband's cousin's daughter has that going on, and she is a 'Goth' at school in the US - dresses in all black weird clothes and scares the bejabbers out of us).
Later that weekend we were chatting with a friend who said once their daughter's school had called them up to say their daughter was very greedy - that other kids would be on their second slice of pizza and this kid would have wolfed down four. The parents then figured out that because they were very strict about junk food at home, whenever their daughter saw an opportunity when the parents weren't around, it became a huge attraction for her.
Many questions are racing through my mind including our own rather strict lines of appropriate behaviour and particularly stingy doling out of junk food...
So...right now giving the girl the benefit of the doubt but still not appreciatting her sulky and rude manner.
*************************************************************************************
We had been gorging on the leftover party food for two days, since I and A are the kinds who panic and overestimate instead of getting it right, and yesterday I got the best compliment of my life from Chubbocks.
"Mama, you cook just like a chef!"
Me ( nonplussed): "What's a chef?"
C: "A Master of Cooking."
Me: Big beam from ear to ear!!!
One of the couples - he and I went to business school together and his wife and I have been friendly since day one - has two daughters, age 10 and 7. The older one, when she was born and till quite a few years later, looked just like a doll. She was quiet and shy and used to cling to her mom. Well, now she's all growed up at 10 years old, and I regret to say A and I disliked her.
She's become a chubby little kid, and has the most belligerent expression on her face at all times, as if she's just waiting to pick a fight with someone. The scowl rarely leaves her face, and she's not all that good at greeting people when she walks into their home. And her expression is both unpleasant and not very intelligent.
Since kids were coming over, and it's a houserule in any case, we had some healthy snacks around, like masala paneer, and lots of fruit juice. "Where are the chips? Where is the coke?" this girl asked my maid, and quite rudely at that, and made a face when told we didn't have either. Then she somehow spotted an unopened box of butter cookies which was lying in a closed cupboard ( I wasn't in the kitchen at the time so dunno how she did it) and promptly demanded and devoured four of them by herself and asked for more! This isn't the first time I've seen her demonstrate a penchant for being 'grabby' about food either - even during other visits, she has pounced on food and drink and demanded things that weren't being served.
Then later, A was putting on a movie for all the kids since we figured that would be one thing that would unite the motley crew. We had a carefully edited selection of movies - Sound of Music, Mary Poppins, Swiss Family Robinson or the Ice age/ Finding Nemo variety. To every single suggestion that was put forth by anybody, this girl replied with a rude negative. Poor Chubbocks kept trying to voice his choices but there were too many kids older than him and we'd explained that he had to let the guests choose, so he stayed quiet in the background.
Finally, one of the other mothers made the rule that two movies would be watched, each for 45 minutes, as the only way to settle the argument. Even during the time that the kids were watching the movie, when A poked his head in to find out how they were doing or if the CD had finished, he was met by rude replies from this girl. She didn;t mix with any of the other kids, didn;t bother saying a 'hi' or 'Hello' - and this when she knew many of them already - and didn;t end up interacting with anyone except her own sister. Later, when everyone was having food, this girl comes rushing up to me demanding a piece of dessert - not asking politely, but demanding. No Thank you's, no pleases, no pleasantness - it really left a bad taste in our mouths.
I really had to wonder where all this aggression and belligerency was coming from. Her parents are both quite strict whenever I've seen them, and are soft-spoken people themselves. They are both well-educated, well-mannered people. I could just imagine this girl bullying the maids at home when the parents weren't around. Her sister on the other hand is well-mannered and soft spoken, so I have to hope it's just a phase, but it leaves me wondering what her parents are doing about it - are they perhaps not aware of it, or they do deal with it on their own turf but don't want to start a battle with their kid in someone else's house?
The other thing I wondered was whether perhaps the parents were really strict with her diet at home and so she was greedy when they went out, and whether the anger was some kind of pre-teen thing she was going through ( my niece - husband's cousin's daughter has that going on, and she is a 'Goth' at school in the US - dresses in all black weird clothes and scares the bejabbers out of us).
Later that weekend we were chatting with a friend who said once their daughter's school had called them up to say their daughter was very greedy - that other kids would be on their second slice of pizza and this kid would have wolfed down four. The parents then figured out that because they were very strict about junk food at home, whenever their daughter saw an opportunity when the parents weren't around, it became a huge attraction for her.
Many questions are racing through my mind including our own rather strict lines of appropriate behaviour and particularly stingy doling out of junk food...
So...right now giving the girl the benefit of the doubt but still not appreciatting her sulky and rude manner.
*************************************************************************************
We had been gorging on the leftover party food for two days, since I and A are the kinds who panic and overestimate instead of getting it right, and yesterday I got the best compliment of my life from Chubbocks.
"Mama, you cook just like a chef!"
Me ( nonplussed): "What's a chef?"
C: "A Master of Cooking."
Me: Big beam from ear to ear!!!
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
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...
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...
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