I have hardly been blogging of late, but decide it's high time I wrote down what the kids have been up to. Chubbocks has finished Class 2 with his usual effortless performance so far ( brags moi :)) and moved up to Class 3. He's now 8, supposedly grown up. But the boy is a marshmallow inside.
We were giving up our Photon connection because it gave us dismal connectivity. Chubbocks mounted a full campaign asking us not to give it up. Finally he came down to begging us that even if we disconnected it, we should keep the modem somewhere safe, "else it's feelings will get hurt." I was cleaning out the kids playroom recently and came across a box full of soft toys, which the kids have hardly ever played with. I had the maid put them into a bag, preparatory to giving them away. That night I found Chubbocks, soft brown eyes full of concern. "Please don't throw them away. They are my babies!" Now that bag has been transported into an attic, half the contents piled on Chubbocks' bed, with barely enough space on the bed for him to be able to turn over.
Puddi is another thing altogether. She's crazy about art and runs riot with paint, crayons and colour pencils. She spends hours every day quietly engrossed in making a new work of art. I get the distinct feeling she is artistically gifted, going by her efforts so far. She's also an enthusiastic performer on stage. Her puppet dance came in for an encore on the day that we had PTA meetings, and she performed with the same gusto as she had done on stage. Last week she had a ballet performance. Her bit was pretty minor, but she was hilarious. The child next to her had forgotten her steps and refused to stand up on cue. So Puddi just reaches over and hauls her to her feet, gesticulating wildly to remind her of the steps :)
She's also growing into a lovely sister and a great middle child. She's equally happy running riot with Bojjandi or with Chubbocks. She plays board games, argues with Chubbocks, has long arguments and nonsense conversations with him. They fight all the time and irritate each other, yet her eyes well up when he gets scolded. He gets rather hyper at bedtime and competes fiercely for who will get Abba to sit on their bed first, and she's so quick to give in to keep him happy! Then, with Bojjandi, she's riotously running and tumbling around the house and making him laugh. We were out for dinner the other day, and Bojjandi wanted a bite of her dessert. Not only did she readily agree to share but she maternally and responsibly told him to sit down neatly next to her and fed him with such loving care.
And then there's Bojjandi, the most mischievous, rascally urchin in our house. His speech, both in English and Hindi, has grown by leaps and bounds, and he rattles off long sentences, even paragraphs. His communication skills are terrific and he is easily understood by all of us at home, even if newcomers find it hard to figure him out. That's because his 'r's and 'l's are still 'y' sounds, which is adorable and I really want him to stay that way fro as long as possible.
He's like a dashing movie hero - dashing around the hosue at all times. One of the loudest voices in the house too. Very fond of opening the fridge and scavenging for anythign interesting that he can find, from dahi to chutney, chocolates to cheese. Stubborn as a mule, he still hasn't touched milk after we threw away his bottles six months ago! Assertive and more than capable of holding his own against either Chubbocks or Puddi. And when he gets really affectionate towards you - watch out. He'll come and 'kench' you ( pinch) realy hard, with a fierce expression and gritted pearly teeth. or launch himself at you like a missile and pound away with his chubby fists. He loves his Noddy scooter and his favourite thing is, at night after he's changed into pajamas, to come riding into the family room on the scooter, long, unruly curls blowing behind him, like those old-fashioned Bollywood hero-introduction shots :)
Showing posts with label puddi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label puddi. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Bedtime Tales
Bedtimes at our house are getting increasingly complex, with three children of different ages and tastes to account for. It started out with Chubbocks getting three stories a night, followed by some singing. Chubbocks also has the same strange affliction I have - when he gets sleepy, his back starts itching and he has to have his back scratched for a bit.
Then along came Puddi, and we had to split the story-telling and back scratching/ patting between the two. And now we have Bojjandi, who's a pretty demanding little fellow. And we have sibling competitions on a nightly basis. Just to give you an idea of how a typical bedtime goes...
First we have a race up two flights of stairs to the bedroom floor. The first one to reach always has to proclaim "I win!", while the other two protest about cheating or how they had a stomach ache or had fallen down two weeks ago and were still nursing a stiff knee. Then, while A or I, or both, are turning back quilts and making the beds ready for the night, the three have a scrimmage at the bookshelf in their room, each picking out the book they want to be read from. Bojjandi, who has no concept of fairness, usually pulls out three or four books, while dropping half a dozen others on the floor, and insists that he wants to listen to them all, while we try to dissuade him.
Chubbocks and Puddi argue about whose bed the hapless parent will sit on that night to read the stories. Since this is supposed to happen on a rotational basis, one of the kids will always insist on having a convenient attack of amnesia about the previous night. Thankfully Bojji still sleeps in a crib, so he's not part of this competition. Then Chubbocks and Puddi will argue about whose story gets read first, while Bojjandi insistently yells out the name of his story, "Abba, yeed mine!( read mine)". I try to avoid this mess when it's my turn at bedtime by insisting that I choose all three stories or narrate them from memory/ imagination, and the strategy works some of the time.
Finally, somehow I settle on one of the beds, Bojjandi on my lap, while the other two try and squash in as close as possible, crib about how they can't see the pictures/ words and how it isn't fair. We try and read Bojjandi's story first, most nights, because that's the only way to shut him up while the other two stories are being read. Halfway through the story, Bojjandi tries to skip ahead and look at other pictures in the book, while we haul him back to what we're reading. We then read out the other two stories.
Once the stories are done and kids tucked in to their respective beds, Bojjandi starts his nightly queries about everyone on the house. "Where'sh abba?" "Where'sh ayoopa didi?". Then it comes to his playmates. "Where'sh miaow (his stuffed toy tiger)?" "Where'sh Gob the bildo ( Bob the builder)" He also answers many of the questions himself, which makes me wonder what the point is. "Gob'sh sh'eeping ( Bob is sleeping)". "Ayoopa didi'sh sh'eeping" and so on, till I issue a ultimatum about not singing until he keeps quiet.
Then come the song requests. Puddi usually wants 'a few of my favourite things'. She's also become fond of 'Wouldn't it be lovely' from My Fair Lady ( I think the phrase 'lots of chocolate for me to eat' had something to do with it!). Bojjandi used to ask for the Karadi song - 'The Bear went up the Mountain', which I sing in English and Kannada. The 'kookabayya' used to be another favourite earlier. Lately he's hooked on to 'Chim chimenee' from Mary Poppins, and keeps asking for repeats. If I start singing something he doesn't care for particularly, he's pretty direct about it, "Mamma, shwitch the shong off!" Chubbocks has no music requests and takes pretty much anything I sing in a sweet spirit. For instance, tonight I sang The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel and asked him if he liked the song. He said he didn't care for it because of the bit about boxing and 'cut him till he cried out' but generously stated that he liked the way I sang it. That's so much a part of his personality - not wanting to hurt the other person by any criticism...
After the concert, during which Bojjandi will talk continuously, along with requests to 'shcat my bat' - which he just says to copy his siblings, you could tapdance on his shoulder and he would think you were shcatting his bat, he will turn to his side and keep repeating your name over and over, a sure sign that he's sleepy. He's still pretty alert to any signs of wrongdoing, though - tonight, I started patting his forehead, hoping to make him nod off sooner, and he reprimanded me sternly, "Mamma, don't bang me!"
The other two wait patiently while their noisy and fussy junior gets to sleep, sometimes falling asleep themselves in the process. Then comes the argument about who gets their back scratched first and whose back gets patted first. Finally, when I think these two are sleepy enough to go off on their own, I tiptoe out of their room, wishing them, as per family joke and tradition, 'gooda nayatoo, sudarimasu. I love you cherry vammu...
Then along came Puddi, and we had to split the story-telling and back scratching/ patting between the two. And now we have Bojjandi, who's a pretty demanding little fellow. And we have sibling competitions on a nightly basis. Just to give you an idea of how a typical bedtime goes...
First we have a race up two flights of stairs to the bedroom floor. The first one to reach always has to proclaim "I win!", while the other two protest about cheating or how they had a stomach ache or had fallen down two weeks ago and were still nursing a stiff knee. Then, while A or I, or both, are turning back quilts and making the beds ready for the night, the three have a scrimmage at the bookshelf in their room, each picking out the book they want to be read from. Bojjandi, who has no concept of fairness, usually pulls out three or four books, while dropping half a dozen others on the floor, and insists that he wants to listen to them all, while we try to dissuade him.
Chubbocks and Puddi argue about whose bed the hapless parent will sit on that night to read the stories. Since this is supposed to happen on a rotational basis, one of the kids will always insist on having a convenient attack of amnesia about the previous night. Thankfully Bojji still sleeps in a crib, so he's not part of this competition. Then Chubbocks and Puddi will argue about whose story gets read first, while Bojjandi insistently yells out the name of his story, "Abba, yeed mine!( read mine)". I try to avoid this mess when it's my turn at bedtime by insisting that I choose all three stories or narrate them from memory/ imagination, and the strategy works some of the time.
Finally, somehow I settle on one of the beds, Bojjandi on my lap, while the other two try and squash in as close as possible, crib about how they can't see the pictures/ words and how it isn't fair. We try and read Bojjandi's story first, most nights, because that's the only way to shut him up while the other two stories are being read. Halfway through the story, Bojjandi tries to skip ahead and look at other pictures in the book, while we haul him back to what we're reading. We then read out the other two stories.
Once the stories are done and kids tucked in to their respective beds, Bojjandi starts his nightly queries about everyone on the house. "Where'sh abba?" "Where'sh ayoopa didi?". Then it comes to his playmates. "Where'sh miaow (his stuffed toy tiger)?" "Where'sh Gob the bildo ( Bob the builder)" He also answers many of the questions himself, which makes me wonder what the point is. "Gob'sh sh'eeping ( Bob is sleeping)". "Ayoopa didi'sh sh'eeping" and so on, till I issue a ultimatum about not singing until he keeps quiet.
Then come the song requests. Puddi usually wants 'a few of my favourite things'. She's also become fond of 'Wouldn't it be lovely' from My Fair Lady ( I think the phrase 'lots of chocolate for me to eat' had something to do with it!). Bojjandi used to ask for the Karadi song - 'The Bear went up the Mountain', which I sing in English and Kannada. The 'kookabayya' used to be another favourite earlier. Lately he's hooked on to 'Chim chimenee' from Mary Poppins, and keeps asking for repeats. If I start singing something he doesn't care for particularly, he's pretty direct about it, "Mamma, shwitch the shong off!" Chubbocks has no music requests and takes pretty much anything I sing in a sweet spirit. For instance, tonight I sang The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel and asked him if he liked the song. He said he didn't care for it because of the bit about boxing and 'cut him till he cried out' but generously stated that he liked the way I sang it. That's so much a part of his personality - not wanting to hurt the other person by any criticism...
After the concert, during which Bojjandi will talk continuously, along with requests to 'shcat my bat' - which he just says to copy his siblings, you could tapdance on his shoulder and he would think you were shcatting his bat, he will turn to his side and keep repeating your name over and over, a sure sign that he's sleepy. He's still pretty alert to any signs of wrongdoing, though - tonight, I started patting his forehead, hoping to make him nod off sooner, and he reprimanded me sternly, "Mamma, don't bang me!"
The other two wait patiently while their noisy and fussy junior gets to sleep, sometimes falling asleep themselves in the process. Then comes the argument about who gets their back scratched first and whose back gets patted first. Finally, when I think these two are sleepy enough to go off on their own, I tiptoe out of their room, wishing them, as per family joke and tradition, 'gooda nayatoo, sudarimasu. I love you cherry vammu...
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Long overdue updates
I started this blog because I thought it'd be great for the kids to see my memories of them laid out over the years once they got older. Of course, that only works when you are laying out those memories at regular intervals instead of practically once a year as I have been. Suffice it to say it has been a hectic time for several reasons so I've hardly been blogging this year.
But it's high time to update everyone on what's going on. To start with, I can proudly say that Chubbocks is a reader! I kind of had the feeling he would be, what with us owning (yes, I have to brag about this) over 5000 books and having set up a library at home, and the fact that he used to mug up his favourite books from the age of two and a bit onwards and pretend to be reading them out, but still...now he's a bonafide member of the reader's clan. I gave hima reading list this summer, of books that he could read over and above the stuff he was into anyway, like Horrid henry etc, and I'm delighted to say he has made great headway, and he loves some of those books and is dying to read them again, if only the list of new reads wasn't so exciting. I have also started a book club for kids his age, and plan to have a meeting this weekend if possible, so i'm looking forward to it.
Puddi has as always made a smooth transition, as butter-soft as her cheeks, from playschool to full time school. We were a little worried the first couple of days as she would go in crying but that passed really fast and now l'il madam comes and goes on the school bus. A rode along the first morning she went by bus, and apparently Puddi confidently marched to a seat, sat down and began chattering away with a boy from Class III or IV, much to his embarrassment! Poor thing, she does have a long school day for a four year old - from 7:45 am to 3:15 pm when she returns, and there are days when she gets cranky from being tired. But on the whole she's taken to it like a duck to water.
And now Bojjandi is also in school! He's in playschool twice a week. It's a parent-accompanied class so I go once a week and my maid goes with him once a week. And this little kiddo just loves it. We were lucky enough to get the same magical teacher who first taught Chubbocks and Puddi ( Jimmy is famous in Gurgaon), and Bojji has really taken a liking to him and to school. Now every day, in fact several times a day and even at odd times like after dinner, Bojjandi will start plaintively demanding, "ecooy jaana hai"( school jaana hai). Within two sessions at school he was singing along to 'Three little monkeys' and his English is growing by leaps and bounds. Now it's become a common sight around our colony to see him marching along wearing an empty old school bag on his shoulders, in imitation of Puddi and Chubbocks.
It's quite interesting to see the dynamics between the three siblings. There are times when they play very well together and it's lovely to hear three giggles pealing out through the house. Chubbocks is really protective of Puddi if anyone, including we, threaten her, and they have also reached the stage where they can play some board games together - Snakes and Ladder, Ouch etc.
But Chubbocks has reached a stage where he thinks he should be able to boss Puddi around because he's older, and my spirited gal ain't having any of that. So last night at the dinner table, I was telling Chubbocks to be careful not to get any food stains on his father's white shirt as he was perilously waving his dinner spoon around. As usual, Chubbocks tried to be contrarian and say, "The shirt isn't even white". So Puddi puts her oar in with a contemptuous, "Don't talk rubbish, ok! It is white." And she does it so nonchalantly that it has A and me in fits of laughter!
Then she and Bojji have a very different equation. She loves him but he's a bit jealous of her so he'll come up to me and complain, "puddi puchin"( Puddi pushing). Or he'll demand the exact toy she's chosen to play with and cry his heat out if she doesn't hand it over. Sometimes she'll reach out to hug or kiss him and he'll shy away. But then there are the times when they both go whirling around a room like dervishes before falling down bang! on the carpet, in a crazy game and laugh together for hours...
But it's high time to update everyone on what's going on. To start with, I can proudly say that Chubbocks is a reader! I kind of had the feeling he would be, what with us owning (yes, I have to brag about this) over 5000 books and having set up a library at home, and the fact that he used to mug up his favourite books from the age of two and a bit onwards and pretend to be reading them out, but still...now he's a bonafide member of the reader's clan. I gave hima reading list this summer, of books that he could read over and above the stuff he was into anyway, like Horrid henry etc, and I'm delighted to say he has made great headway, and he loves some of those books and is dying to read them again, if only the list of new reads wasn't so exciting. I have also started a book club for kids his age, and plan to have a meeting this weekend if possible, so i'm looking forward to it.
Puddi has as always made a smooth transition, as butter-soft as her cheeks, from playschool to full time school. We were a little worried the first couple of days as she would go in crying but that passed really fast and now l'il madam comes and goes on the school bus. A rode along the first morning she went by bus, and apparently Puddi confidently marched to a seat, sat down and began chattering away with a boy from Class III or IV, much to his embarrassment! Poor thing, she does have a long school day for a four year old - from 7:45 am to 3:15 pm when she returns, and there are days when she gets cranky from being tired. But on the whole she's taken to it like a duck to water.
And now Bojjandi is also in school! He's in playschool twice a week. It's a parent-accompanied class so I go once a week and my maid goes with him once a week. And this little kiddo just loves it. We were lucky enough to get the same magical teacher who first taught Chubbocks and Puddi ( Jimmy is famous in Gurgaon), and Bojji has really taken a liking to him and to school. Now every day, in fact several times a day and even at odd times like after dinner, Bojjandi will start plaintively demanding, "ecooy jaana hai"( school jaana hai). Within two sessions at school he was singing along to 'Three little monkeys' and his English is growing by leaps and bounds. Now it's become a common sight around our colony to see him marching along wearing an empty old school bag on his shoulders, in imitation of Puddi and Chubbocks.
It's quite interesting to see the dynamics between the three siblings. There are times when they play very well together and it's lovely to hear three giggles pealing out through the house. Chubbocks is really protective of Puddi if anyone, including we, threaten her, and they have also reached the stage where they can play some board games together - Snakes and Ladder, Ouch etc.
But Chubbocks has reached a stage where he thinks he should be able to boss Puddi around because he's older, and my spirited gal ain't having any of that. So last night at the dinner table, I was telling Chubbocks to be careful not to get any food stains on his father's white shirt as he was perilously waving his dinner spoon around. As usual, Chubbocks tried to be contrarian and say, "The shirt isn't even white". So Puddi puts her oar in with a contemptuous, "Don't talk rubbish, ok! It is white." And she does it so nonchalantly that it has A and me in fits of laughter!
Then she and Bojji have a very different equation. She loves him but he's a bit jealous of her so he'll come up to me and complain, "puddi puchin"( Puddi pushing). Or he'll demand the exact toy she's chosen to play with and cry his heat out if she doesn't hand it over. Sometimes she'll reach out to hug or kiss him and he'll shy away. But then there are the times when they both go whirling around a room like dervishes before falling down bang! on the carpet, in a crazy game and laugh together for hours...
Friday, June 5, 2009
TO OUR CLOWN PRINCESS ON HER 3RD BIRTHDAY
Well, I started out to blog about Puddi, my puddacious daughter, for her upcoming third birthday. But words, my constant companions in everything I do failed me this time. I just couldn't find the right words to encapsulate what she means to me, how she lights up our lives, to describe her kooky personality and the things she does...So I decided to hand over my pen ( keyboard in this case) to my better 1/3rd, as he is far more gifted with words than I am, to tell our dear daughter how we feel about her.
All I can bring myself to say is that if I could have imagined a daughter and brought her to life, she would have been such a pale, insipid thing compared to my beautiful butterfly of a Puddi. You fill up my heart, darling. Happy birthday!
Love, Mama
Guest post by A
My dearest Puddi,
What can I say about you which words can capture adequately?
Let me try comparisons. There was Lucille Ball. There was Sridevi. And now there’s you. The same impish personality, and the same ability to make everyone laugh by doing something completely kooky, even as they’re gasping over how pretty you are. The same gift of just walking into a room and stealing a scene, simply by ensuring that no one can take their eyes off your face.
How about food metaphors? You’re like an ice-cream rolled into a lemon meringue pie, to which lots of cream has been added, with some spice on top for taste. And all that’s actually just in the first spoonful.
Hmm – let’s try just talking about life with you. I never cease to be amazed by how you can look like a tomboy in T-shirt and shorts, and transform into a little lady the moment you’re in a frock or a dress. I love how you wake up frowning with your wild hair all mussed, and then suddenly make the morning good by switching on that dazzling smile. Your thirst for adventure and desire for new experiences (inherited in spades from your mom) lift my spirits and remind me just how full of possibilities life can be. It’s a joy to watch you playing with your two brothers - I hope they’ll always appreciate what a loving, fun sister they have. It breaks my heart to see your small face crumple and tears roll down your soft cheeks if your mom or I scold you – it feels as if we’ve violated a sacred vow. I can’t bear the thought of anything so much as scratching you (that’s my alibi for being the exceptionally protective father that you’ll soon discover I am – your boyfriends better watch out!).
Nah. You know what, there’s no point in trying to describe you – it’s like chasing a rainbow with a butterfly net.
So let me just say that you’re a big chunk of my heart, that I didn’t know what having a daughter would change my life in so many ways, and that I already choke up when I think of you going away one day.
So have a very happy birthday sweetheart, and here’s hoping each of your birthdays celebrates a year which was better than the last.
You make us feel truly blessed. Thank you for being our daughter.
With all my love
Abba
What can I say about you which words can capture adequately?
Let me try comparisons. There was Lucille Ball. There was Sridevi. And now there’s you. The same impish personality, and the same ability to make everyone laugh by doing something completely kooky, even as they’re gasping over how pretty you are. The same gift of just walking into a room and stealing a scene, simply by ensuring that no one can take their eyes off your face.
How about food metaphors? You’re like an ice-cream rolled into a lemon meringue pie, to which lots of cream has been added, with some spice on top for taste. And all that’s actually just in the first spoonful.
Hmm – let’s try just talking about life with you. I never cease to be amazed by how you can look like a tomboy in T-shirt and shorts, and transform into a little lady the moment you’re in a frock or a dress. I love how you wake up frowning with your wild hair all mussed, and then suddenly make the morning good by switching on that dazzling smile. Your thirst for adventure and desire for new experiences (inherited in spades from your mom) lift my spirits and remind me just how full of possibilities life can be. It’s a joy to watch you playing with your two brothers - I hope they’ll always appreciate what a loving, fun sister they have. It breaks my heart to see your small face crumple and tears roll down your soft cheeks if your mom or I scold you – it feels as if we’ve violated a sacred vow. I can’t bear the thought of anything so much as scratching you (that’s my alibi for being the exceptionally protective father that you’ll soon discover I am – your boyfriends better watch out!).
Nah. You know what, there’s no point in trying to describe you – it’s like chasing a rainbow with a butterfly net.
So let me just say that you’re a big chunk of my heart, that I didn’t know what having a daughter would change my life in so many ways, and that I already choke up when I think of you going away one day.
So have a very happy birthday sweetheart, and here’s hoping each of your birthdays celebrates a year which was better than the last.
You make us feel truly blessed. Thank you for being our daughter.
With all my love
Abba
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
My Debbil Woman
Puddi has well and truly hit the terrible twos. Until then, she was a high-spirited sprite. Now she's a strong-willed little brat who has a daily battle with dinner. God knows why the first signs of rebellion always have to do with food - her brother was the same, and has only recently begun to eat like people again, otherwise he used to eat less than an ant needs to stay alive ( touch wood). So this chile, who used to gobble up her food and ask everyone who came to the park for their snacks, as if she was a starvation victim, now turns up her nose at dinner every single day. It doesn't matter what's cooked for dinner, whether it's her favourite dahi-chawal, pulao, rotis with ghee, sandwiches, parathas...everything's passe.
Of course, having been through the process once, I try and stay cool about it. But day after day of not eating dinner surely can't be good, especially when the little girl wakes up in the middle of the night complaining about stomach-ache brought on by the empty stomach. So yesterday I decided to take on the battle, little realising that this would be my Waterloo. Started off by giving her pulao and dahi. The dahi got eaten up while the pulao was stirred around the plate and smeared on the table for good measure. Got someone to take away the plate and decided to initiate Puddi into the art of time-outs. I gave her 2 minutes of time out standing at the balcony door and looking out at the dark night outside. Two minutes are up, but Puddi is quite happy to be standing there - she thinks it's a new game and says, "Puddi nahi hai. kahaan chali gayi?"
Gah! Bring her back to the table, and this time mix the dahi into the pulao, hoping that'll do the trick. Nope, not even one morsel goes through those rosebud lips. I decide on another time out, in her playroom this time, leave her in and shut the door. Peer in half a minute later to see if she's upset since I don't hear any noise, which is usually a sign of danger. Nope - she's sitting on the mattress looking around the room, cool as a cucumber. Okay, drastic measures are called for, I think and switch off the light. No reaction. I bring her out since I panic at the thought of her sitting in a dark room.
Try again - this time plain dahi-chawal. No response. Give her a time-out on the balcony this time. Put her out and watch anxiously through the window. The child doesn't move a hair, she happily stares around at the dark night sky, the tree outside, the broken flowerpot...I give up. Bring her in, clear up dinner and let her putter around. She plays happily, while I slump, defeated, arms locked behind me in Napoleonic imitation. I'll have to exile meself, methinks!
Just to give you a glimpse of how much attitude she can throw:
Friday, February 8, 2008
Puddi's illness and what we learned from it
Puddi fell badly ill with some gastro-enteric + something else viral infection last week and wound up having to be hospitalised for five days last week. The whole episode was traumatic, and though she seems to be bouncing back with the resilience only children have, we know she's still traumatised by the way she howls when put into her crib at night. I think she fears having the drip inserted again.
It started with a simple episode of her throwing up early morning. We thought it was because she had been too warmly covered - A and I do tend to err on the side of caution, because she and her brother have a habit of kicking off their bedcovering. That evening when I came back from work, I found she had a fever. I took the next day off and took her down to the paediatrician who said it looked like a simple viral which sometimes causes throwing-up episodes and prescribed an emetic and fever SOS medication. She was ok that day and managed to keep her food down after the emetic, though she had less than her usually healthy appetite.
The next morning she threw up again so A took her to see the paediatrician that morning. She was prescribed an additional antibiotic and seemed ok by lunch when he left for work. By afternoon, she had raging fever of 104 and had to be sponged down. Mom called me and I rushed home in a panic, because she had also been throwing up everything, including water.
I had had an uneasy feeling since the first time she had thrown up that this was a gastric bug. I don't know why because she's been through a fever/ viral once before that involved throwing up but this time, I had an instinctive fear. We figured the next morning would be too late so we called the paediatrician and she asked us to rush Puds to the hospital. Once there, she was promptly hooked up to the drip as she was mildly dehydrated, and then it was a series of gloomy up-and-down days when she would throw up, dislodge the most hideously watery and green potty and lie moaning piteously all day.
It was really sad to watch this perpetual motion machine tied down to the bed and not just not protesting but lying there not moving. From someone who chatters all day, always has a naughty twinkle in her eye, moving her cute little fanny from side to side when music plays and being the family dog, i.e. begging everyone to give her a taste of whatever they are eating or drinking, she turned into a 'goongi gudiya' - a mute doll who just lay apathetically, said no to any form of oral nutrition including water which we otherwise have to keep far out of her reach, shook her head negatively when music played and stopped speaking, apart from heart-rending little moans. She lost a good 25% of her body weight in 2 days and now weighs as much as she did when she was a year old.
Thankfully she's back at home, being her usual nutty self - the family dog in action, wiggling her butt to the tinny sound of every television advertisement she hears, playing tricks and stealing water. Most of her clothes are somewhat loose for her now, but I guess that's a matter of time, especially if she has my genes and genius for gaining weight.
What did we learn from this?
....To always err on the side of panic when it comes to the kids' health and well-being. No matter how good a doctor is, they don't know your child as you do and won't be able to read the signs of an inarticulate sick child as you can. Never try and brave it out or fear being a nuisance to the doctor - you should be one when it comes to the kids...
...To listen to your instinct when it tells you something. I keep telling myself this when I quiz but it's a good life lesson as well. I should have had her stool and urine checked up immediately after she threw up the first time, when something told me this was serious...
...That family is the most important thing in life ( in case we had forgotten that). It comes before everything else - friends, money, career, status ( if you care about it)...absolutely before everything else...
...That you should have a paediatrician closer home. Ours lives half an hour away but I want someone within 10 minutes...
...That eternity is the definition of the time it takes you to get your sick child to the hospital. I almost couldn't breathe during the drive to the hospital.
...That protective instinct is the term attributed to my willingness that evening to singlehandedly blow up all other cars off the road so I could race her to hospital sooner...
...That Chubbocks is an amazingly sensitive boy and no matter how grown-up he seems sometimes, he needs to be treated with extra love and care...
It started with a simple episode of her throwing up early morning. We thought it was because she had been too warmly covered - A and I do tend to err on the side of caution, because she and her brother have a habit of kicking off their bedcovering. That evening when I came back from work, I found she had a fever. I took the next day off and took her down to the paediatrician who said it looked like a simple viral which sometimes causes throwing-up episodes and prescribed an emetic and fever SOS medication. She was ok that day and managed to keep her food down after the emetic, though she had less than her usually healthy appetite.
The next morning she threw up again so A took her to see the paediatrician that morning. She was prescribed an additional antibiotic and seemed ok by lunch when he left for work. By afternoon, she had raging fever of 104 and had to be sponged down. Mom called me and I rushed home in a panic, because she had also been throwing up everything, including water.
I had had an uneasy feeling since the first time she had thrown up that this was a gastric bug. I don't know why because she's been through a fever/ viral once before that involved throwing up but this time, I had an instinctive fear. We figured the next morning would be too late so we called the paediatrician and she asked us to rush Puds to the hospital. Once there, she was promptly hooked up to the drip as she was mildly dehydrated, and then it was a series of gloomy up-and-down days when she would throw up, dislodge the most hideously watery and green potty and lie moaning piteously all day.
It was really sad to watch this perpetual motion machine tied down to the bed and not just not protesting but lying there not moving. From someone who chatters all day, always has a naughty twinkle in her eye, moving her cute little fanny from side to side when music plays and being the family dog, i.e. begging everyone to give her a taste of whatever they are eating or drinking, she turned into a 'goongi gudiya' - a mute doll who just lay apathetically, said no to any form of oral nutrition including water which we otherwise have to keep far out of her reach, shook her head negatively when music played and stopped speaking, apart from heart-rending little moans. She lost a good 25% of her body weight in 2 days and now weighs as much as she did when she was a year old.
Thankfully she's back at home, being her usual nutty self - the family dog in action, wiggling her butt to the tinny sound of every television advertisement she hears, playing tricks and stealing water. Most of her clothes are somewhat loose for her now, but I guess that's a matter of time, especially if she has my genes and genius for gaining weight.
What did we learn from this?
....To always err on the side of panic when it comes to the kids' health and well-being. No matter how good a doctor is, they don't know your child as you do and won't be able to read the signs of an inarticulate sick child as you can. Never try and brave it out or fear being a nuisance to the doctor - you should be one when it comes to the kids...
...To listen to your instinct when it tells you something. I keep telling myself this when I quiz but it's a good life lesson as well. I should have had her stool and urine checked up immediately after she threw up the first time, when something told me this was serious...
...That family is the most important thing in life ( in case we had forgotten that). It comes before everything else - friends, money, career, status ( if you care about it)...absolutely before everything else...
...That you should have a paediatrician closer home. Ours lives half an hour away but I want someone within 10 minutes...
...That eternity is the definition of the time it takes you to get your sick child to the hospital. I almost couldn't breathe during the drive to the hospital.
...That protective instinct is the term attributed to my willingness that evening to singlehandedly blow up all other cars off the road so I could race her to hospital sooner...
...That Chubbocks is an amazingly sensitive boy and no matter how grown-up he seems sometimes, he needs to be treated with extra love and care...
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Toddler
The word Toddler is a funny, bumpy sort of word that doesn't roll off the tongue - just like a toddler's walk...toddle. I love watching Puddi move around - her body language is so imperfect and yet so perfect. I really wish there was a way I could press pause and have her at this stage for a while longer...before I know it, she'll have moved on to walking properly, running, talking full sentences and all of that...
I love the way Puddi is always on the move, as if she has suddenly discovered what her legs are for, and is too excited to sit still any longer. Back and forth she goes, giggling with the thrill of being able to exercise independent will, moving as fast as she can. Her whole body leans forward, the steps are sure, even while suddenly the weight of her diapered butt drags her off course or an unwary step brings her plopping on the ground. She thankfully lands with the limpness of not knowing and fearing the consequences of a fall, and therefore gets hurt much less.
I love the little hands of my Puddi, always busy, always exploring with her tiny yet capable fingers as she figures how to flick a switch on and off, or points the remote towards the television in imitation of us. The little hand that, surely just months ago, she wasn't even aware belonged to her, and seemed like a mysterious object and which she used to stare at in such fascination...Now it's able to reach for a morsel of food and put it into her mouth, now it can grab my necklace or pull a toy along, or pick up a crayon and scribble all over the floor...
I love the way she moves and expresses emotion. She has several smiles. One is a wide and toothy grin that shows off her four big teeth in the top gum. There's the sleepily cuddly one, reserved for early mornings and bedtimes. There's the excited one which comes on when I get home from the office and lights up her whole face. There's a mischievous one, slightly sideways, mouth and eyes just partly open. There's the one where she closes her eyes slowly, with a wide grin on her face, which she gives me when playing on my lap. And the best one, which she gives when she's thoroughly enjoying herself - she moves her whole little body from side to side , with a wide grin on her face and an expression in her eyes just asking you to share the joy with her.
And I love her babyliciously soft skin...like roses or soft, soft velvet...like the brush of feathers...like a deep well of cream...
I love the way Puddi is always on the move, as if she has suddenly discovered what her legs are for, and is too excited to sit still any longer. Back and forth she goes, giggling with the thrill of being able to exercise independent will, moving as fast as she can. Her whole body leans forward, the steps are sure, even while suddenly the weight of her diapered butt drags her off course or an unwary step brings her plopping on the ground. She thankfully lands with the limpness of not knowing and fearing the consequences of a fall, and therefore gets hurt much less.
I love the little hands of my Puddi, always busy, always exploring with her tiny yet capable fingers as she figures how to flick a switch on and off, or points the remote towards the television in imitation of us. The little hand that, surely just months ago, she wasn't even aware belonged to her, and seemed like a mysterious object and which she used to stare at in such fascination...Now it's able to reach for a morsel of food and put it into her mouth, now it can grab my necklace or pull a toy along, or pick up a crayon and scribble all over the floor...
I love the way she moves and expresses emotion. She has several smiles. One is a wide and toothy grin that shows off her four big teeth in the top gum. There's the sleepily cuddly one, reserved for early mornings and bedtimes. There's the excited one which comes on when I get home from the office and lights up her whole face. There's a mischievous one, slightly sideways, mouth and eyes just partly open. There's the one where she closes her eyes slowly, with a wide grin on her face, which she gives me when playing on my lap. And the best one, which she gives when she's thoroughly enjoying herself - she moves her whole little body from side to side , with a wide grin on her face and an expression in her eyes just asking you to share the joy with her.
And I love her babyliciously soft skin...like roses or soft, soft velvet...like the brush of feathers...like a deep well of cream...
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