When my mother said 'wait till you become a mother yourself' with a smirk, I, in true daughter fashion, returned the smirk with a pooh-pooh and a shrug. Of course, I see the immense sense in that statement only after I became a mother myself. Still not a fan of the smirk though.
I'm a fairly new mom- having embarked on this journey 6 months back but even in this short span, the changes I see in myself and the life I lead, are honestly, shocking. Recounting my top 5.
1. Fast and furious- Though a type A personality who spoke, walked and typed fast, when it came to matters more mundane, I set a more leisurely pace for myself. Put on a nice playlist and then shower to soulful music. Enjoy every morsel while watching TV. Stay curled up in bed with a book. Taking 20 minutes to decide what earrings to wear with that dress. Hah. If the me of 2011 could only see the me of late 2012. My teeny tiny employer only takes so many naps in a day, so every break needs to be gainfully employed between must-dos (shower, loo, eat, pump milk) and can-also-do's (read newspaper, send messages, return calls) and since the break could last anywhere between 30 mins to an hour, clearly the must-do's have to be prioritized. So if someone asks me if I enjoyed the slow pace of life during the maternity leave, I would like them to be assured of the breakneck speed with which I operate, while I mentally break their neck.
2. Social circle or lack thereof- Parties with loud music are a thing of the past. My wine cabinet stands forlorn and neglected. It's been a while since I had long conversations with friends. Yes, I do continue to spend time on FB and whatsapp but real conversations with friends and family have been put on hold. Calls get returned every now and then but it is just really hard to synchronise my life with folks who are working because they feel they might be disturbing the baby and I feel their work needs to be disturbed anyway. So much so, my own mother has hung up on me a couple of times because I was describing her grandson's antics while a patient was being just that on her examination table. However, this change is not all bad. When you have limited time and mindspace, you tend to prioritize and you separate the chaff from the grain, the acquaintances from the friends from the really close friends who you can trust with your baby's diaper. Some people just fall off the radar. And from where I stand (from the head of my baby's crib, in case you are wondering), that's for good reason.
I had taken a break from blogging since about 18 months or so. There were too many things happening- travel, work, being pregnant etc. and then again, posting updates on FB was so much easier. I should thank Y (yashodharalal.com) for getting me to visit my own blog after several months, if only to rehash something as a contest entry.
And since I came knock knock knockin' on my own door, only appropriate that I answer in a fitting manner. Time to unleash the little bit of creativity lurking somewhere beneath that thick skull.
Time it is to revive the blog.
If you, dear reader, are still around- time to say hello!
This is from 2008- a mere 3 months after we had been married :) four years and a baby later, it still seems funny enough to repost for Y'sbook contest and a healthy dash of nostalgia.
It's supposed to be a well known and widely acknowledged fact that a boy needs only two belts- brown and black. Since I was on an expedition to another galaxy when they made one and all aware of the above fact, I merrily bought M 3 belts on his birthday. You know, I thought variety would be nice. Also, I have a technical flaw-can't really buy ONE of anything. As far as I can remember, clothes and accessories have always been bought by me in 2's and 3's.
If I thought the ridicule and laughs that followed the unveiling of the gifts was the worst that could happen, I was wrong. You see, M also has a technical flaw- he's a boy. And by definition, that means ridding self of all accessories-wallet, watch, company id, coins, handkerchief- at no fixed spot, each time one comes back home. The dining table, the centre table, the desk, the kitchen counter, the ironing board, the bar counter, the side crockery cabinet, my dressing table, the printer- all have been blessed at some point or the other with his highness' mess.
Now the wallet, company id, watch etc are all essentials and leave with the bearer the next morning- all except the belt because thanks to the generous wife, he proudly owns FIVE of them- 5 belts to strew around the house, as he pleases. So the belts sit pretty in their corners- only to be discovered during the weekly dusting mission. To twist a line from Asian Paints: Har ghar ka kona kuch kehta hai. Ki is konay mein har week ek naya belt rehta hai.
Now I know why boys only need 2 belts. I also know what self inflicted pain means.
In his mind, M equates the bed to an open cupboard, with the result, that the actual cupboard yearns to be populated with clothes, socks or even belts, while the bed in the guest room resembles a clothes' village after a typhoon. The disarray does not attract M's attention but puts me in distress mode.
So I neatly fold all his clothes and restore the bed to some degree of order only to have M tell me in an excited voice " You know our house has magic elves. They fold clothes!" M also refers to the part time maid as our weekly fairy godmother. Sigh.
Do you know of a fairy tale character who spanks kids who mess up their rooms? M needs to be introduced to that character. Before I become the wicked witch of the north/west.
We've watched quite a few Hindi movies heavy on Urdu/Punjabi words in the recent past (Khuda Kay Liye, A Wednesday, Singh is King)- enough to have taught M the use of words & phrases such as " fakr hai", "mehfooz", "mehsoos", "ijaazat", "bhootni ke", "kamaal hai", which he uses in the most unlikely situations- e..g instead of how are you, he asks me "sab khairiyat?" on chat! Sounds ever more hilarious in person- the lovely Tam accent accentuates the fun :)
We watch animal planet quite regularly and he keeps asking me for animals' names in Hindi. And since, I havent yet mastered the art of shoving my foot in my mouth, I tell him.
He's using baby magarmachch (crocodile) , baby gilahari (squirrel) and lakkadbagghi (hyena)as terms of endearment for me.
I quite like gilahari, though.
Posted by Quirky Quill at 11:38 AM
Labels: life has a sense of humour, pyaar ke side effects
I have heard those stories so many times.
Of how I learnt to walk or the things I hated to eat.
The tales of my childhood that no camera can repeat.
I recreate them in my head as you narrate the memories in words.
But go ahead Aai, tell me once more.
Tell me of the time I was less than one.
Of my unsure steps and my wobbly gait
that paused after a fall, just as the fun had begun.
Of how instead of latching on to any available support,
I held out my index finger for some adult to hold.
Tell me of the time when I was only two.
The poems that you helped me learn
and the book that had pictures too.
Of how I made people believe that I could already read
When I was really reciting from memory and using the pictures as cue.
Tell me again of the time I lied to you
It was sunday afternoon and the time for my TV show
you let me watch when I told you the homework was done
A blank notebook earned me my first ever slap
Harsh as it was, I learnt my lesson
Tell me of how I was a chatterbox, a contrast to your first born.
Of the clips and bows and ribbons and bands, I insited you put on me
Of how I'd choose a dress myself but never ever wear it again.
And the pre-exam wake up calls with coffee and breakfast at three.
Tell me also of the times when I behaved badly with you
Of the countless arguments and fights and the midnight curfew
Tell me you forgive me for the times I slammed the door
Of how I would have still had buck teeth were it not for you.
Go ahead, tell me once more Aai,
Tell me so I realize that you've shaped what I've come to be.
So each time I look at the mirror, I find a bit of you in me.
Tell me once more, so I can see myself from the lens that you saw me through.
So i know that no matter what my age, I'm nothing but a part of you.
(Aai means Mother in Marathi and this is also, how I address my mother)