Thursday, January 31, 2008

Time to change

I actually wanted to write about it being time to change my job. Change is good, I told myself, and then for some strange reason, remembered poop-filled diapers. Lol! And wrote the previous post. Just felt like I had to.
Anyway, the boss decided to take away my car-and-driver perks (inevitable thanks to the rising rupee and the boss goofing up on many a business plan). Somehow, it didn't affect me much. I plan to buy my own car if I can't buy the firm car I'm using now for a decent rate. He's let me keep the driver for 2 more months until I perfect my driving. That brings it to the end of the financial year (March end) and I'm hoping to get a job by then or soon after. Not meaning to be ungrateful or anything, but this thing was supposed to be my hike for last year and now he's taking it away. It's a pay cut, really.
I'm not angry (surprise, surprise) or humiliated (not many people in the office know, so it's okay) or even feeling bad. Somehow, I'd been expecting this. Don't ask me why.
So now I have no excuse to not start searching for another job. Especially now that boss has decided that I need to be an analyst and write the CFA. C-F-A -- there, I wrote it. That's the best I can do. :-P
Seriously, I signed up as a writer/editor, but boss claims I can't write or edit. Interesting. But one man (who can't even spell right half the time) is not going to shake my confidence in my abilities.
Maybe I'll have to take a paycut: not a problem since DH is back to work and will hopefully complete his probation successfully by the time I quit this place.
What a month this has been! February, I do hope you're better.

Just a thought

Change is good, unless there's a dirty diaper involved.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Not Mean, Just Me First For a While

Ever noticed how life gets thrown out of gear at the worst possible moment? The flat tire when you’re heading for an important job interview, the blinding migraine before a major presentation at work, the stain on your blouse/skirt/jacket that shows up five minutes before you’re due to meet your boss for your annual review.

Then there’s other, less earth-shattering stuff, but equally lethal in the long run. Like everybody in a family coming down with the worst case of flu in a decade. So you use up half your vacation days (goodbye, holiday on the beach, sniff), get low on energy and high on a short fuse. And when you think the worst is over, it isn’t.

The whole menu has to be radically changed for days because people in the family are still suffering from sore throats, upset stomachs and whatnot. And as the wife-and-mommy, you’re the primary caregiver (oh, how misleadingly sweet that sounds!) so you have to ensure that your family is taken care of. As for you, well, didn’t they call you Superwoman and try to disguise it as a compliment? So you can’t take a day off, not unless you stop caring altogether. This is really not possible because you are the primary caregiver and so you can’t stop caring – it goes with the territory of a working mom.

Take today’s example, for instance. I gave notice this morning to the DH, declaring I wasn’t cooking for the rest of the week. By the time I got to the office, I was contemplating extending that to the next one month. I simply cannot continue cooking the elaborate stuff that DH wants and expects. Not while I too am recovering from an illness. Managing a cranky six-year-old who’s just come through a debilitating fever and upset stomach at 7 am is hard enough without having to cook an elaborate meal, feeding the brat and getting him into the school bus on time and reaching the office by 9 am.

But husbands – especially spoilt brat husbands – have the devil’s own luck. There’s a gastro-enteritis outbreak in the part of town where his office is. So of course, he can’t eat out. So I’ll be making something everyday for quite some time. He may not like the quickies I put together. I don’t care. In fact, having to nuke his own dinner stressed him out enough to turn in early tonight. He’s already throwing temper tantrums at the thought of fending for himself. Ha! Let him.

Sometimes, you need to love yourself enough to stop putting everybody else ahed of yourself for a little while.

Sometimes, not caring is important

No, there isn't any great moral story or philosophy encrypted in the title. It's just that I've had enough. Really. Just stopped caring about the 101 things that used to get me worked up. I'm ill, exhausted and not in any condition to take any more crap from anyone. This probably sounds evil but it was great to watch DH struggling with heating his dinner in the microwave.

It's 9 pm and my son hasn't done his homework yet. He's got plenty pending from last week when he couldn't attend school because he was ill. But every time I've asked him to do it, he starts to whine and cry and whatnot. So I told him that he was 6 years old now and getting the homework done before he went to sleep was his responsibility.

Here's one thing I do care about. I know that if I don't cook something tomorrow, my husband is not going to pack himself a sandwich. His boss is in town, so they'll either go to some swanky place for lunch or he'll order something from some shady joint. Problem is, there's gastro-enteritis epidemic in the area where is office is. So I'll rustle up something in the morning. It's not going to satisfy him, but I honestly do not have the patience or the energy to roll out any more rotis. Health over happiness. This is a man whose life revolves around eating well and sleeping well (I have it straight from the horse's mouth - in black & white, too.) So a little discomfort will do him well. A little rest will do me a lot of good. And frankly, I need to reclaim my sanity.

I haven't done one thing from that list I posted a couple of days back. Also forgot to buy my lens solution today. So I'm going to be squinting at the monitor at work tomorrow unless I can buy a bottle on the way to office.

More evil thoughts later. There's a sandwich I need to enjoy.

On strike in the kitchen

I knew I would do something like this sooner or later! And I've done it today. As of tomorrow morning, I'm not cooking. I'll probably put together the Poppet's milk (mix Bournvita with hot milk and sugar) but that's about it, I think. I need a break from the whole good-wife routine in the mornings. I can't stress myself out like this every morning trying to think of what to make and having to make 12 rotis even though my back is killing me from standing up.

Either we all need to sleep at least an hour early (oh Munchkin, when will you start to sleep by 10.30 at least?) or my DH needs to GROW UP and fend for himself. True, he's better around the house than a lot of other Indian husbands, but seriously, not being able to pack his own lunch box after I've done all the cooking is just plain dumb. No more spoonfeeding. And he needs to NOT switch on the computer first thing in the morning. Damn you Orkut and Cricinfo!

The worst part is that he still brags - yes, openly brags - about how he can cook for himself. Really? Well, I'd like him to survive on his own cooking for a week at a stretch (no ordering-in allowed) and see him keep his sanity. He hasn't cooked anything more than an egg in years. So this is going to be worth watching. Seriously. How many vegetable sandwiches is he going to eat?

For the past 3 years, I've listened to him rant about how his doc says he shouldn't eat out and done my best to ensure that there is something home-made to eat at home. I've been taunted and insulted and riled for my pains and I've had enough! He's just gone back to work now, so let him get his own food, too. That may sound nasty but really, he needs to learn to cook what he expects me to cook all the time. Or he needs to grow up and ADMIT he's a lousy cook. Hey, he doesn't even have to please the kid with his cooking. My mother is only too happy to take care of all the brat's meals. And the brat will be just as happy too.

So now, DH, let the challenge begin!

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Things to do: The list grows longer

When you 'lose' 10 days of your life, it gets a little difficult to catch up. Especially when you're a working mom with a sick kid, sick mom, moody DH, scary Dad and of course, your own aches, pains and coughs. Sigh.

As of now, I have to start reading DH's novel. (He was supposed to go out of town for a few days but that trip just got cancelled...sniff...no vacation for me.) Then I have to go to the tailor and pick up a blouse and give her long overdue instructions about another dress. DH has to be fitted for a suit, and I have to buy material for a saree blouse for the fancy office do coming up in 3 weeks.

Half my shoes and sandals are in need of repair so I need to get those fixed and stop wearing really sad looking footwear to the office.

My eyeliner is lost, so I'm looking sicker than I feel.

I have to reschedule an appointment I missed with the doctor last week.

I have to sort out a mutual fund related mess that started after my broker goofed up. Have to get the KYC compliance done by Thursday as well.

I'm tired of eating bland stuff but would feel terribly guilty about eating anything else coz that's about all my son can eat right now.

I had better buy a bottle of lens solution today or spend tomorrow squinting at my computer screen and at the world in general. (When am I going to get a new pair of glasses, you ask? Last time I wore my old pair for 3 days, I had a crick in the neck...so.....)

The driver has disappeared again...some family thing, he claims. He seems to be doing that pretty often and it's ruining my plans all the time. Oh yes, have to restart my driving lessons. Wonder if my deposit holds good. Not that I'm going to be cruisin' through the streets of Bangalore any time soon, but at least I won't be dependent on the driver all the time. At least I think I won't.

What I really want to do is sleep for maybe 24 hours at a stretch and feel fresh again and not have to worry about my son's health and how much he's missed at school.

Oh yes, and most important of all, we have to make the contribution at the children's home. Munchkin said that whatever we might have spent on his birthday party was to be given to the less privileged. Must get that done by the end of the week. Working Saturday this time, crap. Next Monday then, no later.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

What a Week!

Last weekend, I was gearing up for Munchkin's birthday. (And mine, three days before his.) We had decided to do away with the whole noisy party thing this year and take him out to lunch instead. After that, we thought, we'd take him to a nice store and let him pick out something he wanted as a birthday gift. He also wanted to give out some chocolates to his friends in the apartment building. That was fine too. And he'd agreed to my mum's suggestion that whatever might have been spent on his birthday party, we'd give away the amount to an orphanage.

On Sunday afternoon, the brat felt a little hot - to me, anyway. That evening, my mum came down with a mild case of food poisoning despite not having eaten anything that hadn't been cooked at home. Munchkin and I decided to spend the night with her. But by midnight, Munchkin was burning up. I took him to the doctor the next day who suspected it was a viral fever but hoped it could be contained without antibiotics. That evening, he had a temperature of 104.4F!! And he hates sponging. That was tough. From 7pm until midnight, we did everything to control the fever. Finally, nearing midnight, he agreed to the full-body sponging. This and a dose of Crocin helped bring down the fever to 101. Although the fever seemed to be under control by Wednesday evening, he coughed through the night, bringing back his fever.

In the meantime, my husband (DH), my mother and I all came down with the same thing. It hit Mum especially hard because she was just recovering from the food poisoning. DH is a bit of a hypochondriac so perhaps he was the worst hit. But he had the sense to visit a doctor right away. Mum and I, of course, are incorrigible, managing with home remedies and patience.

Poor Poppet spent his sixth birthday weak and hot and very, very cranky. And there was another trip to the doctor who finally started him on antibiotics. The fever had eased up by the next morning, but he was ultra-cranky by now and I'd reached the end of my tether. What with the sleepless nights, sore throat, incessant coughing, runny nose, a mopey-dopey DH, I just could not deal with his outrageous tantrums and blew my fuse twice. I'd also gone off my anti-dep meds. The whole thing did not go down well with my mother, of course.

Anyway, it's Sunday again, and while Poppet is up and about, happy and jumping, eating, I'm ready to collapse! DH is having an extended siesta (like yesterday) while I supervise Poppet. He's watching Jab We Met on TV right now and I'm having a tough time keeping him on the couch - as opposed to peering into the TV screen from point-blank range! Sigh.

At least his appetite is back. Like I keep telling myself: thank God life happens one day at a time.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Confession Time!

Okay, we have a problem. Munchkin is feeling all miserable.

As I posted earlier, DH went back to work a little while ago after spending 13 months at home writing a novel. And when he comes back, he grabs a bite and heads straight for the computer. (One of these days I need to post about the fact that I'm an Orkut/GTalk widow!) Now, although the little fellow is busy playing with his friends until it's almost dinner time, he's taken to announcing that he wants to have dinner at my mum's place. Which we found weird at first but the little rascal is quite attached to her. And given his Coats condition, we don't want him to bawl for no reason. So he's been packing up his dinner and heading down, sometimes making quite a fuss about coming back upstairs to sleep.

Worse, his class teacher at school is not coming back this year. A few months back, she had a severe back problem, has had spinal surgery. Poppet's class got kicked around a bit until the new teacher settled in. He doesn't seem to like her very much. So he's been moaning in the mornings saying he doesn't want to go to school.

But this morning he was positively miserable. Virtually in tears. Last night, he got a major scolding and spanking from his father for making a huge fuss about going to sleep and how many stories he could get before bed-time. Earlier in the evening, he had cried his eyes out saying he wanted pizza for dinner because we hadn't ordered in for a long time. (This is true, it's been a few months, I think. And his father took up his cause. So the two of them had pizza.) At any rate, the little fellow was quite petrified at the end of it all and I had a tough time calming him down. Then I told him a story and made sure he smiled before he went to sleep.

Now, I've scolded him plenty of times before when he wouldn't sleep on time. Past 11 pm is much too late for a four-year-old and yet, he would simply not sleep before then. His sleeping pattern has caused huge fights between my husband and I. None of it is Munchkin's fault, his father self-confessedly needs food on time, peace and quiet, and 8 hours or more of sleep and goes ballistic if there's any noise in the house when he is in his "I-need---" mode.

Anyway, this morning he got ready after the usual whining but when I was putting him into the van, his eyes were brimming over. I promised him we'd take pictures tonight - he loves my new digital camera - and that seemed to cheer him up a bit. Nevertheless, he stuck his arm out of the window of the van as it was driving away and howled: "Bye, Mamma!"

I have a feeling he's feeling neglected. I've never pampered him, although his father has. But that's a different story. The point is, he senses that things have changed. And 13 months is a long time in the life of a six-year-old. For my part, I've made sure I have no chores to do once I'm home except laying the table and heating the food. It was a conscious decision to be able to free up time so I could do whatever he wanted me to do. But I think he misses the stuff he and his father did together. Which wasn't much, but still...

I hope to remedy the situation as soon as I can. I did raise the issue - in a roundabout kind of way - with DH, but he put it down to the changes in school. Before she left, his original teacher - whom Munchkin had quite a soft spot for - had told me that he felt unchallenged in class, bored even because he seems to know so much more than the other children. So one solution is to move him to a better school. Tomorrow, we'll know the results of an entrance test he took last Saturday. He didn't know several of the spellings they asked for but did everything else fine, including the addition and coloring. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. There is one other very good school but seats are subject to vacancies - so we'll know about that only in March or even later. Also, it's quite expensive. Since I am sure that I will quit my job should my son need me at home, DH will have to support us all for a while. I reminded him of this - important, because what he really wants to do is sit at home and write novels and make a living from that. He says he'll aim for a better position somewhere in a couple of years. I can live with that.

In the meantime, I need Poppet to be a happy little boy again. His sixth birthday is just around the corner and he deserves to be really really happy after the tough year he's had.

Monday, January 14, 2008

The Great Indian Matrimony Tango: So what else is new?

I didn't have an arranged marriage. Neither did my parents. So we were all thankfully spared the whole humiliating "see-the-girl-in- a-saree-balancing-12-cups- on-a-tray- and-not-spilling -a-drop-of-tea" ritual. But I was quite surprised this morning when the single women in my office were discussing their experiences regarding wedding proposals.

One colleague - now married - said she'd been 'rejected' by a suitor (read: his family) because she planned to continue working after she got married. This woman has an MBA degree and excellent work experience, but was expected to happily give it all up 'in the interests of the family.' ("Welcome to La Familia..." Hmmm....now where have I heard that before?)

Another woman, an engineer with an MBA in finance, said 'brokers' who call up always ask the question: does she plan to continue working after getting married? "Yes," her father says proudly. "And she plans to continue dancing as well," he adds for good measure. The lady in question is an extremely talented classical dancer and it would be a sad day indeed if she gave up the craft, especially if the move was involuntary.

She's lucky, it would seem. Many Indian parents, after their daughters cross 25 (in some 'liberal' cases, 27) give in to various demands from a prospective groom's family, lest they be accused of "not fulfilling their parental responsibilities" or get the neighborhood gossipping about why their daughter isn't married yet: "She probably has a flawed horoscope," they will say. (This means wrong stars in the wrong houses, which means she was born at the wrong time or under an inauspicious star or planet or something, and hence, is doomed to be pitied. Tsk, tsk.)

Here's a sample interaction - and this is in 2007! She works a for an MNC in a job that involves shifts - her's gets over at 9 pm. So did the prospective bridegroom's, albeit at a different company. This is what the prospective mother-in-law had to say: "See, we are very liberal people. We don't mind her working after the wedding," (Ooo....did you hear that, girl? They're liberal. You must have been born under an auspicious star, indeed.) "But, can't she ask for another shift? I'm getting old. If she continues with this job, she and my son will get home at the same time, and a man likes a hot meal waiting for him when he gets home so late." (Er, yes, any human being would like a hot meal waiting for them when they get home after a day's work and a long commute, but hey, who said life was fair? And if you hadn't pampered your offspring to his teeth, he wouldn't have expected his life partner so spend half her life in the kitchen slaving away for him while he put up his smelly feet and hogged the remote.)

Here's what happened to another prospective bride, a computer science graduate working in the marketing department of a tech firm. Her job involves overseas travel every few months for a week or so. The prospective groom tut-tutted and generously offered to get her a job in the MNC where she worked citing a "regular 9-to-6 routine" and no travel. "I like travelling occasionally, thank you." replied the girl, leaving the fellow slack-jawed, probably at the thought that she could "bear" to spend time away from her lord and master. (Nah, I think it's because his job didn't involve periodic trips to exotic destinations in Europe.) Like Gen Y says, whatever!

Postscript:
Grow up, boys! (And their mommies, in particular.) If India is going to continue following the West, then we need to be prepared to give up on our daily maids and Rs 5000-a-month drivers. As an economy matures, service is going to get expensive and then, the average middle-class indviduals will not be able to afford the housekeeping services that are still so cheap today. With higher education getting steeper by the day and subsidies on their way out, two-income families are more than likely to become more common.

So our boys (and yes, I have a son) better learn to chop their veggies, roll their rotis, dust the furniture, clean the toilets - and do it with a smile - because services provided by maids, drivers, gardeners, and errand boys are going to become the preserve of the rich.

Oh yes, and this also applies to all the pampered girls who proudly say: "I can't even boil an egg." (And not just because they're vegetarian.) Or "I've never threaded a needle in my life!" The bottom line is, being comfortable with basic household skills just makes a life lot easier. And with all the other problems out there, we all deserve to spend our time on better things than fighting over household chores.

Like it or not, this social evolution is inevitable. Are you listening, mommies?

Image: pics.am

Friday, January 11, 2008

Old favorites for new viewers

True, great Indian cinema may synonymous with greats like Satyajit Ray, Bimal Roy, Mehboob Khan, K. Asif, Aravindan, Adoor Gopalakrishnan and others, but two film-makers stand out from the crowd: Hrishikesh Mukherjee and Basu Chatterjee made movies with a next-door feel, plots that could just as easily involve you and your family, and scored a 10 on the entertainment and value-for-money scales! Yes, there were a few others at the time who made equally wonderful films: Sai Paranjpe made Chashme Buddoor, for instance, and Gulzar scripted poetry on the silver screen But the two Bengali babus were in a league of their own.

Each of them has directed dozens of movies but their best creative efforts came during the 1970s. Chatterjee's list of wholesome entertainment (at least the ones I've enjoyed) include Hamari Bahu Alka, Khatta Meetha, Chhoti Si Baat, Baaton Baaton Mein, Chitchor and more touching/'arty' fare like Rajnigandha, Apne Paraye, Piya ka Ghar and Ek Ruka Hua Faisla.

Hrishi-da (as he is fondly known) cooked up equally delicious fare, entertaining us with the likes of Chupke Chupke, Gol Maal, Kisi Se Na Kehna, Rang Birangi, and Naram Garam. He is also the man behind stellar cinema that includes Anand, Anupama, Namak Haram, Mili, Guddi, Sadma, and Bawarchi.

I used to wonder if my son would ever enjoy these movies as much as I did. He is six and belongs to the Dhoom-2 generation. There was no dhoom in these movies, and yet, they appealed to everybody. They were made on shoestring budgets, but starred big names who willingly took a paycut for the privilege of working with Hrishi-da. To me, nobody else brought out the actors in the stars. The likes of Rajesh Khanna, Amitabh Bachchan and Dharmendra were transported away from their silver screen stereotypes to portray very un-filmy characters. They became people who might be living next door to you, facing crises that you might have faced, and bore up to these challenges just like you might have done. There was a certain comfort in the familiarity, be it the inspired Anand or the laugh riot, Chupke Chupke.

Movies today are slick, thrilling, entertaining, but you're unlikely to carry away a part of them with you when you walk out of the multiplex. I wonder if it's the fact that there are many more avenues of entertainment available to us today, diluting the allure of the silver screen. I can't remember the last time I was able to identify with a lead character - not in the past 15 years, anyway. Compare that with Jaya Bhaduri as Mili, living in an apartment building and ganging up the children. Or Utpal Dutt as Bhavani Shankar - the rather strict father of the heroine in Gol Maal. For me, Rekha at her exuberant best as Manju in Khoobsurat beats the sensuous and picture-perfect Chandni of Silsila any day. (Mind you, I have a soft spot for Yash Chopra's films too, but they've rarely, if ever, had people-next-door characters.)

To cut a long story short, my son sat through Khoobsurat even though I kept asking him if he was getting bored. He loved Gol Maal, though, and I'm hoping he'll like a few of my other favorites, too! Here's to hope...

Gol Maal VCD cover image © Shemaroo
Anand Poster
© flixter

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Old movies on new year's eve

On new year's eve, I was at a loose end. We weren't going to a party, nor did we want to. I was (and still am) on a TV boycott because somehow, if I ever watch a single show, it leads to a fight over my "TV addiction." So in the interests of peace in the house, I don't watch TV any more. Not even the news.

So anyway, here I was, working reduced hours that week and wanting to do something nice for my son that evening. His best friend's next door was having extending family over for a new year's eve party and I didn't want him feeling left out. So I walked over to Brigade Road and decided to check out what movies were available to buy.

I deserve some entertainment and if I can't have TV, then why not build up a collection of DVDs (or VCDs). So I picked up a couple of new movies at ridiculously cheap rates - not pirated, mind you, but originals. We ended up watching the Don remake, starring Shah Rukh Khan. My son loved it so that was money well spent.

I also hit paydirt with some classics that I'd been on the lookout for. Movies that I knew my Mum would enjoy as well. So in addition to the relatively new Jab We Met, I got evergreen hits like Naram Garam, Angoor, and Zanjeer. I will soon be adding Gol Maal (which we saw a couple of weeks back, having borrowed it from a friend) and other movies by Hrishikesh Mukherjee and Basu Chatterjee - two of the finest film-makers in India.

More on them later....

Don Poster
© Excel Entertainment Presentation

DH goes back to work

The DH went back to work today after 13 months at home during which time he finished one novel and started on another. It's his old company but a different division. It's a good package, especially since he'll be working with people he's friends with. The job involves some amount of travel and neither of us mind that.

It was quite a rushed affair this morning since all three of us had to leave home at the same time. There were two lunchbags to pack instead of one (and I couldn't seem to find the appropriate containers - after all, 13 months is a long gap) and Poppet got a dressing down for dawdling. He dawdles every day but today, Daddy dear had to go to work too, so he got yelled at. Cried his eyes out.

I felt for him, and felt worse when I remembered that I've done the same thing myself in the past, only to have DH tell me that I was ruining my son's life by "making him cry every morning." Had he not been so vindictive towards me and maturely decided to train our son (instead of mollycoddling him over his morning routine) today's "scene" could have been avoided. Very sad for the little moppet, but he'll have to get used to getting things done on time. He goes into the first grade next June and no matter which school he's in, he'll have to leave earlier than he does now. So he'd better get used to managing his own routine instead of having a parent trail him to get everything done to make sure he makes it to the school bus on time.

Also interesting to observe will be how DH manages waking up early and getting ready on time to leave with me. ;-) And the travel, and the late nights. Watch this space...

Image: Jim @ www.unprofound.com

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

The Ability to Think Straight Seems Like a Miracle!

I had a short visit at the psychiatrist's today. He seemed to think I was improving. I seem to think I'm improving because of the medication. He assured me the dosage was minimal and necessary for a bit longer.

I've been so busy with Poppet and work that I hadn't thought much about what I was going to tell him. But when I sat down there, it became easy. I realized - as I told him this - that for the first time in five years, I was actually "in control of my actions." Of my life, my surroundings, my actions related to my personal life.

Of course, I can't influence what happens to me, but I can influence what I do, how I do it.
Most important of all, I am able to choose to do nothing and make that choice in a calm and composed manner.
I am able to feel less negative.
I am able to look at my husband and no longer feel the urge to flee from his presence.
I am able to hold a conversation with him in a more-than-civilized manner.
I am able to choose my words more carefully.
I am able to not make knee-jerk reactions.
I am able to think about a problem and not worry about it.

Now for the million-dollar question: Can I sustain this on my own without the medication? The doctor believes I can. He said I was doing whatever it was that I was doing and not doing. It wasn't the medication. I believe him, and if that sounds naive, then so be it. I believe him also because I derive strength from that and this will help me in the long run.

My temper no longer flares up the way it used to. My mother always told me, "Learn to keep your temper under control." I had managed to keep quiet when I felt angry but she was addressing a deeper issue: why did I get angry in the first place? That was something I've never had an answer to. But now, I'm able to not feel angry. And that feels amazing.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not euphoric. I was never aiming for euphoria, anyway. But I do feel less disturbed, less uncomfortable, less desperate.

I look back at my life over the past five years and wonder how I survived the past two years. It is like I existed through that time but did not live it. There are patches of awareness, of things that touched my heart - including my son's eye problem and its treatment, or the fact that in some small way, I am repaying my mother for so much that she has done for me. But for the most part, it is like I didn't exist in that time. That just was not ME!

I realized that when I blurted it out to the doctor. That I've always been a person who tackled life's problems head on. Thought over what could be done, and didn't hesitate to do what needed to be done, no matter how difficult it was. And then, I had become this person trying desperately to change, to become the woman my husband wanted me to be. And the worst thing was that the harder I tried, the worse it got. The more I tried to behave the way he wanted, the more mistakes I seemed to be making. Which is what lead to my mini-breakdown and my decision that I needed external help.

I need to write more about those five years, especially the last two, if only to get it out of my system once and for all (if there is such a thing!) Dear God, show me the way...

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Mom & the Internet

It must have been at least 6 years since I first told my mother I would help her learn how to use the computer and surf the Net.

But let me tell you a little about my mother first. She is the most wonderful person I know. She has everlasting patience, a very big heart, the ability to empathize with people in need, the generosity to forgive and genuinely forget, not to mention a moral compass that would put a saint to shame. She has managed her home and hearth to perfection, making it a warm and welcoming place for those of us who lived there and for anyone who visited. She is devoted to her home, is rightfully houseproud but startlingly enough, has rarely, if ever, indulged in the kind of neighbourhood gossipping that many woman revel in. Instead, she has channeled her energies into reading, and is up to date with what's going on in the world, new developments in science and healthcare and just about everything else you can think of.

She's almost 60, has never really used a computer in her life, but she can hold her own in a conversation about Facebook's recent invasion-of-privacy troubles, email viruses, child-protection software, and so on. The twenty- and thirty-something women in our apartment complex have openly gaped whenever she's voiced her thoughts on issues they think she's "too old" to know anything about.

We had a computer at home when half the people in the neighbourhood didn't know what a computer was. A few years after I'd married and left home, she thought she would learn more about the Internet. Although I hate to say it, my father didn't let her. And I, despite my best intentions, have not been able to make time to help her learn.

When the new year came around, I took my laptop down to her apartment, and gave her a quick tutorial on how to put it on, get the wireless datacard going, and open websites and bookmarked pages.

She now has her own email ID, along with a customized page for news and topics that interest her, and is getting the hang of how to run a movie DVD on the laptop.

If I can keep up my end of the bargain, I'm pretty sure her name is going to start popping up at least on recipe websites - she's the world's best cook! I'm not saying that because I'm her daughter. Just about every individual who has every had a meal at our house has sung praises and advised her to start cooking classes. She's a whiz with all kinds of cuisine, especially healthy food that tastes yum.

I'm only sorry I didn't start this earlier. I've had that laptop for a year and a half now. Better late than never, I suppose. Watch this space for updates.

Monday, January 7, 2008

Gray Spot Scare

Last night, just as we were about to turn in, my son came and asked me whether the redness in his Coates eye had increased. My heart skipped a beat. His eye has been very mildly red in the area where he underwent a second round of cryopexy in mid-October. The doctor says it will take time to fade away.

Anyway, I looked at his eye and it looked just the same. I asked him if he was in pain. He said the gray spot was back. (He'd mentioned this once in November and we took him to the doctor, who said it was probably fluid pressure. It would go away in a few days, he said, and sure enough, it did.)

I wrote down a few words which he can read, mixing them up with numbers and taking care to see that he couldn't look at what I was writing. I wrote it lightly in pencil, on a white sheet and we were in a room with no bright lighting. Then, I closed his left eye and asked him to read the stuff with his Coates eye. He did that without any problems whatsoever - without taking extra time and without tilting his head to peer out of the corner of his eye. He also said that the gray spot was there, but that the pencil was darker so he could clearly read everything.

I then made the mistake of asking him whether he saw any flashes, or floaters - bits of light appearing and disappearing - and what color they were: gray, orange, red? The story took a turn after that. He said it was orange and then green and now it wasn't there anymore. But he also drew me a proper picture of his earlier gray spot with his crayons.

To cut a long story short - and after having thought about this half the night, I think this is what happened. He probably does have a gray spot in his vision again but it is possible it has disappeared. I'm not going to worry about the other stuff because knowing him, it is possible that his imagination had interfered! But I do know he's not the kind of kid to have come and enquired about redness in his Coates eye if everything was fine.

We'll take him to the neighborhood eye doctor later today. He was, after all, the person who first suspected that my son had Coates Disease. So I trust him. His specialist is in a hospital that's a fair distance away and there's usually a long waiting line. Besides, the little fellow hates to have his eyes dilated. I'm hoping that won't be necessary this evening.

Dear God, please let this be a temporary problem with no greater negative implications.

Thursday, January 3, 2008

"You wake me up so nicely"

For the past two days - and earlier before his school closed for the Christmas holidays - my son has been insisting that I wake him up.

Normally, I'm in the kitchen, frantically trying to finish the cooking before I can give him a bath and get him ready for school. So it's my husband - who has been on a sabbatical for over a year - who wakes him up and packs the little fellow off to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Besides, Papa's always been his favorite because Papa's not as strict as I am. And I tend to yell when we're running behind schedule. In fact, the biggest fights my husband and I have had have been over my strictness and getting our son ready for school on time. Things got so bad that my husband told me point blank: "Whenever you wake him up, you make him cry. So leave him to me!" (Talk about making sweeping statements!! Grrr....) So that's what I did. And after that, I've been accused of "drifting away" from the two of them by "trying too hard" - whatever that last bit means. But that's another story.

Waking him up means I lose 5-10 minutes from a very tight schedule but it's always a pleasure so I look forward to it. I hug him, I cuddle him, tease him, play little games, talk about whatever he wants to talk about and then he's up and about. Getting him to brush his teeth is a different matter altogether, but at least I get him out of bed soon enough.

His bath is also a rushed affair. Today, there was no hot water because the geyser was accidentally switched off. So I gave him a really quick hose down with the hair & body wash I reserve to shampoo his hair. I was cleaning his neck when he suddenly asked me: "Mamma, why do you wake me up so nicely?" For a second, I didn't get what he was saying. So I said, "That's how little children need to be woken up. How else can you wake up a child?"

"Well, every day it's 'wake up, wake up, wake up,' that's all," replied the little tyke with a matter-of-fact look on his face.

My heart went out to him. And I felt guilty. I really should have continued waking him up that way. I'm so busy in the kitchen that I have no idea how he's woken up every day. After all, almost a year had passed since those terrible early morning fights. And the little fellow was growing up, becoming more aware.

I gave him a quick peck on the cheek and told him not to worry, I would wake him up like that every day if he wanted. "Yes, I'd like you to wake me up," he said solemnly.

The sad part is, I can't do it on my own, not without risking those when-you-wake-him-up-you-make-him-cry accusations. So I'm going to wait for him to ask for me. This morning, too, I could sense the anger in my husband when he told me that the little monkey had asked for me. When I took around 3 minutes to just wrap up a few things on the stove, he came back: "What happened? Isn't he waking up?" I told him I hadn't gone yet and he stalked off to Orkut some more.

For all I know, it's a passing phase and the next time we're short of time, the little angel will throw a tantrum and say that I make him cry all the time. It's his favourite emotional blackmail weapon! But for now, my day is made! And I owe it to the little rascal. Once again, thank you, sweetheart!

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

Scared of Scarring

After the good news about my son's eye condition (see earlier posts) comes the list of things we need to look out for. The doctor hasn't said anything. Doctors will usually tell you not to worry yourself with what you read on the Web (and this is sane advice most of the time) but in the case of something like Coates, we really need to be extra-careful.

I'm told the very nature of cryopexy involves scarring, which interferes with vision. I haven't mustered the courage to go get my son's vision checked again. In his case, the leakage was in the periphery of the retina so I'm hoping that any scarring there will also not affect his vision too much. But it is something that could develop and worsen over time. I keep checking the vision in his Coates eye by keeping the other one covered. But I also think he's too young (going to be six later this month) to be able to articulate minor differences. If I keep doing it too often, he'll simply protest. Have got to make that trip to the eye doctor.

It's ironic how scarring that can't even be seen fills me with such dread. Nearly 12 years ago, I was recommended surgery on my left knee to keep my kneecap in place. (It painfully dislocated and relocated itself quite regularly. Apparently, all the joints on the left-hand side of my body are loose!) The doctor at a prominent hospital preferred arthroscopy - keyhole surgery - that would leave me with only a few tiny scars around my knee. The only problem was, the procedure gave me only a 70% chance of the dislocation not happening again. I had visions of dislocating my knee while getting off the rickety buses I used and getting crushed underneath its massive wheels.

I asked for something more permanent and he said there was another procedure available, but that would leave me with a long scar on my leg. "At your age (I was 22 then) you don't want something like that," he advised.

To hell with the scar, I wanted something that worked. So we found a better doctor and now I have a 2-inch screw inside my leg and a 9-inch vertical scar that starts three inches below my knee and goes all the way up. It's never been a bother and I don't care if people catch an occasional glimpse of it. It's plain ugly, but it's been worth it.

Now, there's scarring of another kind to consider. I promised myself I wouldn't "worry" about it. I accept it and i will do what I can and what I have to. Besides, I know the Almighty is watching over my son. :) Without that, we wouldn't have come so far.