Bottoms Out: My baby's growing up...

Ideally, this post ought to go on my Mommy blog. But it is just possible that a few years from now, my son will read it, get awfully embarrassed and throw a teen tantrum. So I think I'll just keep it to myself for now. :-)

A couple of weeks back, my son decided that he was all grown up ("I'm six years old, Mamma!") and therefore, I could not see him unless he was appropriately clothed. Ahem.

Now, here's a warning for my global readers before they read further: we still do many things differently in India, irrespective of how rich or poor we are. Toilet paper is still meant for expensive hotels and bathtubs are found only in the households of the rich. The rest of us make do with a bucket and plastic mug. So some of the stuff that follows may seem weird/old-fashioned/backward/whatever....just remember, I did warn you.

"So who's going to wash your bum after you go potty?" I dared him.
"I am!"
"Really? And how are you going to know whether you've done it correctly?"
"I'll check in the mirror!" (Before you start scratching your head, here's what he's done a couple of times in the past. He'll finish his job, clean up, run to the full length mirror, double over and check whether he's cleaned up right. To his credit, he always has.)

"Okay, and what about your bath every morning before you go to school?"
"I bathe myself on weekends, anyway!" he retorted.
"Yes, but you take half an hour and even then miss cleaning your back and behind your ears..."
"Mamma, pleee-ase! I'll learn that, too."
"It's cold in the mornings and I give you a bath in five minutes. How are you going to manage that? You'll catch a chill."
"I can do it," he insisted.
"But..."
"You just want to see my bottom, don't you?" he said, eyes flashing triumphantly.

I was lost for words. He had a point. I love my baby's bottom. Who has kids and then doesn't love their baby's bottom? It's soft and bouncy and just so...baby-like. It gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling. That's why you get to see one in every commercial for a baby product: from diapers, to soap, to lotion and creme and talcum powder.

And hey, this is the kid who saw a TV commercial a few months back - showing a baby's bottom bounce - and wistfully asked his grandmother: "Is my bottom still that soft and bouncy?" When she replied that it was - because she takes real good care of him while I'm at work - he couldn't believe his luck!

"Well? That's it, isn't it?" he declared, pulling me away from my day dreams.

"Yes, it is. You're my baby. And I don't want you to fall sick by spending too much time in the bathroom early in the morning. In June, you'll go into the first grade and leave an hour earlier..."

"I'm not a baby! I'm SIX YEARS OLD."

"But..."

"Okay, you can give me a bath on one condition," he said. Ah, he's come round, I thought. No such luck. "You can give me a bath if you keep your eyes closed."

Right...erm...okay...Okay? Now how am I supposed to give him a bath with my eyes closed? "What if I get soap in your eyes?"

"I knew it. You just want to see my bum," he said and stalked off.

Yes, you lovable little brat. I'm your mother! I want to see your bum and nuzzle your tummy and hang on to your baby days for as long as I can. I can't believe you're growing up so fast and it scares me like nothing else.

Soon, you'll have birds-and-bees talks with your father, try out your first razor, get your first real girlfriend...so yes, I'd like to enjoy your baby days - and your soft and bouncy bottom - while I can. And this is why I have the right:

* You've pooped in my hands, peed on my lap, thrown up in my face and I didn't get grossed out by any of that.
* I may not be the most cootchi-coo mom on the planet, but I'm still your mother.
* You still can't go to sleep at night if you don't hold my face, or hang on to my arm.
* You still want me to tell you bed time story, complete with voices.
* You still howl for me in the morning when Daddy wakes you up and even though you know I have less patience than he does. On most days, anyway.

* You hug and kiss me a dozen times a day and get upset if I can't return the favor immediately.

* You still want me to carry you around early in the morning and whenver else it strikes your fancy.

* You still crawl into my when you wake up and bury your face in my neck for a good 10 minutes before you can be coaxed out of bed.

* You still want me to kiss away your boo-boos.

And you tell me I can't see your bum because you're six years old???




You're growing up. And I'll have to get used to that. Excuse me while I go try...

Photograph from Freerangestock.com. That's not my son, but how I wish I'd taken a picture like that one when he was younger!

My little 'Bose' to lead parade on Sports Day

I heard my cellphone buzz at the office this afternoon. "Hello?" I whispered, wondering who the unfamiliar number belonged to.
"Are you .....'s mother?" enquired a voice steeped in military authority.
"Yes, Ma'am," I replied and stood up automatically. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"This is the Kindergarten co-ordinator from your son's school," she introduced herself.
I knew the woman well, and now, having heard her on the phone, it became clear how she managed a few hundred boisterous kids without losing her sanity. I stood up, remember?

"We have chosen your son to lead the marching parade for the Kindergarten sports meet on Saturday." Oh wow, I thought. But there was more to come. "You need to hire a Subhash Chandra Bose costume for him from Sujay Stores in Shrinagar tomorrow afternoon after school. Do you know where it is?"
"Um, no..."
"Well, first you need to go to..." she rattled off the directions and finished by telling me I had to pack one set of the school uniform because my son was also taking part in the relay as well.

Ah yes, the relay. He had declared earlier in the week that he was glad he was in the relay and not in the Cinderella race. "What's that?" I asked him.
"You have to run to your 'girl partner' and help her put on a shoe and then hold hands and run to the finish line. Yuck!"
"Which part is yuck?" I asked again.
"Who wants to hold a girl's shoe? And the girls take sooooo long to put it on. So even if the boys run fast, we may not win."
Hmmm...right. "It's about winning together," I said.
"It's a race, Mamma. It's winning. And we win together in the relay too," he declared with a confidence that amazed me.

He had a point. Reminded me of the time when he wanted to shave his head to look like an authentic Mahatma Gandhi at the fancy dress competition. I'd told him he might regret shaving off his head just to look like the real Gandhi just for a couple of hours. "What's regret?" he'd asked. What indeed!

All the best, kiddo. :-)

The illusion fades once more

DH was back from his business trip on Sunday and for the next 24 hours, we got along. We actually got along. Simple conversations, smooth management of potentially-disastrous tantrums, cleaning the house...

Yesterday evening, the illusion shattered. I mentioned the trouble at my office in my last post. But I never expected DH to react to it the way he did. For starters, he looked like someone had hit him in the gut. And then he said I ought to quit right away instead of risking getting fired. Hello? Where did that come from? Here I am, trying to balance a thousand things good and bad (a lot of it bad) and trying to stay happy, or at least contended, and he looks like someone died! What's more, it's not even like he's never been handed the pink slip so it was the shock. (Er...did I mention, DH, that I do have a job and a lot of the fears stem from uncertainty at the firm so there's little I can do about that?)

He stayed morose for a couple of more hours, heightening my own anxiety. Then, I remembered my shrink's words and pulled myself together. Que sera sera. I'll cross the rickety bridge when it comes. Fortunately, DH logged into LinkedIn and proceeded to go berserk. I thought I was overdoing it, but I only have 30 connections built up over the past 6 months. He started two weeks back and crossed 100 yesterday. It's the whole Orkut thing all over again. Bad deja vu. But I digress.

His negative overreaction to the whole 'something-like-this-MIGHT-happen' scenario was bewildering at first, and rubbed off on me for a while. Then it was plain annoying. He knows his brainwashing works with the whole world and their uncle, but not with me. So why bother? Besides, this is MY career, good or bad or worse, but it is mine. Eventually, it just seemed silly the way he reacted and I was able to dismiss the whole thing and get along with life.

One little tinge of sadness remained: that illusion that we could actually get along for a while - like a regular couple - without something spoiling it, had broken. I know he can't handle stress very well. I know he's insecure. But just seeing the evidence of that brought a lot of weird feelings to the surface. Feelings I do not want to deal with because I don't know how to and whatever I do won't work unless he co-operates. So I have no choice but to leave it on the backburner for now. Ah well, there are other blessings life has to offer.

Excuse me, folks. I have a list to make...

At the office: A disturbance in the force

Well, we finally found a key resource to fill a position that's been vacant for the past 4 months. This person will join only in around 6 weeks.

The good news is that I will have less work once the person joins us. The bad news is, I may just be losing my USP in this firm. I've been trying to quit for a while now, but there isn't anything great on the horizon. Besides, it's almost the end of the financial year here in India, so there isn't much hiring going on at senior/mid-senior levels. So things are a bit fluid. Had this happened a year ago (and it almost did) I'd have been falling apart, worrying about 'the future.' I've learnt now how to tell myself that if I can't change something, there's no point in making it an issue that clouds my present.

Plus, someone else is getting fired at the office. Although I have arranged for alternate employment for this person, I can't be sure how things will go.

The uncertainty is part of urban human existence in the 21st century. Call it a side-effect of globalization. The world gets more competitive and you have to come up with ways to advertise and promote your skills even if they're not good. I've never been good at promoting myself although everybody tells me my skills are great. In fact, I suck at the whole self-PR gig. So how am I going to get out there and prove myself? Frankly, I have no idea. But I'm damned if I don't try.

So far, my life has been all about whatever-happens-happens-for-the-best (even if it takes a couple of years for the "best" to show up.) So it will be interesting to see how things pan out. Watch this space.

Paradigm shift in personal fashion

I wore trousers to the office today! Black with pinstripes and teamed with a tunic and scarf. From all the compliments I got, I believe I accessorized correctly. (Ahem, ahem...patting myself on the back, there...and no, I didn't wear red stilletos...the pic just looked yummy enough to post!)

So why is this a big deal, you wonder? Well, because it's the first time I've ever worn trousers in a looooo-ooong time. And boy, was I nervous! But it seems to have gone down well. Phew!

When I was growing up, my father thought trousers were unfeminine and unbecoming for women. (Don't comment on that...it's a long story.) Besides, I was (and still am) fat, so I thought I looked better in skirts and that safe harbor of Indian fashion: salwar-kameez suits.

I had two pairs of trousers when I was around 4-5 years old. Then Mum got me a tailored denim jean-and-jacket set for my sixth birthday and after that, I had a pair of slacks as part of my winter school uniform in the fifth grade. (They changed the uniform the following year.) That was it, until 1999. I'd been married a year or so around then and it got really cold (we were in New Delhi then). I needed something like thick jeans for the night shifts I did, and even then, I teamed it up with a knee-length woollen sweater.

I outgrew those jeans after having my son and put on some (okay, a lot) more weight after that. So it's been just salwar-kameez and skirts, mostly long ones. No sarees, even. Mum says I look 10 years older in that outfit so it's a strict no-no. This is especially important because my mother is very pretty, not fat, and looks 10 years younger than she actually is. Oh yes, and she has a great sense of style. :)

Anyway, so here I am, this morning, wearing formal trousers to work. Feeling terribly conscious but what the heck...if I don't start to try to look younger at 34, I might as well call for sackcloth and ashes and begin to mourn my lost youth. Darned if I do that. So here's wishing I find more trousers in my size (and get used to wearing them).

ps: one advantage of wearing trousers is that I walk around with my gut sucked in...maybe my paunch (of course I have one) will shrink that way?

pps: here's what my son had to say after looking me up and down: "Hmm....you're not thin but this makes you look thinner than you are." Why, thank you, my boy. Just don't say that to your girlfriend when you finally get one. :-P

Image from Freerangestock

My first short story in a long time.

Sheila clutched the pack of matches in her hand and looked around - gleaming pots and pans, the latest appliances, a shiny granite kitchen counter and spotless floor tiles. She would miss it all so much. Sheila liked putting meals together and rated herself 7 on a scale of 10. Her friends loved her innovative cuisine. Problem was, her friends dropped in only occasionally. And her family was a different game altogether. She was tired of them telling her what to make and how to make it. The worst came from her husband whose self-professed culinary skills she had yet to experience.

For 13 years she had slaved and tried harder each time he made a "suggestion" which invariably began with "If only you had..." And she did exactly that the next time, waiting for approval which never came. What did come was another round of "If only you had..."

Things had disintegrated in the past week. Nothing had come out well. The new recipes had gone down the drain, literally, and not down anyone's throats, except her own. Her boys were getting almost as belligerent and critical as her husband. That really hurt. She wanted them to respect her. But perhaps her desperate need to be accepted did not exactly inspire respect.

The kerosene had smelt odd on her skin earlier, considering that high-end perfumes were her sole indulgence. But perfumes couldn't do what the kerosene would. And yet, when she opened the box and plucked out a match to end it once and for all, it seemed all wrong. She darted into the bathroom for a quick shower, dumped her clothes in the washing machine, and put away the can...

***

The blaze had died down. The firemen were rolling up their hoses. Sheila's husband stood in front of their house, shell-shocked at the scene. "I don't know how the gas could have leaked. I'm so sorry," she sobbed. She really was. Sheila had turned that house into a home and given it her all. And got nothing in return.

"It's okay," said her husband. "Thank God the fire brigade came as soon as they did. Or else we could have lost the entire house."

"What will we do now?" she asked, gazing at the remains of her kitchen.

He sighed. "Maybe we could stay with your parents for a couple of months until we can rebuild this part of the house? I hate your mother's cooking, but what can we do?" Sheila looked into his eyes fearfully.

"It's alright," he assured her, patting her shoulder. "Think of it as an extended vacation."

Sheila smiled hesitantly. Bingo.

Note: This is my first attempt at writing fiction in more than a decade. If anybody has any suggestions to improve it, I will be more than grateful. Thank you.

Hootie Cutie!

A dear colleague came to say goodbye to us in the office today. She was one of the first people we'd hired when we got the firm going around two years back. Her baby is 4-1/2 months old and she was due to return to work this month. But then her husband got transfered to another city, so they're leaving. :-( She'd brought her son along to say goodbye and he was hooting the whole time he was here, non-stop. Paused just once to plant a drooly kiss on the shoulder of another colleague who was cuddling him at the time. Lucky girl.

He also flashed a crinkly-nosed, sparkly-eyed smile at everyone in the office who was wearing glasses. Hooting all the while, of course. His dad wears glasses and he brightens up when his dad comes home. So he unabashedly favors people who wear glasses. Now here's the flip side to the story: his dad has been out of town for 3 days so the baby's stopped recognizing him! Won't go into his arms either. But he's still making cute faces at people who wear glasses! Inexplicable, but that's babies for you. :-)

His hooting is still ringing in my ears, hours after he left. We'll miss you both. After all, we've known the kid since before he was born: through the morning sickness, the giddyness, the backaches, and the anxious wait when the due dates got mixed up. But that's a different story. Have a happy life, dears. We hope to see you soon.

Thank you, Mamma, for my life, for everything

This is just to say thank you to my mother for all that she's done for me, and for my son. I guess everybody feels the same way about their mother, but I know that my life would be worth a lot less if my mother wasn't a part of it. She has helped me through the worst times of my life even when she was fighting battles of her own. Her courage, endurance, and patience are awe-inspiring. If I can ever become half the person she is, life would have been worth living.

A colleague sent me the link to this video, and although I rarely ever check out YouTube, this one proved to be more than worth the time spent. And made me wish I had a daughter too. What is it they say? 'A son is a son till he finds a wife. A daughter is a daughter for life.' But well, my son is six and I don't think I'm having any more children. Sigh.

This is for you, Mamma. Thank you for making me who I am. I wish I could be a better daughter. I'll try, though.




Artist: Jamie O'Neal
Song: Somebody's Hero

I am going crazy on LinkedIn

That's it. I've gone just loony on LinkedIn trying to expand my network. I'm on Orkut, but hate it - something to do with the fact that I'm over 30, my husband is an Orkut-addict, and the fact that it seems really juvenile! Now LinkedIn shows promise for the simple reason that I'm trying to change my job and I'm hoping something will happen through an extended network. Problem is, I don't really have the time to nurture a network, so it's a lot of stop-and-start.

I blame my altered brain chemistry - from the migraines. I have no idea if migraines alter brain chemistry, but I would bet my favorite pair of shoes that they do! Coz I've been behaving slightly uncharacteristically since the migraines behind - my wicked wit has returned in full force, for one.

Then I'm also seriously considering going back to working from home. My son has turned into a serious cry-baby and needs a good spanking (hello, altered brain chemistry, remember?) He finished his homework this morning - five minutes before his schoolbus arrived! This happened after he told us it was sports day at the school. Now that seemed unlikely because the school ALWAYS sends us a circular on such things. But the little brat was adamant it was this morning and that's why he didn't need to finish the extra homework last night. (He's still catching up as he missed a week in school in January.) This morning, I phoned the school and got a confirmation that there was no sports day happening today, so I had to cajole and threaten him to get him to hold a pencil. After which he bawled, howled and brought the house down. DH, of course, said it didn't matter if he didn't do it within a day IN.FRONT.OF.THE.KID. Disaster. I would have none of it and embarked on another round of cajoling, threatening, etc.

Anyway, I managed to get kiddo to finish his homework and bundled him into the school bus on time. And fumed all the way to work. Sigh! I plead guilty to the inability to let things go!!

So where was I? Oh yes, getting another job or quitting this one and starting to work from home again. At least I'd be writing again. Professionally. I miss that a lot. But finding clients (although I never had a shortage) is a pain and I'm hoping to find different work to do from home this time around. Move up in life somewhat. Suggestions, anyone?

Missing My Privacy (aka Now you know why I am seeing a shrink)

There's been this terrible unease for the past few weeks. It hangs over me like a gray cloud, dark and heavy and untouchable. And I haven't been able to identify it. At first I thought it was the whole family illness thing. But then it hit me today. I'm missing my phone conversations. The ones I used to have on the commute to and from work. I now travel with the DH (he went back to work around a month ago) so I make only those calls which are "okay" - you know, telling my mum we've left and should be getting home by such-and-such time, etc.

No more conversations with Mum or my friends, because I don't feel free to talk with him around. (You guessed it, we are going through some tough times.) And I want to run away when he starts on his mindless philosophy - his weird, unbearable, and inexplicable obsession with making lists, listing trivia, and triviliazing everything and yakking endlessly about something completely nonsensiscal. This is the same guy who refuses to have a mature discussion about the issues that are staring our marriage on the face. And so the pile under the carpet gets bigger. He doesn't care, of course, coz he's not doing the housework.

Anyway, so that's what it is. I miss that time I had all to myself when I could talk in anonymity and catch up with the rest of my world. If it took me two weeks to figure that out, is it any surprise that I'm seeing a shrink? Gotta find an outlet for this pent up stuff.

Suggestions, anyone?

Just for the record, I'm not one of those women who spends hours on the phone. I just like to stay in touch with people who I don't cook for and clean for and care for on a daily basis. Know what I mean?

Footprints on the sands of time

Just came across the video of one of my favorite songs ever: Mausam Beeta Jaye from Bimal Roy's Do Bigha Zameen. Pretty tough to get just the video of the song. This one's from AOL. I'd never buy the DVD of the movie for the simple reason that I cannot sit through the heart rending tale again. But what a movie it is, a few cliches notwithstanding. Besides, this was a turning point in Indian cinema, and much of what might seem cliched was new then!

These are my favorite lines:
Dharti kahe pukaar ke, beej bichcha le pyar ke
Mausam beeta jaye, mausam beeta jaye
Apni kahani chhod ja, kuch toh nishani chhod ja
Kaun kahe is or tu phir aaye na aaye
Mausam beeta jaye, mausam beeta jaye

Here's a tentative translation for those who might wonder what the fuss is about. (I'm no translator, let alone a poetic one, so please pardon the clumsiness).

The earth calls out to us to plant seeds of love
The seasons are changing all the time
Leave behind your story, make a mark in the world
Who knows whether you will come this way again
The seasons are changing all the time

The song was written by that genius of a poet, Shailendra, while the music came from the writer of the story, Salil Chaudhury. The voices are those of Manna Dey and Lata Mangeshkar.

Reminds me of lines from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem, A Psalm of Life:

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime
And departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.

How's that for a little afternoon inspiration?

OMG! Migraines again! No, no, no.

I had a severe migraine problem in college, which went away on its own. It's been over a decade since I finished college and although I've had the occasional mild attack, it's never been as bad as last night. I'd had a headache since the afternoon and finally popped a pill after dinner. Three hours later, the headache was ten times worse and I couldn't sleep. And I was nauseous. I knew why. I'm seriously sleep-deprived after the family-illness and flood of work at the office and the little brat's mounting tantrums. I guess this was my body's way of saying: Enough!

I actually rubbed Vicks (meant for colds) all over my forehead to force my eyes shut and finally dozed off around 3 am. This morning, I awoke early, at 6 am, even before my alarm rang. But everything was a haze. I somehow managed to get through the morning routine. Halfway to office, the headache hit me like a bolt of lightning - out of the blue. By the time I reached office, I was nauseous again and just about to talk. One Brufen 400 (yeah, it's still legally available in India) and two glasses of lemon tea later, I felt mildly better. It was so tempting to just take half a day off, go home to an empty house and sleep it off. But I have no leave left and I certainly didn't want to suffer loss of pay.

Go away, migraine! That's an order. I need to be functional again.

Seething!

My last two posts have gone missing. No, I did not delete them! The first one's draft - just half of it - is in the posts list but where's the other one? Grrrrr