Irony of a mom’s life

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I saw your eyes droop. You mumbled ‘Mama’ and slept.

I watched you sleep. I don’t know for how long.
The home is quiet. Absolutely quiet. Slowly, I disentangled my fingers from yours, careful not to wake you up.


You have already started sleeping in your room alone, and, to be honest, I don’t like it one bit.


Not one bit.

A lot of these nights, I just go and tuck myself in beside you. I love to hold your hands and sleep next to you. I pull your comforter on me and we sleep like the best buddies ever. I hold you, and you put your hand around my neck.


Let me tell you, as a parent, there is nothing more comforting than the hands of your sleeping little one around your neck. Nothing!

I love it when you hold me and sleep. I love it when you pat me in your sleep asking me to turn towards you.
I love it when we share the same blanket.
I love your smell.


I love it when, suddenly, some mornings, you come over and sleep on my bed curled under my quilt. When I sleepily ask you what happened, you say that you were cold. I hug you tight and we sleep facing each other, your little nostrils breathing warm air down and your tiny chin facing up. I want to hold those moments forever.
It is funny that if you are cold, you can just pull your comforter over yourself, but it is warming to know that you choose to slip in under ours. My eyes open the moment I can hear the silent patter of your feet walking up to our bed.

I can hear you.
In my sleep.


Yes, I can.

And now, now that you are growing up so fast, I feel insecure that these days will never come back. I feel that time is slipping away from my hands, and I’m trying to fist it up.
Harder and tighter. And faster before it slips away.


I notice how big you’ve grown. 5 years already, and I’m scared.
I’m scared that soon, you will not run after me because you will, consciously, be a bigger boy.
I’m scared that soon, you will not talk endlessly to me.
I’m scared that soon, you will not start everything with a screaming ‘Mamaa…’
I’m scared that soon, you will not hug me every time I stretch out my hands to you.
I’m scared that soon, you will not jump on my lap anymore.
I’m scared that soon, you will not curl your hands around my neck and sleep.

Soon.
Very soon.


Am I already feeling what they call the ‘empty nest syndrome,’ just a little early?

I have already realized that life can often be terribly ironical for a parent. Just until a year ago, I was trying to have you do a lot of your own work. That way, you could be independent, and I could also focus on the more mundane things we always strive to finish. Wearing clothes, taking a shower, eating, combing your hair, helping me with my work were few of the things on my to-do list for you. One step at a time, you helped me strike off these items on my list. Each time I struck out a bullet point, my heart both sank and danced. I felt weird.
My heart breaks when I see that you are getting so independent, but at the same time, it is very fulfilling to see your little nimble hands work out things for yourself. It is immensely satisfying to see your little fingers, soft palms, and tiny nails tugging at drawstrings, patiently buttoning a shirt, rubbing soap all over yourself.


While on one hand, I want you to grow up fast, on the other, I want to hold on to your childhood and not let it go! Grow up kid, just not so fast!
While on one hand my selfish mommy heart wants to hold you more and more, on the other hand, I understand how you are bracing yourself up for the times ahead, and how important it is to make you ready for your own life.

That consoles me.
That puts me at ease.
That makes me love you more.
And more.


#sravsquotes

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If you talk to me, you will know that I can be satirical. However, remain informed that satire is one of the most superior forms of humor that can be handled only by geniuses. I’m one of them.

Ok, having beaten all the drums possible about myself (wait, all of them? no, there’s more), I would like to introduce you to Sravsquotes. It is my Facebook page which is a reflection of my satirical and humorous side, and what’s more, it can be biting too! On this page, I put up humorous puns, caustic remarks, and nuggets of satire. Here are some of them:

  1. Don’t you think resolutions mostly gather dust, (rather e-dust) instead of momentum? This one is dedicated to all our resolutions which die a dishonorable death every February.

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2.  Cleaning the house! Aah, this one. Don’t we really clean this way-take things from one corner and keep them in another while feeling gratified that the first corner looks so clean?

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3. This one is so true! Each time I send out an email informing my neighbors that I’m decluttering, essentially, I’m inviting them to come and take my clutter. Only in very polite words.

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Do like and follow my page on Facebook, and share my quotes if they tug at you!  #sravsquotes.

2017 – Resolutions Anyone?

 

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Instead of socks for christmas, I hung my sports shoes this year at my door.

I kept the kid informed that Santa will not come in his traditional red. He will come dressed in an Amazon tee with an Amazon box in his hand. He believed me because the delivery guy actually came in an Amazon tee. I’m happy that the 5-yr old understands satire.

Now:

I smell a new year.

I smell a fresh year.

I smell resolutions.  

Isn’t it that time of the year when we all are checking ourselves, finding out where our sports shoes are? Some of us are almost scavenging the house for the shoes worn exactly a year back. A few better of us are cleaning them and showcasing them and feeling smug about ourselves. A few of us are already telling others how they should start jogging and working out to feel fit. From the new year of course! What were you thinking?

Another set of people are talking and trying to team up with others so that they can start working out from Jan 1.

The whole year is like a doughnut. It is a doughnut of our hopes. All our hopes, especially of working out start on Jan 1, come a full circle and reach the same point when we realize it is the next Jan 1.

The only problem is the hole in the middle of the doughnut. The hopes, the decisions, the resolutions fall through the hole. Often our workout shoes.

Despite us being in our resolutionary best, (that is not a typo), our weight-losing resolutions are like hot-air balloons which disappear in the air even before we can hold them in our hands.

This is what usually happens to my gym resolutions in New Year.

The gym knocks and these are my replies:

On Jan 1 – No way! Are you still drunk?

On Jan 2 – Insane. Not happening.

On Jan 3 – Just getting over the hangover dude. Please hang on to your hopes.

On Jan 4 – I just started feeling fresh.

On Jan 5 – Sounds astronomically pragmatic.

Finally, finally, all in my best spirits, and with around 15 snoozes of the alarm, I wake up, look outside, feel drowsy and kicked at the same time and rush out of bed.

Fresh new sports tees, shorts, shoes, ummm, its a warm feeling right?

I reach the gym, look around curiously but with confidence and talk to the instructor about how my biceps need work. My core needs to be strengthened. My abs need love. He directs me to the nonchalant treadmill.

I walk.

I pump it up. I feel like a hungry dog.

I come down. Drink loads of water.

I look for the exit door when the instructor taps gently to ask ‘Madam, where are you going?’

The last person I would want to meet at this moment.

‘I will be here tomorrow,’ and I rush off.

I walk out. A smug smile of ‘I worked out’ plastered all over my face along with a ‘hah, you belly bag! Look at me’ snigger radiates from my face.

The next day comes, and the alarm needs to snooze around 20 times. Gradually, the alarm gets too tired to snooze constantly, and eventually, stops ringing.

So does my gym routine.

My shoes find a good spot somewhere in my store room.

Au Revoir my Nike until Dec 2017!

#MicroblogMondays: When I am sad

dsc_0181Today has been a particularly hard day for me. I’ve had a bad morning, and therefore,the afternoon also looked bad. Now that the sun has set, and it is getting darker, my heart is feeling a little more sad with the disappearing light.  I think the night monsters will gulp me down tonight.
Everything is almost making me cry. When you are a humorous person, you really can’t be serious. You also can’t be sad. Right? Right. But now, today, everything is almost making me cry. Even my own #sravsquotes. Im reading them and laughing, but Im crying laughing. You know what I mean right. You must have been there.
Someone posted a Chinese Chili Garlic Sauce recipe with a vibrant picture, and that made me sadder than ever because the accompanying rice didn’t look so appealing. I cried again.
Then there are these life and motivational posts and pictures which are wrenching my gut from within. I can’t stand those pics right now when my nose and eyes are welling up.
I need a shoulder. A shoulder.
Not to cry on.
I need a shoulder to wipe my nose on.
Linking it up to Microblog Mondays.

Icecream with a 4 year old

ryanicecreamlr2-1Eating icecream with a four-year old is a hilarious event in itself. However, all my sympathies and empathies lie with the icecream being discussed. The creamy journey of its life turns out to be pretty bad if it falls in the hands of a 3 or a 4 year old. This is what happens.

We buy an icecream. The stick comes out of the icecream wrapper which gets crumpled within a flash of a second, and I hear ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ and slurps of visual satisfaction as the entire icecream makes its grandiose show. Ryan looks at it from all angles trying to decide which is the best bet for the first lick.

Me: ‘Eat it fast. It will melt.’

My words fall just next to where the icecream wrapper was thrown a few seconds back.

After a complete visual survey, Ryan licks it. His eyebrows shoot high. His eyes become wider while his lips spread to his ears on both sides. I hear a never-ending ‘ummmmmmmmmmm’ which makes me take a sly look at the icecream. I find it still holding itself strong.

Somewhere close by, I hear the loud squeak of a squirrel. Ryan’s icecream reverie is almost broken and he looks up at a suspected tree with queer eyes. I notice the white droplet of icecream on his nose. One look at the icecream and I see it drip. One drop falls on the ground. A white circle; radius, circumference, and area undetermined.

That’s the beginning.

It’s starting. It’s starting to melt. It’s starting to melt.

The first tissue comes out of the wad that I bring along for our icecream sojourns. The top of the icecream is the low hanging fruit for him, and he works at it faster. I remind him that the bottom of the stick also needs some attention.

Me: ‘Eat the lower side too. It will melt.’

He looks at the lower side of the icecream. His warm mushy looks melt the lower end which rivers down his right hand, right down to the elbow. Had it been a few decades earlier with the same scene between me and my mom, by now I would have got a resounding whack on my back reminding me to eat it faster.

I am a more patient mother.

More tissues come out from the thinning wad, this time faster, one pulling the other, and the other pulling out more of the others frantically.

Racing against a trickling icecream is a tricky job for a mom. Jumping to my feet, I run to the store next to me and get a paper plate to hold the gathering white puddle. The icecream is in sad danger.

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Soon I realize that the paper plate is not enough to hold the white liquid. It needs depth. I run back to the store and get a paper glass this time. What a strange turn of incidents for the icecream. The unsuspecting big bodied thing gets reduced to a mere colorless puddle that is collected in a paper glass.

Finally, it’s time. The momentous moment when the icecream soup is to be sipped. And it gets sipped.

The icecream. gets. sipped.

Here ends the sad life of an otherwise cool icecream.

Unfortunately, I don’t have a pic of the icecream being sipped because I was too busy wiping my hands off the sticky liquid.

What type of Facebook ‘Liker’ are you?

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There are different kinds of ‘Likers’ on Facebook.  Well, the different kinds cannot really be as neatly arranged in jars and shelves as in the pic above, but, ask me, and I’ll tell you the broad categories of ‘Likers.’
In all good humor, of course all our Facebook friends do fall into any of these categories. They may move from one category to another, but they will remain in one of them.
The major buckets of ‘Likers’ on Facebook are:
1. Loyal Likers – They ‘Like’ everything you post. Or even if you don’t post anything. You eat something and you write about it, they like it. You got constipated and you post about it, they like it. Your pet ant waddled in egg yolk for a whole 29 seconds before drowning in it, and you mention it up here, they like it. They are your true Facebook friends, truest in the real sense of the term, and will be there through your ‘thick & thin’ post days.
2. Reciprocal Likers – Much to your chagrin, yes, they exist. You ‘like’ their posts, photos, videos, etc and etc, and they like yours. You don’t like their updates two times, and they stop too. Try it with a few suspects.  Let me not stir up hornets nests here.
3. Moody Likers – The first of every month, and this category is on a ‘liking’ spree. A good meal, and this category is on another ‘liking’ spree. You got it, right?
4. Lazy Likers – They just hit the ‘like’ button when something catches their eye. They don’t go to the extra ten miles to select a ‘love’ or a ‘wow’ button. Everything they love is a ‘like.’
Oh, and I wanted to mention the ‘Shy Likers’ above, but I didn’t, because I respect the fact that they are shy to declare they like something. A lot of people don’t hit the reaction buttons on my status updates, but they do tell me how much they enjoyed reading something I posted. My take: They don’t like PDA. (Public Display of Affection).

Hi, I am a Stay-at-home mom

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“All day long, I sit at my sunny window, staring at the cerulean sky dotted with real birds and motor-birds. I look at the moms and dads who are forever running to work in their hurried best, and I feel so blessed watching them from my eighteenth floor balcony. All day long. When I’m not looking at the sky, I lounge on the sofa, twirling fresh hand-picked Red Globe grapes in my mouth, watching soaps on the tele and sipping on luxurious teas; the hedonism of my ‘housewifey’ life interspersed with peppery talks with my equally jobless friends about my MIL.”

That’s what I do being a stay-at-home mom.

Thank you for the amazing question, and yes, I do notice the enchanting disbelief in your eyes.

It would be a meaningless cliche if I tell you what the question is.

Stay-at-home mom. A term that a lot of people often use disdainfully while trying to figure out what these moms do the whole day, and while just shrugging them off as housewives who don’t know how to ‘kill’ their time. But that is not what I want to talk about here. The point that I’m trying to make here is that we often overlook the real strong women behind these mom-faces, and how we stereotype them as just ‘women with kids’.

Strangely, and sadly enough, what the world fails to understand is that stay-at-home moms have made a wilful decision of being with their kids at their formative years, a decision that is unparalleled in its own, and a decision that is a product of conscious deliberation and extreme gumption. They have not made a sacrifice. They have chosen to be with their kids wilfully. The sad part is that we often end up putting these women into a nondescript bucket without actually looking at who they are as individuals. We never ask them what they are capable of because we have already written them off. They are perceived as just the bearers and the rearers of babies.

I’ve personally tested two scenarios: the first, in which I’ve introduced myself as a mom only; and the second, in which I’ve mentioned that I’m a budding entrepreneur. The second introduction sparks interest and follow-up questions appear (obviously), but the first introduction dies a natural death at the mention of ‘mom.’ It is true that there is no intention to belittle, but not a single person has ever asked what I did before I became a mom.

Let’s face the truth that being with a mini-me 24/7 is taxing and emotionally draining. We all have been there, and we all have felt isolated at some point in time. On the positive side, this is when moms make friends; at the park, the paediatrician’s, at daycares or at nurseries. During the time when I was a complete SAHM, I’ve made a lot of new friends who are moms; mostly stay-at-home. And what I’ve discovered is that behind a lot of these moms are actual strong identities, strong people, intelligent minds. In the last 4 years, I’ve met mums who have been Professors, Lecturers, Illustrators, Biologists, Language experts, and Artists. It has been fascinating to know such wonderful people from different spectrums of life who have revealed gems of personalities beneath their frizzy uncombed hairs and faces tired with babysitting. However, the same professors, biologists, artists are often quietly put aside as just mothers, with no focus on who are as individuals, or who they have been.

Having said everything above, it is also extremely positive to note that most of today’s SAHM’s have ignored the naysayers and are not letting themselves just be moms. They are fulfilling all their motherly duties, and are actually carving out time to nurture an interest, or a passion, or a business right from their homes. They are still growing as individuals while being moms. That is exactly what can bring about a massive change in the way they are perceived.

The Bangalore Food Truck + Music Festival

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(*In the photo above, I’m merely posing inside a food truck. I’ve not switched professions.*)

We went to the Bangalore Food Truck + Music Festival Edition 4 at Pebble, The Jungle Lounge at the Palace Grounds held on April 3, 2015. I had never been to a Food Truck event, and I’ve always romanticized a food truck fest. When it was so close to home, I couldn’t resist the urge to go to the event.

Food trucks. Huge trucks, some monochromatic, some mottled, and some kaleidoscopic in colors that serve a variety of foods at affordable prices. For this rally, the trucks that participated were Square Ruth, Truckafe, Swat, Le Casse Croute, Waffle Truck, Khan Saheb, Smoke Signal BBQ, As on Fire, and more brands that I missed taking note of. I must say we had quite a variety of cuisines to choose from: Indian, Oriental, Indo-Chinese, French, Mexican and more. There was actually one truck that had a wood fire inside and they cooked amazing pizzas. My bad I didnt take note of the name.

Here are a few pics of the bright trucks.

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We went in pretty early, at around 12:00 pm when some trucks were still setting up. Le Casse Croute seemed to have already tugged at the hearts of people right from the beginning. We were a group of four adults and each one of us got items from a lot of the trucks, and therefore, we tasted a medley of foods. Golden fried crispy honey potatoes, loaded (and I mean really loaded) nachos, wonderful dimsums, amazing wood-fired pizzas, Buffalo wings, Lemon Chicken Thai rice washed down with a sparkling Green Apple drink made us too full to try anything else. We were in the mood for waffles from the Waffle Truck, but we were already satiated beyond capacity.

Of all the trucks that I tried and that looked great, I loved Truckafe. Beautifully painted in red, yellow, orange, blue, and green, the truck was a treat for my eyes. I loved the interior too and the friendly host let me in the truck. I had a long cherished desire to be on the other side of a food truck and cook, and today I did fulfill my wish. I was in the truck, and I tossed and turned some chicken that was being cooked and had my share of fun! It was fascinating to see an entire kitchen in there. The buffalo wings were lip-smacking and the Thai rice was yummy. Here I am inside Truckafe tossing up some Thai chicken.

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Though we had gorged on a lot of delish, we wanted icecreams. And what better than the IceCream Buggy. Our kids relished on the icecreams and so did we.

There were two areas of concern though. First, the entry fee was not mentioned on the Facebook page for the event, and there were no replies when someone asked about the fee. Second, in the entire field of the rally, there was very little/almost no option to get something to drink. Only one truck had beverages and there were not many options. However, we could get water or drinks in Pebble, the lounge inside that was also the host of the event.

Overall, we had a lovely time. We will definitely go for more food truck events to be held. Actually, I spotted some more trucks on the roadside at MG road. I will sure visit that place soon!

I’m also going to put up some videos of the rally. Watch out!

My Larry David Syndrome Day

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Some days are just not for me. Just not.

On these days, it is a lot of pressure on me to smile at humanity. The reason is that a smile is almost always followed by an unmentioned expectation to make small talk. And on such days when the sun doesn’t rise in my horizon, I can’t make small talk. Recursively then, I can’t smile at people.  I don’t want to make small talk, and therefore, I can’t smile. I call it my Larry David Syndrome.

Honestly, I cant go as overboard as Larry does in ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm’ in that particular episode (I forget which one) when he uses his mom’s death as an excuse not to talk to someone, but sorry, yes, I’m bad. Only on some days. Especially mornings.

On such mornings, I prefer the plant kingdom to the animal kingdom.

I don’t want to get into what happens to me on these gloomy days, but you can safely assume that if I’m pricked at on my Larry David Syndrome day, you will find yourself getting tumble-dried. Yes, in the dryer. And post that, I may leave you in there to get some fungus on you.

To get out of this Syndrome, I eat, listen to soothing or ear-blasting music (depending on how scorching the sun is), and spend around 20 minutes at a cafe alone. Why 20 mins, you may ask. Because that is the maximum time I can manage to get for myself on any given day. I do check the kiddos funny pics and those crack me up!

Do you have Larry David Syndrome days too?

 

5 Hilarious/Weird questions for the SAHM

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I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for a tiny, few years now. Though I’ve been true to the nomenclature ‘stay-at-home,’ ( I don’t know where else I would have stayed otherwise), I have been almost as much in a professional domain as any other working mom. It is just that I’ve not really attended meetings in person, or sent out worksheets, or talked to clients, or been to an office office per se, but I’ve constantly remained in mainstream work with the little time I had in hand. Now that I am making a direct foray into work, I looked back and revisited questions asked to me by other moms and some of my friends who have seen just that mommy face of mine. Here they go:

1.’You have a laptop?’ with eyebrows shooting up to the stratosphere. Im too flabbergasted to reply. What is the big deal if I have a laptop?

2.’You use a power bank? For what?’  Oh gosh, this one! What can a power bank do?

3.’Eh, you don’t watch Bigg Boss? But you are at home right?’ I fail to understand the connection between Bigg Boss and my being at home!

4. ‘Whose Macbook was that in your house?’ I reply ‘Mine.’ Pop comes the followup question ‘Yours??!’ The reaction is often surprising to me, and the reason could be that the people who asked me this were Windows users.

5. The master blaster question ‘What do you do the whole day?’ Again a question that doesn’t even deserve a rant. If I were to mention what I do from 5:00 in the morning till 11 in the night,  you would want to run away.

It is fun and weird at the same time to answer questions of such an elevated nature. I have been honored to face such incarnations of curiosity, and I’d love to meet some more! Im sure there are a lot of such questions the SAHM group may have faced. What has been yours?