Bringing up Kids...

Remember the time when you were told that having kids would change your life? I read somewhere that that statement has been awarded the 'Understatement of a Lifetime Award'. Oh wait! Or is it just that I have been thinking it so much that I have started seeing it written everywhere. Maybe it's just my mind playing tricks on me. But I sure know that there ought to be such an award and that thing about kids and how they 'CHANGE' your lives surely is the most deserving canditate.

Change your life indeed! I think all those people were just being kind to this poor round fat clumsy woman with swollen ankles and constant backpain that was me.  Nobody wants to scare a poor pregnant woman out of her wits. It's not like they can tell you at your most miserable state that it's about to get so much worse that pregnancy will seem like heaven to you.

And I anyway believe that change is a very broad term. For example, it's a 'change' if majority of the books on your library hold list have the word 'kids' or 'babies' in the title.  It is also a 'change' if you are talking to your child in the car when in reality you are driving all alone.  It's a 'change' if you drive with your windows rolled down in the peak of winter just to remind yourself that you are indeed alone in the car!  A 'change' is also when you instinctively pick up the booster seat at the movies when the only people you are with are all adults. A 'change' is also when the first thing you worry about when you wake up is breakfast for the little one and the last thing you worry about before bedtime is breakfast for the little one. Also, hearing a war cry first thing in the morning and last thing at night might fall under this category.  It's 'change' if you are suddenly feeling guilty about going on a romantic dinner date with the man you loved enough to marry. I know! Tell me about THAT! Now 'that' is material enough for another million and a half blog posts, don't you think?

Anyway, the point is that maybe, just maybe, what people actually meant is that kids take control of your life rather than change it. They dictate where you go, what you do, when you eat, when you sleep, how much you eat, how much you sleep, what you say, who you meet, what you cook, when you brush your teeth, when you take a bath... I am stopping here only to be polite to you and to keep my poor little post from  getting an R rating!!!

Global Positioning System...

Oh Please, get serious people!! What is this thing supposed to do anyway? Show you the way? Maybe I should come back another day to finish this blogpost when I get out of the hospital after having my sides sewn because as of now they sure are splitting!

And, could somebody please tell me why I let Mr. M con me into letting him buy this thing?  It wasn't enough that we were willing to kill each other over my 'stuff' and his 'junk', we had to go and add her to the mix. Yeah! It's a 'she' and I think the only reason we still put up with her is because she has enslaved Mr. M by the way she says 'destination'. I can say a lot of words and I can say them pretty well. How come none of those have that kind of effect on him? And all she does is say, "arriving at destination " after I have done all the navigation!

The other day, Ka wasn't well and we were desperately trying to find a pharmacy close to our home. So, after arguing for at least 15 minutes as to where the closest pharmacy was, Mr. M decided to shush me and ask 'her'. It's anybody's guess on how annoyed I was.  As his luck would have it (and much to my delight!), his lady beloved spent what seemed like an eon aquiring satellites :D  After she finally got what she wanted, she started to give directions. And it's funny coz the first 'pharmacy' that she took us to was an open ground with nothing there. From there she then took us on a mini world tour before she got us to the pharmacy I suggested at the very start. But some people never learn their lesson. On our way out, Mr. M did it again. And so did she :) Finally she made up her mind and decided on a left turn. Her wish is his command. So, he risked our lives to take that left. A cop could have scraped our remains off of the road and booked us for reckless driving if not for the alignment of my stars and planets. And after all this movie style driving just to humour her, what does she do in return? She recalculates and she takes us on another mini world tour (in the other direction this time) before Mr. M begs for forgiveness and asks me to navigate. What could I do? I am a mother and I had to give in for the sake of my child.

But there's always a next time. And the next time I will surely avenge him. Maybe I will let her take him to the Indian restaurant in New Mexico instead of the one on 140th Ave NE ;)

War and Peace

Picture this for this is perfect. A hot shower. A foot massage with fragrant lavender foot cream. Starwberry body butter. A wonderful night's sleep, peaceful and dreamless (now that's a rarity!). A warm moist kiss on the forehead and a soft whisper, so soft it feels like the flutter of an angel's wings, and then a delicate hug that wakes me up ever so gently at the break of dawn. Yes, that's how my daughter wakes me up in the morning. What could be more beautiful? What could be more perfect than to see a beautiful angel face with big beautiful eyes staring back at you when you wake up? I feel like I am in heaven...

But... There's always that 'but', isn't there? Ready to pop up at every turn in the road. At the drop of a hat. Now, that little guy can't let things be and leave us alone can he? (sigh!) Anyway, now that Mr. But has decided to show his face, let's not ignore him. Let's start off where we left off...But...I am in for a big surprise! Heaven huh?!? Sure!! Sure as hell!! I have been making a note of this and am now pretty sure that the transformation happens the very second I think 'heaven'. I can almost hear the war cry in sync with the voice in my head saying the word 'heaven'. And from that point on we are at war. There's a war about eating candy and brushing teeth and drinking milk and eating and bathing and getting dressed and packing lunch and wearing socks and wearing shoes and getting to the car and being first in everything we do and so on...

Call me crazy but come to think of it, I would fight the battle a million times because it always always ends in a goodnight kiss and a visit from the angel at the break of dawn :) 

Why a mother's job is the toughest...

I am a mother to a 4 year old and I can't help but think everyday of my life that whoever coined the terms 'terrible twos', 'troublesome threes', 'fearsome fours' and beyond knew exactly what they were talking about :) And needless to say, I dread the 'frightening fives' lurking around the corner.
Here's what I feel. A mother's job is the toughest because unlike any other job, mommies cannot give up. Mommies cannot give up and mommies cannot screw up. We do not get a second chance. We cannot go back and fix 'it'. Ever. We cannot undo whatever's been done. And when I look at all the people I have met and known in my life, there are really very few I would wish my kid to be like. There are frighteningly few that I think of as well-balanced, sensible human beings. That in itself is a challenge. To bring up a well-balanced, sensible, good human being :) Those hand-full of people have had me set my standards way up there and I am struggling to get there.
But, what makes the job tougher, more challenging are the people around you. Your family. Your friends. Other mommies. Society in general.
Here's what I believe. Contrary to what most people say, mommies don't instinctively know what to do unless it is a question of survival. But for everything other than survival, gone are the days when society had faith in a mother's instinct. We humans have come a long ways from there. We know too much. We want too much. We think too much. We worry too much. We analyse too much. We have disconnected from nature too much. And, society, very conveniently, left mommies out of the deal. I say, if mothers are expected to know everything about bringing up kids, fathers should be expected to go out into the jungle and hunt for food the good old way.
I hate it that society puts me up on a pedestal, says,"Oh! Don't worry. It will all come naturally to you. Just follow your instincts", and assumes the right to judge me every minute of the day. I hate it that I am not allowed to be human anymore. I am not allowed to get stressed, frustrated, sad, angry, or clueless about anything pertaining to my child.
How do i follow my instincts in today's world? What are instincts anyway? I don't think I have many left. My instincts are obscured by the information I am fed on a daily basis about bringing up kids. My instincts are lost in the deafening babel of voices telling me what to do and how to feel and how to react.
STOP IT people!! Just stop it! No matter what I say or do or feel, I love my daughter more than I love myself. None of you is ever going to be able to match up to me on that one. So, if you could please stay out of it, she and I can figure things out for ourselves. We might look lost at times, but don't worry! we will find our way.

H+M=D

Yay!! We did it! We are both still alive. Neither of us stabbed or poisoned the other. Neither of us are in jail. Our daughter is not up for adoption. And that's a great achievement. Believe me when I say, this is not how bright and promising things looked about a week or so ago.
I am sure you are dying to know what exactly happened a week ago. Well...we moved. Yeah! Our lease ended and we moved to another house 15 minutes away. At this point if you are asking,"So?" then you don't have the faintest idea of what 'H+M=D' means. In fact go on and add a baby h to the equation. Let's make it [H+h]+M=dD as in double Disaster. Now for those of you who still don't get it, let me explain. I am a hoarder (H) and my 4 year old has, let's say, taken after me (h). Life's great. We hoard to our heart's content everything we lay our eyes on and we do art projects together. Ok! we think of art projects together which we almost never end up doing (almost being a very important keyword here). And we have a great time collecting fall leaves and pebbles and shells and all kinds of wonderful things and dreaming. And then comes along Mr. Minimalist (M) and discovers all our secret stash. Now, he might think it's all junk but we all know he can't do anything but code!! People like Mr. M have no clue what they are talking about. And we don't, as a rule, listen to people who can do nothing but code. So, anyway H and h did the only logical thing they could do (this was one of the rare ocassions when H and h were trying their hand at 'logic'). They ignored M and packed all their treasures for their future art projects. Now came the time to load all those priceless treasures into the car and the man of the house was hailed. Unfortunately, the man and M are the same person. Believe it or not, this time around he actually mustered up enough courage to call our stuff JUNK!!!! Can you believe that? That was it. I wasn't about to take anymore of these wicked comments from the coder. At this point there could have been a war like scenario if it were not for me and my presense of mind :) The most important thing that M seemed to have overlooked and what I took advantage of is that I am a woman. I have mastered the art of producing tears. I know exactly when, how, where, and how much. And I did just that. What can I say? I hate to toot my horn but I am smart and I won!

And people get married because.....

I can't imagine why on earth anybody ever gets married? And I definitely can't imagine why on earth parents get so worried if their kids don't get married 'on time'!!

What do you do if, after six and a half years of being married, you realize that you are married to the wrong guy? Not a bad guy. Just the wrong one. Not that you have a right one in mind. But you just know that this is not working. This is not what you wanted. This is not what you signed up for. This is not how you want to live the rest of your life.

One is a minimalist. The other a hoarder. The minimalist is also a loner. The hoarder hoards friends too. The loner is a rational human being. The hoarder a sentimental romantic. The rational one believes strongly in the benefits of being selfish (a philosophy he claims to have gotten from Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged). The sentimental romantic also happens to be a fool that has her worthless little life revolving around her family (unfortunately for her and fortunately for her better half, she hasn't read that book yet!). The selfish one wants to live the life of a bachelor (but I really don't think he knows what he's wishing for!). The fool would love that but truly believes that's not the way it works (for example, does she still have to cook for the bachelor? or wash his clothes? If so, shouldn't she get paid for housekeeping and chauffeuring and for running errands? Because I don't think she would have done all of this and more for free if she was single ;)).

Now some may believe that a 2-way compromise might work. But, the bachelor does not believe he has to compromise on anything just because he got married. Then what do you do? Accept things the way they are and live on. Or find your own life and live it?

I am a housewife...

Not a homemaker or a full-time mom but the good old housewife. I stay at home and do what my grandma and my mom did and I don't feel the need to justify my choice with euphemisms. No, I do not feel less than other women who work. I do not feel greater than them either. Only blessed for not having the compulsion to prove my worth through the bucks I make. Over the 6 years of my married life, I have heard umpteen reasons why I should work. It will give you Independence (from what?), you will not feel worthless (I don't anyway), you will get to make friends (I still can), every woman should have a job (and that would be because...??), it feels good to have your own money (I'm married and hence there will never be any 'my' money), your kids will feel proud of you (so, your job is directly proportionate to how much your kids love you? really? hmmm...interesting!!), you will not lose your individuality (you really ought to look up the meaning of that word in the dictionary if you think it has anything to do with a job...), you will be respected more if you have a job and are financially independent (again, don't agree. I know well educated working women ill-treated by their family and believe it or not, they put up with it), how can you live off your husband's money (now you gotta be kidding me!!)

Interestingly enough, never has a woman ever told me that she works because she likes to. Because she wants to. Just for the heck of it. Not for the independence , not for the money, not for the 'respect', not to fit in, but just like that.

And that's what I want. To work for the heck of it. Like travelling around the world. Or going camel back through the desert. Or, being a housewife. Or watching your kids grow. Or painting. Each of these rides will sure be bumpy and there will be times when you wonder why. But you go on because you want to. Not because you have to.

The Big Girl!

My little girlie is as desperate as can be. For what? To be a big girl :) I was too, at some point in my life and now I am a big girl with responsibilities of a family weighing me down. I am a big girl and I am stressed and anxious and depressed from time to time. Definitely not what I had in mind when I wished for 'big girl'. And now I know why they keep telling you be careful what you wish for!
Now I see my grandma who stopped keeping track of her age long before we could start keeping track of it. Now no one knows how old she is but her children seem to agree on something close to 90. I watch her and I see not much difference between her and my 3 year old girl. They both talk to themselves. They both make up stories, one being imaginative in doing so and the other hallucinative. Both of them cannot fathom the concept of time. For them there's now, yesterday and tomorrow. Yesterday could be anytime from the moment they were born up until now. And tomorrow is anytime after now to eternity. They both bump into things because they are too distracted to see where they are going.
And now I wonder why we so desperately wish to grow up just to go a full circle and meet our end right where we started off but alone !

Pain.......

Today I learnt what pain is. The kind that made me wish that someone had ripped my heart out instead. My little girl was hurt today. Nothing big. Just an 'owiee' that kids get all the time. She fell from the bed and bumped her head hard enough to need two stitches. Most important lesson learnt: 'monkey jumping on the bed' song means nothing to kids. So, getting back to the point, I had to take her to the hospital and they stitched her up under local anaesthesia. Agreed that she would have felt no pain after the anaesthesia but she cried and screamed and writhed nevertheless more out of fear than pain and my heart bled. I felt helpless about not being able to do anything to ease her anxiety and pain and fear. I felt like I was less than I should be.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am not the kind of mommy who wouldn't let my daughter take any risks. In fact I think all the little owiees in life will just make my girl better prepared to face the world. And strangely enough, my daughter has always been the most cautious child I have ever seen. It broke my heart to think that the first time in her life that she actually acted like a child, she was punished in a rather painful way. I just wish she would get over this fear soon and be a child again.

Kids, Oh! kids

What is it about kids that keeps us from putting them up for adoption and getting our life back? :) After I had my daughter, it's as if I have ceased to exist. My life isn't mine. Nothing is mine. Time. Space. Energy. Nothing.

And as I have come to realize the hard way, I am not the only mother who feels that way. What, then, is it that makes it worth the while? Is it the delicate kiss loaded with spit that is laid on my forehead when I sleep my worn-out sleep? Or is it the little soft hands that press my head a couple of times when it's splitting with a migraine in the hope of fixing it? Is it the naive heart that truly believes in the kiss it and fix it way of making owiees go away? Is it the soft whisper that tells me I am loved when I need it the most? Is it the feeling that washes over me every time those tiny hands wrap around my neck and 'crush' me in a bear hug? Is it the peace that I feel when I watch her smile in her sleep? Is it the innocence in her voice that asks me a million times during a one-hour flight if she is troubling me and if I am finding it difficult to 'mangage' ? Or is it the absolute earnestness in her face when she says,"Oh! We are just going to drive to Cochin, not fly?" because the plane taxies for a little longer than usual :)

Musings...

• Have you ever noticed that the longer you stare into the distance, the farther you can see. Like when I sit and stare at the sky. Now, that is something I could do for hours. Just sit and stare at the sky. Without a care in the world. The only time when I am free of thoughts. Free of worries. Free of todo lists. And as I stare, it feels like the sky is expanding. As if it were opening out its arms to embrace me, to engulf me in its quiet and peace and power and beauty and immensity. To free me from me.
• Have you ever noticed that men never want to grow up? Is it just coincidence or is there a connection between men never growing up and men never having much to complain about except work and wife?

The joy of dancing...

I love dancing. I know this is the billionth time I am saying that but I truly love dancing. Just the sound of music and watching someone dance moves me to tears. And every time I watch someone dance, my love for it only grows multi fold.

The person that I am, once that realisation has come to me, I have to figure out why. Or at least think about the 'why' part of it. So, I thought about it. And I think I have an answer. At least part of an answer.

Now there is the regular stuff of dance giving me wings and setting me free. And it takes me to another world and how this is the only thing that I do for myself. This is the only time I get for myself, a time where nothing else matters. But I think what I love the most about dancing is the pure joy of it. Not the kind of joy you get from believing that you are adding value to a system. Not the dependent variety of joy but the kind of joy you get from doing something that has no purpose in life. I don't dance for a purpose. I don't dance for a reason. I just dance. The same as I just stare at the sky or the mountain. Or listen to the water tumbling down stream. Or listening to the birds chirping. There is a quality to purposelessness that goes unmatched.

Trying to sleep...

I worry. I am the kind of person who spends sleepless nights worrying about having forgotten to buy a loaf of bread. I am a wanderer at heart. My mind cannot sit still for more than one billionth of a billionth of a second. I think too much. Way too much. In fact so 'too much' that I can't sleep at night.
So, last night, in an effort to help me get a decent night's sleep, my sweet dear husband tried training me on some fail-proof methods of falling and staying asleep. He said,"think of nothing before you sleep." Right. That shouldn't be too difficult. So, I close my eyes and I think of nothing. But then, I have a genuine problem. I think visually. So, when I need to think of nothing, I try to visualise nothing, which ends up being something (read as the big bang and the universe and so forth and so on )......and I flipped out! Hubby dear understood. He said," let's try something else. How about a candle?" Hmm...that seems perfectly harmless. So, I thought about a candle. If you know me, you would also have guessed by now that a candle was a bigger problem than nothing. Now, I was thinking about all the scented candles I have stuffed in every drawer in my house and how I haven't used them in weeks. And the next thing I know, there's a darned mile-long todo list reeling through my mind , somewhat like a bill from a big, expensive store right after you have gone on an impulsive shopping spree. The kind of bill that seems endless and the machine just can't stop spitting out. The kind of bill that makes you wonder if you might have to starve for the next few years in order for you to revert to a normal, financially healthy lifestyle. Anyway, now I am sitting there with a pen and a wad of post-it jotting down every small little thing I need to do the next day including things like 'brush your teeth' and 'cook' and 'look for houses on craigslist'. Just in case you are starting to think that the last one seems important and makes sense, our lease doesn't end till November. Anyway, we moved on to the next thing which I think was to focus on my breath. But before that I did consider, for a fleeting moment, staring at the smoke detector. I realised even before I finished saying 's-m-o-k-e-d-e-t-e-c-t-o-r' in my head that that would be a mistake of gargantuan proportions. I would, very innocently, start with staring at the smoke detector and here's how my thoughts would flow. Smoke detector-fire alarm-previous apartment-burnt rotis-cooking experiments from childhood-other kitchen experiments from childhood-big brother and our candle making episode-wax melting in a double boiler- wax caught fire-other mischief-stealing dad's scooter- driving without license-crashing dad's scooter in the garage-his life-my life-our life-a compulsive need to call him right then and there and there's no end to the memories right? That would be the recipe you would use if you did not want to sleep. Definitely not a good idea when you are desperately trying to fall asleep. Anyway, getting back to the point, focussing on my breath turned out to be a good idea because even though my thoughts did wander from breath to lungs-oxygen-blood-heart-brain etc., at least it was contained in a finite space that is the human body, and my lack of knowledge about the way the body works sure did help ;)

Motherhood...

Imagine you are working on something really fun. Having a wonderful time. Right then, a well wisher, who thinks you might be hungry, finds you and offers you food. You don't want to eat. You might be starting to feel a little hungry. But you want to finish doing whatever fun stuff you are doing. You don't want to leave it half-way for some mundane routine like eating. The well wisher says it's been a while since your last meal and that it's time to eat. You politely refuse but she doesn't want to take no for an answer and she persists. You refuse yet another time and she goes away. You get back to having fun and in 5 minutes she's back with a bowl of food. She tries to feed you. You refuse, a little irritated this time. Now, she totally ignores you and tries to shove a spoonful of food in your mouth. You turn away and start running. You really DON'T want to eat. Why can't this woman just leave you alone?? Anyway, she starts chasing you around the house with a bowl of food and when she learns that she can never match your energy levels, she grabs you, stuffs you in a chair and 'secures' you. And there she goes again, trying to stuff food down your throat!

I always wonder why we don't trust our children to have the basic survival instinct of eating when they are hungry or when they feel like it. It's not like our kids will starve themselves to death just to spite us. I have not studied animals in their natural habitat, but from all the reading and video-watching, I never came across a single species (except the human mother) that chases it's off spring to the ends of the world with a bowl of food!

Why can't we, who teach our kids that a no means no, take no for an answer? Why can't we respect the child's wish to choose an activity over food? Why can't we understand that our children are human too. Haven't we all skipped meals for things that meant more to us at a moment in time? I have and I let my child too....

We the hoarders

Hoarders!  We are a funny bunch. Nope. That's not the royal we. It's just an expression of hope that others like me exist. That I am not alone. And why do I think we are a funny bunch? Because we manage to complicate our lives with things that are meant to simplify it and bring joy and peace. We hoard passions!! Can you believe that? That's right. Hoard passions!! I have these bazzilion things I feel the need to learn and do and I have absolutely no idea where to start. So, what do I do?? Well....what I do is drift around aimless and rudderless like a dandellion and land in some random place the wind happens to drop me. But again, nothing in my world is permanent. Not even my passions. So when I have barely started to explore the whole new world I have just landed in, I start to dream of and long for other new experiences and adventures and needless to say I am on my way there even before I know it. And once I am on my way, I long to go back where I came from and explore some more. But then I am already curious about the place I am going to......and this helplessness leads to stress and craziness (my husband can vouch for that part :))

So, what exactly is it that I love doing? Good question. Maybe this is my chance to figure things out for myself. Let's think about it. Well....hmm....so.....I....err....well....where do I start?! Ok, here you go and this is in no particular order of preference. I love to sew, knit, crochet, embroider. I love to play with clay. I love paper crafts (make my own greeting cards and lamp shades and that kind of stuff you know). I love to dance, I love to sing. I love to play the Violin (but I am no expert, not even close. I just started learning. ). I love to make toys for my daughter, nephew and niece. I love to play with Photoshop. I love Psychology.  I love to write.  I love drawing and painting. I love cooking.  I love photography. 

Now some people might call this creativity and talent but believe me when I say it's a curse. A very sadistic and rude joke. I can't so much as look at a matchstick without an idea pop into my head.  And do I ever get around to working on any of these projects? I have to, at this point, refer you to my very first post and then the third one. There lies the answer to the age old question,"Do I ever follow-up on my ideas".

I'm in love.....

There's been a new development in my life. I am in love. With 'X'. I have known X forever. Enjoyed X's company. X has been a part of my life for a long long time. My parents were always proud of my aquaintence with X. Not something that worried them. They were just happy for me. In fact they wanted me to take the relationship one step further and make a commitment. But I wasn't sure of that. Didn't want to commit to X. I loved Y more. Y was for me. But X has always been there. Stealthily lurking behind. Making sure to be there for me. At all times. And now I am in love with X too. Yeah! 'Too' which means I cannot get over my love with Y. Ever. But I know and believe that X and Y can co-exist. No trouble there....

Ok now people!! Don't start thinking up scandalous thoughts. Let me introduce you to X and Y before you go too far. Or maybe I should let you guess...hints anyone? Here you go. And these hints are a dead giveaway. Oh! BTW, no more grieving and lamenting over not being able to dance. It's just a silly little menescal tear and chondromalacia patella. I should be fit as a fiddle in a matter of months.

Sleeplessness

It's 3:30am. Why am I up? I have a long day ahead and I need the rest. I have a 3 year old to take care of. I need to wake up early in the morning and do what a good wife and mother does. Cook, clean, drive the husband and the daughter to work and school respectively. Sew. Pay bills. Study. Send e-mails about appointments I can't keep because something has come up.

Besides all of these, I have one very important thing to do. I have to chase my dreams. That in itself is a lot of work. Stressful. Especially when you are not even sure which dream to chase. Hard to keep doing when you are getting nowhere with any of them. I don't even know which of my dreams mean anything to me anymore. Like I said earlier, its OK to change one's mind. I think change is good. But there are 3 totally unrelated things in my life that I believe mean a lot to me. I am a dancer with a flare for designing and a very keen interest in Psychology. Life happened and I never got to get good at any of these. Now at 27, after being a housewife for 6 years, with a 3 year old doll for a daughter, here I am, up at 3:30 in the morning, wondering what to do with my life. Tough call. Especially for a person like me.... As of now, I think dancing is ruled out thanks to a busted knee, psychology will take forever and I doubt I have the bandwidth for that. So, I am just left with letting the designing 'bhoot' ride piggy-back on me and I sure do hope, this guy doesn't let go and fall off somewhere along the way.

Well...I guess writing helps. Two paragraphs earlier I was wondering what I was doing up so early. Now I not only know why I am up, but also what I want to do with my life. Wow! That's quite an achievement. Guess I'll just be happy with that for now and leave it at that.

Good(rest of the)night.....

It's OK to change your mind...

A very tiny wooden desk. A comfortable chair with a straight back. A notebook-just plain white sheets of paper. A bottle of turquoise ink. A fountain pen. This is how I would rather write. Where every thought, every emotion is captured. Forever. Where a thought cannot be 'backspaced'. Where I put down everything that I feel at that moment. I can change my mind and strike it off but it does not go away. It's not lost. The fact that I thought that thought remains and is there for me to see. Nothing to be sorry about. Nothing to be hidden. It's just a change of mind. I accept it, let it be and move on. I don't have to make it vanish into thin air as if it was never there. And if I do want to erase a recorded thought, it is a conscious well thought decision where I light a candle and hold the paper to the flame till it is all destroyed and then I get rid of the ashes. Much more complex than hitting a geometrical shape that tries to act like a button of sorts.

I just love the silence of a pen gliding over paper, spilling my thoughts. Without any distractions. Without the mindless chatter of the keyboard. Without the bright light shining in my face, the ads, the 'page layouts', the 'settings', the stress of remembering to 'save' the work. Writing blogs is so stressful for me that I invariably hit the wrong button thingie (whatever they are called) on the screen and lose everything. I hate the fact that I have to go back and type words again because my 'that' is 'taht' and I have 'typred' instead of 'typed'. I would never do that on paper.

So anyway, the point I am getting at is that I thought I would have this blog exclusively for my craft ideas but now I think I will start writing other stuff too (this and that, about life in general) coz I can't bear the thought of maintaining more than 1 blog. And if you hear nothing from my end for too long, that's because I have accidentally deleted something I totally loved and am not on talking terms with my desktop!! Since we have this innate hatred for each other, it takes us a really long time to forgive and forget :)

We, the vagabond minimalists...

Hmmm....so, we are vagabond minimalists. We hop across continents, and when we stay in a place for a few years, we move houses everytime our lease ends. Most people would find that painful but we like it. I know. We are weirdos. Our daughter is a bit confused about this whole process now but since she is a cleaniness freak (why do I say that about a 3 year old? That's got to be a whole new post!!) and the house is a big mess for a month before we move out, the joy and relief on her face when we do finally move into a clean empty house is a sight worth seeing. She thinks we moved because the house got too messy for us to handle :)

Anyway, it all works out in our favour. I get to do a lot of DIY stuff (sewing and artwork and interior decoration using pure unadulterated 'junk'). Hubby dearest gets to get rid of a lot of 'junk' (when I fail in my attempts to emotionally blackmail him to keep) and the little doll gets to redo her room all over again. We all get our way with a little bit of compromise thrown in for some flavor. And we all live happily ever after....ever after being until we move again :)

Anyway, at this point it must be really obvious that we don't own a house. So, I just do DIY projects and come up with ideas for each house based on what we already have there. Of all the houses we have lived in so far, one house had curtains and really heavy ones at that. I wanted to buy some curtain rings to pretty them up but we, as a rule try and address our 'wants' with things lying around the house. So, what did I use for curtain rings? Paper clips. Jumbo ones. With beads at the sharp ends to keep them from snagging the fabric.
Minimalistic and elegant.

Simple things....

We are minimalists...my husband and I. Which means we desperately try not to tread into the cursed forbidden territory of 'wants'. That is not to say that we always succeed. But we try. And we try hard. It goes without saying that my husband is better at it than me coz I am the artist. I see junk (defined as stuff that my husband would throw away in a millionth of a second with no regrets whatsoever) and I get ideas. I collect. I keep. For later......yeah! yeah! It's that same dude who never comes...but I wait and I wait in vain.....

Anyway, I wouldn't say that I never do anything with my ideas. I almost never do anything with them. And then there are those couple of moments here and there when I am overcome by motivation and inspiration and I end up putting some of the teeny tiny ideas to test and this blog is about those rare moments that almost never happen :)

Most of my ideas are original, some are inspired by others on the web, some are just an effortless modification of existing ideas.

So, here I go.....