WYSIWYG…

What you see is what you get! A simple concept that minime lives by! There is no reading between the lines for her. She has this immense faith in what she hears and sees and derives :)

A few months ago Minime called me a 'mad woman'! To my face! And with a lot of conviction. She knew it beyond all doubts and she had to let me know. So, she did and I was, for a second, taken aback. But I quickly reminded myself that she's a 4 year old (waiting desperately to turn 5), and she probably means something else. So, I asked her what she meant. Her logic was perfect. I was a mad woman because I was always getting mad at her and I am a woman! What can I say? Summer vacations can be tough...

A few weeks ago, we were driving around aimlessly (like we often do) when we passed a bus. It turns out that a transit bus with lots of advertisements and a 5 year old who has spent all summer perfecting her reading skills can be a very fun combination. This particular bus had this huge ad across the door for some store, and it read,"open daily from 9am to 7pm". Soon after we passed that bus, my little one chirped from the back seat,"Amma! That bus door is open from 9am to 7pm!"

M spent all summer interviewing (blame it on the travel bug!). Most of these interviews happened from home and the best of lucks and the hugs and kisses had almost become a ritual now. They absolutely had to be done before every informational and every interview. Needless to say, the hugging and kissing and 'best-of-lucking' took anywhere from 5-15 minutes. Once minime was done, Mr. M would lock himself up in, what came to be known as, the interview room. There was this one time when the 'locking self up' happened a tad bit too early and Minime suddenly realised she hadn't wished him luck. She panicked, ran to the door and banged on it like her life depended on it. And then, without waiting for a response, she shouted out to him in the loudest voice possible, "Appa! Best of luck but I can't hug you coz your interview has already started!"

There was this one time when I was talking to my Amma over the phone and we happened to be talking about bringing up girls. At one point I was telling Amma how I constantly worry about protecting my little angel from all kinds of dogs (read perverts)! The very next instant, I hear Minime say, "Oooohhh! I looooooovvvvvvve dogs!"

A couple of days ago, a friend of ours was telling us how bargaining in China works. As always, Minime was listening carefully, trying to absorb every tiny little detail so she could spend the next couple of days asking us questions about shopping in China. Our friend went on to explain the 2 knife bargaining method (yup! They actually have a name for it) where you ask the price to be slashed by a quarter of the quoted price and then when the shopkeeper gives you a counter offer, you cut that down by half. So, for example, if something costs $100, you quote $25. Then they will give you a counter offer of, let's say, $80. Then you agree to pay about $40 and not a penny more! Now Minime thinks we are poverty-stricken because we don't have $100 to pay for whatever it is that we want to buy and so, we have to plead with the shopkeeper to give it to us for less! She goes,"Why Amma? Because we don't have 100 dollars? We have only 40 dollars?".

What can I say? Kids are funny little things!

Peter Pan was right!

So, I kept my promise and I tried really hard.  I came to a screeching halt on every not-so-fun downhill ride. I wore out the soles on many a shoe but it was worth it. So totally worth it.  I dragged myself up that slippery slope of self-pity every single time and while doing so, I sold myself, ever so breathlessly, the idea that life is good! It was hard. Like my first day on the treadmill...breathless and thirsty and dizzy and so tempted to give up after the first 5 minutes inspite of walking at a pace that other veteran gym-goers might find too slow even for a cool down!

Lessons learnt:
1) Life IS good
2) Swimming does help
3) It's NEVER too late to go after your dreams
4) The voice in the head has no idea what it's talking about
5) When it comes to the voice in the head, there is a 'zip-it-and-throw-the-keys-away' button.

And all these revelations later, I feel like Peter Pan.  Never once did I believe that I could fly just by thinking happy thoughts. But now I know. Happy thoughts matter. In fact happy thoughts are all that matters.    

Imperfect is perfect

My little princess turned 5 a couple of days ago and needless to say I spent the day with an indescribable feeling about how fast she was growing. A knot in my stomach that wouldn't go away. It seems like it wasn't long ago when she almost fit in daddy's palm. Daddy used to fondly call her a palmtop :) But as I sat there thinking about how fast time flew by, I also realised how blessed I am to have the family that I have. Now, life's not perfect and the more I think about it, the more I know that it's perfect in not being perfect (if that makes sense).

So, after a whole day of thinking long and hard (as you all know by now, that's one thing I am almost an expert at!) I decided that I am going to try. Try real hard. I am going to try real hard to stay on the sunny side of life. To remind myself every now and then that life is good. As good as it gets with all it's fun ups and not-so-fun downs. It's going to be tough but every time I am on one of those slippery slopes, heading down at break-neck speed on one of those not-so-fun-downhill-rides, I will do all in my power to come to a screeching halt and drag myself uphill again. No matter how out-of-breath I get! So, at the end of those days, when I am more than ready to drop dead with a smile on my face, I will plop myself down on the bed, lie back and tell the petty and silly little voice in my head to zip it! And I will tell it how happy I am with my imperfect life b'coz perfect is boring. Perfect does not exist. And I would rather have 'wonderful'!!

What are mothers for?

Sometimes A lot of times I feel I am the self appointed 'worrier' of the family.  It's funny how, when I look back, I see that ever since I had a baby, I have spent atleast 62% (if not more) of my time worrying about one thing or the other. Another 20% can be accounted for by sleepless nights.  Then there's the 14.75 % for guilt and the remaining 3.25% is reserved for the joys of motherhood.

I am assuming that's the case with most mothers. And if it's not, I don't want to know because that will only make this lop-sided ratio even more lop-sided. At this time, I cannot afford to allot more than 62% to the Department of Worrying!


As of now all I care about is the 14.75% being wasted on Guilt. Since I cannot do anything about the worry (that's the side-effect of mommyhood) or the sleeplessness (mother nature just made me that way), I figured I might as well work on the guilt. Especially with it being so very irrational and annoying.  Not that I am a very rational person. But this is too much even by my standards!  For example, the other day, long long ago, Mr. M had had a long day at work and was very tired when he got home. Minime wanted him to read her a story.  But, he said no. She came to me next. I was cleaning the kitchen and I was dead tired too. Afterall, I had been working all day. Granted that I was doing menial household stuff but that doesn't make it any less tiring. And to top it off, I am the one whose day starts at 5 a.m.  So, I said no too and then spent the next two or so hours tossing and turning. If you notice (coz I just did) I am feeling guilty right now for having said no to Minime two months ago and hence this whole post trying to justify what I did. On the other hand, a few minutes after the whole 'no-no' episode, what do I see?  Minime is fast asleep, as if she couldn't care less about the story.  And her dear daddy is snoring away to glory. This was in less than five minutes. And here I was almost in tears from the guilt.  I went and checked on her atleast 3-4 times through the rest of the night. I imagined her sobbing with her face buried in her big stuffed doggie (she does that sometimes...I am not a psycho, I swear!). I imagined her talking herself to sleep. I imagined her every possible way except fast asleep. 


And now, I am convinced beyond doubt that the guilt comes with the territory too. I am stuck and for life!    

Boy Oh Boy!

Sometimes, very rarely though, I do feel sorry for boys.  Think about it... As blessed as they might be for having us girls around, sometimes it can be challenging dealing with us.  However, the one thing I realise is that the problem is always the same. Guys just aren't smart enough to figure us out.  And we don't do much to help them out either. They want everything spelt out. They want to be spoon-fed.  We, on the other hand, like it to be a little more fun.  We want them to figure us out. We want them to know instinctively, without us having to tell them, what we want. But, somehow, they never do.

A few weeks ago minime was playing with her kid cousin brother.  Without an inkling of as to why, minime started crying with so much sadness on her face, it worried us for a split-second. Then we saw how lost the little boy looked and we knew exactly what was happening. He had no clue why she was crying. He sincerely believed that he had been at his best behaviour. He waited patiently for the storm to pass. 15 minutes later minime was still mad. None of us knew why. He was pretty sure it had something to do with him but he didn't know what.  She wasn't talking. Not to him. Not to any of us.  5 more minutes passed and she comes and tells me she's angry. "At whom?", I ask. "At myself!", she says. "Why?" "Because I don't have any small toys to play with. I don't want big toys and Aadhi has all the small ones!" (that was poor little Aadhi being a good boy and giving up the big toys for her). "Did you ask him for the small toys?". "No!", she said scoffing at the absurdity of the question.  " Doesn't he know?"  And that is when I realised how unreasonable we can sometimes be.  Not that that realisation is going to bring about any drastic changes in our lives, but at least I admitted that I realised that we can occasionally be unreasonable. Lucky Mr. M!!

S-p-e-l-l-i-n-g-s and S-e-c-r-e-t C-o-d-e-s

What is it with grown-ups and secret codes? We have kids and before we know it we are speaking in code and spelling words out. In no time at all it becomes a habit and then a compulsion. And one day we catch ourselves doing it even on our date night! This whole spelling-thing goes on for years beyond what's needed. Even with everyday not-grown-up-only words like m-i-l-k and c-h-o-c-o-l-a-t-e and m-o-v-i-e until one day we come to the realisation that it has stopped working. In fact it stopped working eons ago. And then we are forced to wonder why we didn't notice. Not even when he said," Do you want c-h-o-c-o-l-a-t-e?" and a very happy chirpy voice chimed from the back seat,"Yes!".  How did we miss that? And what's more? We actually thought we could get away with speaking in a different language! Hadn't we read in all of the 2963 books that kids pick up languages in no time at all?

The sooner parents learn one lesson, the easier life will get for them. Code languages and signs simply do not work.  A new language, hand gestures, foot gestures, eye movements, hanging upside down, jumping off of the rooftop...none of that will help you keep a secret from a child.  Kids are intelligent. They have a b-r-a-i-n and in top working condition.  In many cases, way better than ours. Sooner or later they catch up. So, now, we are trying to learn to respect minime's intelligence and more importantly trying not to make fools of ourselves.

Little Helper

My little doll is growing up and fast. She wants company and she has it all planned. Here's how her head works and this is how much she thinks. 

Observation: Mommy's tummy was really big when Mini-me was inside. Which means mommy's tummy needs to be big enough to hold a baby in order for mommy to be able to have a baby. 

Problem: Mommy's tummy is big but not enough to hold a baby. So, mommy can't have a baby.

Solution: We can 'buy' a baby from the 'shop'. 

Observation: We are 2 girls and 1 boy. 

Problem: Daddy is the only boy and so he doesn't have company when we girls are out having fun doing girl things. And Mini-me feels sad that daddy might be lonely. 

Solution: We need another boy to keep Daddy company when the 2 girls are out doing girl stuff. So, Baby Boy it is!

Observation: Babies need to be taken care of.

Problem: Mommy doesn't have time. Mini-me doesn't know how to change diapers and she has to go to school. Daddy needs to go to office to 'buy' money to buy food and toys and clothes. 

Solution: The boy needs to be 4 years old. That way he won't need diapers. He can go to school with Mini-me. And  he can play with her. If we can't find a 4 yr. old, we can 'buy' a 3 year old and if  3 yr. olds are 'all done' at the 'shop' we can settle for 2 but anything less than that would be unacceptable.

Observation: Babies need clothes, toys, food etc.

Problem: All of this will cost us some money. 

Solution: To save money, Mini-me can share her toys. She can even let the baby boy own some of her toys. For the rest of the stuff, daddy can 'buy' more money from his workplace! 

Observation: Bringing up a kid is a lot of work.

Problem: Mommy will have to work more

Solution: Mini-me can make mickey mouse pancakes and mini blueberry muffins. She can help her baby brother change clothes. And she will spend so much time taking care of him and playing with him that he won't bother Mommy. She can even help Mommy sign the receipt at the grocery store. She will write neatly and not make a mistake. She can even learn cursive writing so she can write exactly like Mommy :)

And, here she goes. "Mommy! So, when can we go and 'buy' my baby brother?"