Wow! That was quite a break I took. But I have been busy. As always. I have come a little ways with pottery. I have managed to make a few cylindrical things and you won't believe how tricky it is. But here I am. With hope that's still alive and kicking.
I am back into dancing. I am reading some awesome books on Montessori and child psychology. I even clened up my precious little fountain pens and got them all ready for note-taking. I went outand bought two journals (they were on sale and they look pretty unlike the 12 odd other drab looking journals stuffed into my closet space). I have made a lot of progress with my kids at school. So, yes, my volunteering work has done some good. And as of now, I conclude from my life experiences that it is way way easier to handle a 5 year old than a 33 year old. 5 year olds are more reasonable, have more conscience, are more sensitive, understand better, empathise better and are capable of exceeding expectations as far as loving and giving goes. What can I say. I simple love them.
And, they are also more honest. Minime truly believes the only thing daddy can do better than her is snap his fingers but she will catch up soon. She does sometimes get tired of taking care of daddy. She has no Idea why dad doesn't make his own breakfast. She does agree that it is not fair to expect mommy to clean up all the time. And yes! needless to say I love this kid to death and I love her even more for the way she's turning out. Keep it up Kiddo!
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Magic
Have you ever seen a potter at work? Now, that's what I call magic. Yes! Potter+Potter's Wheel+Clay = Magic!! Not illusions but real magic. The beauty with which a lump of mud is transformed into a thing of art never ceases to fascinate me.
Do I really need to tell you in so many words that I signed up for pottery class? I am assuming you also know that I am so glad I did. Now stop it! Before you let that voice in your head say, "What?! Yet another hobby?", take a sneak peek at yourself and see if you would have done it too. Imagine! Isn't it every human being's dream to be able to get their hands dirty in some squishy soft mud without having to explain the behaviour to other people or feel the need to justify it? Wouldn't you have given anything to be able to play in mud, get your clothes dirty, your hands dirty, forget about the world and just spend 4 precious hours kneading and pinching and shaping dirt? It's like getting a second take at childhood without mommy screaming at you! Haven't you, as a child, stopped by a puddle of water during the rains and collected the really soft clay from the bottom of the puddle thus having your hands smeared in slush right up to your elbows? How many people get to do that as adults? See? Now you know what I mean!! And if you don't, you need help. Beyond all doubts!!
And that's why I say it is magic at so many levels. The clay is magically transformed into art. You are magically transformed into a child again. The world around you disappears magically. Your heart magically fills with joy... and if I don't come out with the truth now, it will be never. All this magic lasts only till the moment right before it's my turn to sit at the wheel. When the teacher's talking, I get so engrossed in admiring his work, that I magically turn deaf. And before I know it, I am sitting at the wheel. I don't know how I got there. But, that's when I realise that I haven't heard a word of what was being said and I haven't got a clue how to start. Magically everything gets "un-magicked" (reminds me of a collapsing tower of cards) and my 'mug', after having been worked on for 15 minutes, looks uglier and more misshapen than it did as a lump of clay.
But, I am not going to give up. If not making pots and vases and other things, I can atleast try and learn to let go! Isn't that what pottery is about. My teacher says it's just mud. Have no attachments to your work. Pottery is supposed to bring out the Zen monk in you. Having said that, I feel more confident about being able to make mugs that look like mugs than being able to let go. We'll see.
Do I really need to tell you in so many words that I signed up for pottery class? I am assuming you also know that I am so glad I did. Now stop it! Before you let that voice in your head say, "What?! Yet another hobby?", take a sneak peek at yourself and see if you would have done it too. Imagine! Isn't it every human being's dream to be able to get their hands dirty in some squishy soft mud without having to explain the behaviour to other people or feel the need to justify it? Wouldn't you have given anything to be able to play in mud, get your clothes dirty, your hands dirty, forget about the world and just spend 4 precious hours kneading and pinching and shaping dirt? It's like getting a second take at childhood without mommy screaming at you! Haven't you, as a child, stopped by a puddle of water during the rains and collected the really soft clay from the bottom of the puddle thus having your hands smeared in slush right up to your elbows? How many people get to do that as adults? See? Now you know what I mean!! And if you don't, you need help. Beyond all doubts!!
And that's why I say it is magic at so many levels. The clay is magically transformed into art. You are magically transformed into a child again. The world around you disappears magically. Your heart magically fills with joy... and if I don't come out with the truth now, it will be never. All this magic lasts only till the moment right before it's my turn to sit at the wheel. When the teacher's talking, I get so engrossed in admiring his work, that I magically turn deaf. And before I know it, I am sitting at the wheel. I don't know how I got there. But, that's when I realise that I haven't heard a word of what was being said and I haven't got a clue how to start. Magically everything gets "un-magicked" (reminds me of a collapsing tower of cards) and my 'mug', after having been worked on for 15 minutes, looks uglier and more misshapen than it did as a lump of clay.
But, I am not going to give up. If not making pots and vases and other things, I can atleast try and learn to let go! Isn't that what pottery is about. My teacher says it's just mud. Have no attachments to your work. Pottery is supposed to bring out the Zen monk in you. Having said that, I feel more confident about being able to make mugs that look like mugs than being able to let go. We'll see.
Monday, April 19, 2010
7 Years and No Itch...
7 years! That's how long we have been married. Isn't it around this time that certain people develop some kind of an itch? As far as I can tell, neither of us are showing any signs of major life threatening allergic reactions. No anaphylaxis. No wheezing. No ugly rashes. No devilish red eyes. No swelling. None of that. An occasional sneeze maybe, but that might just be me and my temper. To be honest, though I do not believe in stars having anything to do with how our lives end up, I still like to thank them. Especially since a significant part of my teenage years was spent star gazing :) And I truly believe that I just got lucky.
Now, that is not to say that either of us (or, for that matter, our lives) are perfect. In fact, far from it. He's the kind of guy who suffers from selective vision and hearing who never puts his shoes away and is married to an obsessive compulsive maniac who trips on his shoes every single time. So yeah! It has been a roller coaster and I am pretty sure it will stay that way for a very very long time to come. Especially with a minimalist coder who can't stop using the word 'junk' with reference to the precious stuff that belongs to the hoarder-who-is-always-right. What guts huh? Anyway, there are only so many warnings I can give. After that it will have to be something drastic like a shopping spree with the sole purpose of filling up every inch of the house with whatever I please. I might even move his junk (like his 5 T-shirts, 2 pairs of jeans, and 2 pairs of shoes) to the trunk of our car to make some extra space for my stuff. Or maybe a hunger strike...with a twist (where I do the strike part and he does the hunger part; the key is for this to happen after the shopping spree so he can't eat out) because he isn't showing any signs of improvement and I am not giving in either!!
And just so you know I HATE roller coasters. So, this is going to be the only 'joy' ride (why do they call it that?) I will actually go on willingly, and to a certain extent, happily in this lifetime (I am pretty confident there's no life after death and so I am not going to worry about that for now.)
Meanwhile I have to find the answer to a very important question. Why do people get married? By the way, this is Minime's question for me. I will not deny the fact that I ask myself this question every once in a while too. But this time I am going to pin it on her. She also wanted to know why she is not married to her dad because he is a boy and she is a girl and they are family living in the same house!!!
Now, that is not to say that either of us (or, for that matter, our lives) are perfect. In fact, far from it. He's the kind of guy who suffers from selective vision and hearing who never puts his shoes away and is married to an obsessive compulsive maniac who trips on his shoes every single time. So yeah! It has been a roller coaster and I am pretty sure it will stay that way for a very very long time to come. Especially with a minimalist coder who can't stop using the word 'junk' with reference to the precious stuff that belongs to the hoarder-who-is-always-right. What guts huh? Anyway, there are only so many warnings I can give. After that it will have to be something drastic like a shopping spree with the sole purpose of filling up every inch of the house with whatever I please. I might even move his junk (like his 5 T-shirts, 2 pairs of jeans, and 2 pairs of shoes) to the trunk of our car to make some extra space for my stuff. Or maybe a hunger strike...with a twist (where I do the strike part and he does the hunger part; the key is for this to happen after the shopping spree so he can't eat out) because he isn't showing any signs of improvement and I am not giving in either!!
And just so you know I HATE roller coasters. So, this is going to be the only 'joy' ride (why do they call it that?) I will actually go on willingly, and to a certain extent, happily in this lifetime (I am pretty confident there's no life after death and so I am not going to worry about that for now.)
Meanwhile I have to find the answer to a very important question. Why do people get married? By the way, this is Minime's question for me. I will not deny the fact that I ask myself this question every once in a while too. But this time I am going to pin it on her. She also wanted to know why she is not married to her dad because he is a boy and she is a girl and they are family living in the same house!!!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
I Give and I Take...
I am fickle minded! There! I have admitted it (for the nth time). Not only have I admitted it but also that the evidence follows...
The best time of my day (which also happens to be one of the worst) is when I see minime walk away with her teacher. And then to watch him disappear through those double doors (at work)...It's like a double bonus. But again, like I said, these are also the two most emotional moments of my day (amongst the 73 others). There are days when I feel a knot in my stomach. No! I am not kidding you. I am serious. In fact there are even days when I could have had tears well up in my eyes as I watched them go. Ok Fine! I told you I am 'that' kind of a person. But then, I always find some consolation in the fact that when I get back home, I will be alone and there shall be peace and I shall be, let's say, free.
So what if I make the wrong choices everyday, over and over again? So what if I spend approximately 90% of that 'free' time doing things I hate? So what if all I can think about in those few hours of sweet sweet freedom are dirty dishes and dirty clothes and untidy house and messy kitchen and the thing I hate the most...cooking?
Sometimes I think about it and I wonder what my life is worth? What have I done? What am I doing? Was this the right thing to do? Staying at home, without a job, being a full-time mother and a housewife? I think and I ponder and I wonder but I can never find peace in my answer. I am always of two minds. All I know is that my child likes it and my husband likes it. He says it makes his life better in some (my guess is, twisted) way. But is that all I want to do? Keep giving up on most of the things I love because I either don't have the time or the energy or both for myself? So, every once in a while I decide to do something fun with my life. Chase a dream to the end. Flow with the passion. Needless to say, every time the passion is about something new. Something as random as can be. And everytime, every single time, they have only stood by me and cheered me on. And then, I know why I do it. In a flash, all those wrong choices become right. Because life is all about give and take. I am pretty sure I take just as much as, if not more than, I give. Even so, every single time I have had the intrinsic urge to hop, they have hopped with me. Tirelessly. No questions asked. No complaints lodged. Just pure, relentless, obsessive hopping.
The best time of my day (which also happens to be one of the worst) is when I see minime walk away with her teacher. And then to watch him disappear through those double doors (at work)...It's like a double bonus. But again, like I said, these are also the two most emotional moments of my day (amongst the 73 others). There are days when I feel a knot in my stomach. No! I am not kidding you. I am serious. In fact there are even days when I could have had tears well up in my eyes as I watched them go. Ok Fine! I told you I am 'that' kind of a person. But then, I always find some consolation in the fact that when I get back home, I will be alone and there shall be peace and I shall be, let's say, free.
So what if I make the wrong choices everyday, over and over again? So what if I spend approximately 90% of that 'free' time doing things I hate? So what if all I can think about in those few hours of sweet sweet freedom are dirty dishes and dirty clothes and untidy house and messy kitchen and the thing I hate the most...cooking?
Sometimes I think about it and I wonder what my life is worth? What have I done? What am I doing? Was this the right thing to do? Staying at home, without a job, being a full-time mother and a housewife? I think and I ponder and I wonder but I can never find peace in my answer. I am always of two minds. All I know is that my child likes it and my husband likes it. He says it makes his life better in some (my guess is, twisted) way. But is that all I want to do? Keep giving up on most of the things I love because I either don't have the time or the energy or both for myself? So, every once in a while I decide to do something fun with my life. Chase a dream to the end. Flow with the passion. Needless to say, every time the passion is about something new. Something as random as can be. And everytime, every single time, they have only stood by me and cheered me on. And then, I know why I do it. In a flash, all those wrong choices become right. Because life is all about give and take. I am pretty sure I take just as much as, if not more than, I give. Even so, every single time I have had the intrinsic urge to hop, they have hopped with me. Tirelessly. No questions asked. No complaints lodged. Just pure, relentless, obsessive hopping.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Classification of Homo Sapiens
There are 3 kinds of people in this world. Type 1: those who can fall asleep in less than 15 seconds (that would be Mr. M); Type 2: those who cannot sleep even if their life depended on it (my mum); Type 3: those who can go to sleep alright but if disturbed, wake up possessed by a type 2 (that's me).
Now, this is the story of my life. I am a type 3 married to a type 1 who does not appreciate the fact that he is married to a type 3. Unfortunately for me, Mr. M loves to watch things move. So, when it's dark outside and he cannot see anything move out there, he would just settle for the idiot box. Nope! We do not have a TV but with internet, it's not very different. In fact, in many ways, it's worse.
Don't get me wrong though. I have nothing against this dear man obsessively watching images of people and things move inside of a box. The problem is that sometimes those moving objects do certain things that amuse him. Once amused, he cannot hear himself laugh because of the earphones (which are meant to help me stay asleep). So, he laughs and I toss. After about half an hour of tossing and turning at a distance of less than 20 inches away from him, he finally senses my displeasure. He, being the reasonable man that he is, switches off the laptop almost immediately, apologizes for waking me and before he has finished saying 'sorry', he's snoring. Come to think of it, I never know if he's actually saying sorry or if that is just his own personal, very cool, style of snoring which I misinterpret. Anyway, now he's fast asleep and I am wide awake. At 2 in the night. I am mad at him. I do everything in my power to wake him so he can have the pleasure and honour of keeping me company. I eventually succeed. He says, "Think calming thoughts and try to sleep. Otherwise you'll feel screwed up all day." Really?! That's quite an insight huh? I had no idea!! Anyway, after about 3 hours, I finally manage to fall asleep. Lucky me huh? Except that I live in a haunted house (reference:Paranormal activity) and needless to say, Mr. M's prophecy comes true. My day is royally screwed. I swear to myself the second I open my eyes in the morning that I will have my revenge. Someday. At least that's what I hope...
Now, this is the story of my life. I am a type 3 married to a type 1 who does not appreciate the fact that he is married to a type 3. Unfortunately for me, Mr. M loves to watch things move. So, when it's dark outside and he cannot see anything move out there, he would just settle for the idiot box. Nope! We do not have a TV but with internet, it's not very different. In fact, in many ways, it's worse.
Don't get me wrong though. I have nothing against this dear man obsessively watching images of people and things move inside of a box. The problem is that sometimes those moving objects do certain things that amuse him. Once amused, he cannot hear himself laugh because of the earphones (which are meant to help me stay asleep). So, he laughs and I toss. After about half an hour of tossing and turning at a distance of less than 20 inches away from him, he finally senses my displeasure. He, being the reasonable man that he is, switches off the laptop almost immediately, apologizes for waking me and before he has finished saying 'sorry', he's snoring. Come to think of it, I never know if he's actually saying sorry or if that is just his own personal, very cool, style of snoring which I misinterpret. Anyway, now he's fast asleep and I am wide awake. At 2 in the night. I am mad at him. I do everything in my power to wake him so he can have the pleasure and honour of keeping me company. I eventually succeed. He says, "Think calming thoughts and try to sleep. Otherwise you'll feel screwed up all day." Really?! That's quite an insight huh? I had no idea!! Anyway, after about 3 hours, I finally manage to fall asleep. Lucky me huh? Except that I live in a haunted house (reference:Paranormal activity) and needless to say, Mr. M's prophecy comes true. My day is royally screwed. I swear to myself the second I open my eyes in the morning that I will have my revenge. Someday. At least that's what I hope...
Monday, March 29, 2010
Peace
From what I have learnt over the past 4 and a 1/2 years, true inner peace comes in two flavours. One when something wonderful happens and the other when something awful ends. Seems pretty obvious huh? Now I might sound like an idiot, but it wasn't all that obvious to me until a few days back. A few days back, something happened and I started to think. I know there's nothing new about that. But this time something came out of it. I learnt something about myself. Don't ask me what b'coz I don't have a clue!! And if at this point you are nearly in tears feeling sorry for that poor man who married me almost 7 years ago, go ahead and shed those tears. It is totally worth it and I am with you all the way.
Coming back to the 'something' that happened, a few days back I was cooking and it suddenly dawned upon me that I was actually liking it. Now, hate is a strong word but I am still going to go ahead and use it. I hate cooking!! But on this particular day I was actually kind of liking it. And then suddenly I realised that I was at peace. I had to find out why and almost instinctively I knew I would find the answer if I peeked into my daughter's room. I saw father and daughter snuggled up together in her little kiddie bed reading a book.
And that minute I knew that my life was beautiful. Way more beautiful that I believed it to be. I had found my answer. I was at peace because for once I wasn't tripping on pencils and crayons in the kitchen. For once my recipes and the likes weren't falling off my fridge door because somebody decided to steal all my magnets to make pretend coffee. For once my life wasn't filled with noise from netflix or youtube. For once there wasn't a voice, already starting to complain about the food even before I was done with the cooking.
I knew then that this was as peaceful as my life will ever get. Kind of like the feeling I get when I return home after dropping these two loves of my life at school and work. Like a refugee returning home after the war has ended and peace has returned.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Them or Us?
5 years ago many people told me that a kid would change my life. Life as I know it will cease to exist. Honestly, I just didn't get it. I don't know if it was the bulging tummy or the hormones playing a trick on me but I simply refused to believe that. I knew life would change. But I didn't think it would be that extreme. Now I not only know they were right, but also that they were being kind.
Many a time I feel like I am being controlled by this alien creature that has somehow planted a chip in my head with which it can manipulate me and monitor and control every thought process. I am sure it happened when I zonked out in the labour room minutes before Minime arrived. How else is it possible that the most self centered thoughts, within a matter of seconds, become about Minime? Like this one: "This yarn will be perfect for my scarf...or the handbag she asked me to knit her". Or this one: " I want those blueberry muffins RIGHT NOW...actually let me save them for her". The tragedy is not that I think about her all the time. The tragedy is that I think about her even when there's 4 box fulls of yarn. The tragedy is that I feel the same way about each and every skein of yarn in those boxes. The tragedy is that I think that way even when there are about 50 muffins left and I want to have just a couple. What is it with mommies? Do we really think 48 muffins are not going to be enough for a 4 year old or that she would want to own 700 thousand handbags? That's why I say, it's not them. It's us and the chip.
Many a time I feel like I am being controlled by this alien creature that has somehow planted a chip in my head with which it can manipulate me and monitor and control every thought process. I am sure it happened when I zonked out in the labour room minutes before Minime arrived. How else is it possible that the most self centered thoughts, within a matter of seconds, become about Minime? Like this one: "This yarn will be perfect for my scarf...or the handbag she asked me to knit her". Or this one: " I want those blueberry muffins RIGHT NOW...actually let me save them for her". The tragedy is not that I think about her all the time. The tragedy is that I think about her even when there's 4 box fulls of yarn. The tragedy is that I feel the same way about each and every skein of yarn in those boxes. The tragedy is that I think that way even when there are about 50 muffins left and I want to have just a couple. What is it with mommies? Do we really think 48 muffins are not going to be enough for a 4 year old or that she would want to own 700 thousand handbags? That's why I say, it's not them. It's us and the chip.
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