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.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
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?"
Thursday, June 24, 2010
1...2...3...
It's amazing that kids test your limits and your patience in so many different ways but they never thought of challenging the counting trick. Parents do it all the time. "Get off the table before I count to 3 or...1, 2..." and off jumps the child. I have never had to count beyond 2. Yet. In fact I sometimes fear that one not-so-fine day minime will decide to call my bluff and I won't remember what comes after 2. Worse, I might not know what to do. Lock her in the bathroom? She might just run the bath and splash around and have fun. Maybe, lock her in her room? Nah! Too many toys to play with. Time out? Bad idea...she loves time outs. In fact she has always wanted me to put her in time out. And there's nothing else I can think off.
But, it's worked for 4 1/2 years. I am hoping it will work for another few. In fact I think it works because of our innate fear of the unknown. I have never ever told her what will happen after 3. She has never bothered to ask. Good for me! And so, I leave it to her imagination. Like the the movie 'Pan's Labyrinth' where they show absolutely no violence but the movie feels way more gory than Kill Bill. All they do is show a mean guy with a knife and another guy's fingers. And they leave the rest to your imagination. Now, knife + fingers = infinite possibilities. And somehow our brains work in such a way that we always imagine the worst possibility. Same thing. A counting parent + a poor little child = infinite possibilities and the child's brain, I assume, sees only the worst. Three cheers for the brain! Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip hooray! Hip Hip Hooray!
But, it's worked for 4 1/2 years. I am hoping it will work for another few. In fact I think it works because of our innate fear of the unknown. I have never ever told her what will happen after 3. She has never bothered to ask. Good for me! And so, I leave it to her imagination. Like the the movie 'Pan's Labyrinth' where they show absolutely no violence but the movie feels way more gory than Kill Bill. All they do is show a mean guy with a knife and another guy's fingers. And they leave the rest to your imagination. Now, knife + fingers = infinite possibilities. And somehow our brains work in such a way that we always imagine the worst possibility. Same thing. A counting parent + a poor little child = infinite possibilities and the child's brain, I assume, sees only the worst. Three cheers for the brain! Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip hooray! Hip Hip Hooray!
Friday, June 18, 2010
I'm Back...again!!
So, here I am. After another long break. This time around, I will be here for a reasonably long time. Or, so I think.
It's end of school year and my life is back to square one. But, it was mighty fun while it lasted. Like I said earlier, kids are always fun. Be it the little boy from Kindergarten who wouldn't tell on the pretty little girl from 3rd grade (who beats him up during every recess) because he wants her to like him, or the girl who just can't stop talking at circle time no matter how hard she tries, or the boy who can't separate fact from fiction (like he went to the zoo over the weekend and saw a tiger that ate some meat that the zoo keeper gave him but the meat was a deer and it came alive in his stomach and tore the tiger's tummy with it's horns and there was blood everywhere and so on and so forth), or the boy who wants to go to the restroom every 10 minitues just so he wouldn't have to do spellings, or the girl who thinks every alphabet makes the sound p, h, and k, or the girl who is so fond of singing in the bathroom and having monologues in front of the mirror that somebody needs to remind her every few seconds that there are 22 other people who can hear her loud and clear just on the other side of that door!
And now, school year is over and I might never see these kids again. It's a strange feeling but that's life. For a few weeks I might feel like there's a big gaping empty hole in my day but slowly I will figure out ways to fill it up. Whatever I fill it up with might or might not be as much fun, but fill it I will...
It's end of school year and my life is back to square one. But, it was mighty fun while it lasted. Like I said earlier, kids are always fun. Be it the little boy from Kindergarten who wouldn't tell on the pretty little girl from 3rd grade (who beats him up during every recess) because he wants her to like him, or the girl who just can't stop talking at circle time no matter how hard she tries, or the boy who can't separate fact from fiction (like he went to the zoo over the weekend and saw a tiger that ate some meat that the zoo keeper gave him but the meat was a deer and it came alive in his stomach and tore the tiger's tummy with it's horns and there was blood everywhere and so on and so forth), or the boy who wants to go to the restroom every 10 minitues just so he wouldn't have to do spellings, or the girl who thinks every alphabet makes the sound p, h, and k, or the girl who is so fond of singing in the bathroom and having monologues in front of the mirror that somebody needs to remind her every few seconds that there are 22 other people who can hear her loud and clear just on the other side of that door!
And now, school year is over and I might never see these kids again. It's a strange feeling but that's life. For a few weeks I might feel like there's a big gaping empty hole in my day but slowly I will figure out ways to fill it up. Whatever I fill it up with might or might not be as much fun, but fill it I will...
Sunday, May 23, 2010
I'm Back
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!
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!
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!!!
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