Learning to speak in English...

We are a nation obsessed with English. We are a nation obsessed with getting our kids to speak English, correct grammar and all, right from the beginning (yeah I swear on that by my Wren and Martin).
An English-medium education is what we all crave for our kids -- everyone wants it for their kids -- from the household help, the vegetable seller, the dhobi, your neighbour, YOURSELF (myself included), your neighbour, your cousins in small towns and villages. I'm not looking down upon anyone here, just saying that it's a universal aspiration.
There is pride and joy on our iron-man's face when he reminds me (each time i ask him how his daughters are doing) "Nan makkalu English-medium nalli odtaavre" (My kids study in English medium).

And I haven't been left behind either. I've joined the rat race too, in complete rat-like earnestness to get Sonny to understand some English before he takes those giant steps to "big boy's school" next academic year.

Honestly I hadn't realised how soon it begins till one day we were in an argument, Sonny and I, about some random thing. We were as usual talking in Kannada, our mother tongue. Then, in frustration, i cant remember on what issue, I screamed in English: "Where do you want me to be?" After a moment of silence he said "Here, at home." I was shocked.
a) I hadn't expected a reply to my rhetorical question
b) I hadn't expected him to really understand my question
c) I hadn't expected a reply in English.
d) I hadn't expected a completely coherent phrase/sentence.

It was then that it struck me that he'd told me a few days ago, some time post the Dasara vacation that his playhome teachers had been telling them all to converse in school only in English. So now it's "I want water" (of course, "please" is still a difficult word in his world). A sharp "Yah" (with a stress on the "h" sound) or a vehement head-nodding "No" to my questions. Sometimes a simple "Nice, I like" when he likes a dress I'm wearing. He's able to understand most of the questions I ask him in English. Sometimes replies in English, sometimes in Kannada, sometimes a mix of both languages...

I have a really failing memory, but what prompted me to write this post was a conversation I had last night with him, both of us sitting on the sofa, he was tracing lines on a work sheet his teacher had given. I wish I had immediately jotted it down then, but we spoke some four sentences, back and forth, Q and A, in complete coherence. I was quite amused...and well, happy.

I know of many Indian parents who straight away start talking to their kids in English only, since the child is born, so he/she picks up English well and early. I also know equally well of so many parents (like me and hubby) who insist on talking to the child only in our mother tongue at home, knowing that they will pick up English in school later anyway. And that they must know the language spoken by the family quite well.

We recently had some of hubby's guests from overseas home for dinner. After chatting them up with a few "Yah"s and "No"s he came beaming to me and said "Amma naanu avara jothey English-nalli maataadta iddeeni, with a twinkle in his eyes. (Mummy, I'm talking to them in English.) It's not like we've ever asked him to talk to anyone in English, but when we lapse into it in conversations at home, he joins us. I mean, I've had a really aggressive aunt of mine, a teacher, who has always insisted on speaking to him in English whenever she visited -- earlier he would look at her agog, wide eyed, but never understanding a word. I used to love watching them together.

I must also mention that Sonny's English has hit a high with his watching very seriously this channel called Cbeebies -- the BBC's children's channel. Saying he's addicted is an understatement. I like the channel too because there are no advertisements, the programmes are really short, and are really targeted at the pre-school age  group (at least most of those he likes watching).  Moreover, all these programmes have some form of learning woven into them -- concepts of colour, shapes, names of animals etc. There's also a show called "I can cook" which my Sonny watches like he's seriously gonna make the dish next at home! Many of the sentences are enunciated slowly, and I have often caught repeating these short sentences like "He has gone to bed", or "The sun has set" as he watches the show.

When every sentence of the day begins with WHY?

Why should I pee?
Why is there sunlight in the morning?
Why should I brush my teeth?
Why can't I swallow the toothpaste?
Why should I drink milk?
Why hasn't the maid come in yet?
Why should I go to school?
Why does the earth shake when an elephant or dinosaur stomp about?
Why does an elephant have so much strength?
Why do I have to nap?
Why should I wash my hands after touching my bum?
Why does a plant need water?
Why can't I keep an elephant at home? A real live one??
Why did you just exclaim "Ayyo"?
Why did you just hit me?
Why did you not say "sorry"?
Why are you cooking?
Why are you not wearing bangles today?
Why are you wearing MY bangles today?
Why did you just call me a "bad boy"??
Why do you have to go to office now?
Why should we wear a different dress before we go to bed every night?
Why are you wearing a bindi?
Why did you just tell me not to do that?
Why should we pray before going to bed?
Why do we have bad dreams?
Why can i not put all my fingers in my mouth at once?
Why can I not watch my favourite elephant rhyme more again?
Why do people live below our house?
Why do you want to watch TV?
Why did the cat visit our house today?
Why doesn't a cat have a house of its own?
Why can't I stay with my grandfather?
Why should we not leave the tap running?
Why does daddy always watch TV?
Why do we have to put out a milk coupon in a bag every night?
Why is it dark at night?
Why can't I drink water soon after I have my homeopathic medicine?
Why should we sleep at night?

Intelligence: what can a 3-year-old understand?

Maybe intelligence is too loaded a word, maybe understanding is what I'm talking about -- not sure, though.

Sonny turend three years old recently and he leaves me befudled by his understanding or lack of it of many things around him. Ok, before anyone can pounce on me, i know "he's only 3!!!"

I'm looking at it in relative terms -- I'm not comparing him with other kids. I'm comparing it with his comprehension of various different things.

He asks me questions about death, my aunt who died, weather we'll all "go" one day too, and seems to be pretty calm and absorbent with the explanations offered.

He wants to know what happens to food once we put it in our mouth, how mosquitoes suck our blood, how water comes out in a tap, where from etc. He understands most of the answers given.

He's able to solve pretty complex jigzaw puzzles...he also seems to have a decent memory for names, things, incidents, people, places, images... 

He's figured out that the gate mustbe closed behind him, that after eating chocolate, the wrapper must be thrown in a dustbin...

But then seemingly simple things, he can't get. Each time I raise this, a very kind ol uncle of mine says that's how kids work. What's "seemingly simple" to us adults is not necessarily simple for kids. Hmmm plausible explanation.

But he can't seem to understand that i need to eat, to pee, -- basic things that others do too -- and he does too. Why is that unacceptable? Agreed, may be he thinks it takes away from the time spent with him, but honestly, a pee? And all the time I eat at home, I eat with him or soon after him, sometimes talking to him or while playing with him. He also doent allow any people into the house (maha-embarassing) and screams when I take a phone call at home -- even as I type all this out it's getting clearer that these may be "wanting attention" issues.

He can't seem to care for explanations when he wants his way -- a sort of blocking out of logic when he wants what he does. I'm tired now of tantrums. Screaming, crying bouts for "i don't want to eat this!" or "i want to go to grandpa's RIGHT NOW", "i don't want to sleep inside the mosquito net", or "i don't want to wash my hands before eating". No explanation is acceptable when he WANTS or doesn't want these things.

He doesn't want to understand the word "no". When it's bedtime he wants to colour. When it's time for dinner he doesnt want food, when it's time to play he's hungry -- just so disturbingly so. Is it his way of telling me he's The Boss? Gawwwdddd.....

I'm not really thinking this all out clearly maybe...maybe i'm mixing up issues. But i'm just TIRED. heeelllllpppppp

Do you still feel "at home" at your mother's home?

Mother's home. Mom's place. Tavaru maney... These are phrases that really hold a deep-rooted emotional umbrella of feelings over your heart. They shade your heart from the rest of the world.

Yet, its so ironical how you feel so out of place in this same home you grew up in all your life, once you move out and have your "own" life. The umbilical cord connecting you to that distinct world "before marriage" gets stretched and strained in unimaginable ways.

No, I'm not in distress or anything...I just got thinking about it a few days ago, when I made a comment to an aunt of mine. I was visiting her. Hubby was on tour as usual. "So will you stay back at mom's tonight?" she asked casually. "No, I'm going back...I just feel more comfortable there...." without realising the horror of what has just escaped my lips. But my aunt, a decade older than me, completely identified with that and said she feels the same way too...we swept over the issue with an understanding smile for each other.

But, it is true...for me at least. maybe it is too for some other women.

My mom has always been a very strict disciplinarian, and post-marriage, the freedom from that I guess makes me feel this way. Even now when I go back to mom's I hate being whipped by her -- put the glass away after drinking tea- don't let it dry up, don't enter kitchen till you've brushed your teeth, "go, go have a bath fast", make the bed as soon as you get up, don't keep the oily ladle on the kitchen counter, don't drop food on the stove while serving yourself dinner....

I know, small things...still, no one tells you that in your home! (It's a different matter that you're saying all that to husband and child perhaps, in your own role as mother...) Sometimes I feel miserable that I take this home, these people and their presence in my life for granted. My friend who recently lost her mother always points out in times of distress "But at least you have a 'mom's home' to go to....." Oh how miserable I feel for her at such times.

I don't know if it's age, but every conversation with the parents is no longer a conversation -- it's an argument, very often a fight. Because we disagree on most things. How and when did I grow so different from them, and they from me?

I don't like being told what to do. I never liked it, but I was never so vehement in protesting either, earlier. Perhaps then, I didn't have some place to "escape" to. No "escaping to husband's" when parents piss you off.

But it's amazing how I'll still run to mom's when I'm sick, when things aren't smooth with the in-laws or hubby, when I'm just feeling low, when I don't feel like cooking. It's still a place I go to seeking solace, comfort, food, love, and the familiarity of all things childhood and growing-up. But then, there's a point when I want to return.

Whenever I point out to mom "My pollen allergy always gets triggered in YOUR house," in between my allergic sneezing bouts, it gets her all teary. "MY house..? You grew up perfectly fine here all these years..."

This thing of yours and mine, mom's and mine, parent's and husband's ... how easily we cross over, leaving behind more than two decades of what shaped us. How casually we sift and separate, distinguish and compartmentalise. How foolishly we claim what we have now is ours.

Mr. Rules - Everything must be just so

Sonny Boy rules my life (no, I'm NOT proud of it). He has rules for everything. He has rules for every ritual in his life  -- each activity in his everyday life is a ritual. I'm not joking, its FRUSTRATING. Here's what's pissing me off these days...I just endured an episode early this morning, at about 4.30 a.m.

1. Mummy must never pee. He seems to have SOMETHING against it. I have talked it out with him, tried reasoning with him, always keep the bathroom door open lest he thinks I'm going to get sucked down the commode...I've told him I can't pee where I stand in the house, or in a diaper like him at night...I've pointed out that he pees! And waste must go out of the body or we'll be ill blah blah....he listens with big eyes and then weeps to say "You must not do soosoo"!!!!!!!!!!!!

2. His nose must be wiped in the precise strokes he specifies -- it must be pressed hard with a kerchief and you must wok on it from top to nose tip -- the hanky must never be inserted in the nostril. We've tried telling him he can please wipe his own nose whichever way he likes, but no. WE must only do it, and it can only be done HIS way, or there's more tears and snot.

3. Now that Bangalore's getting colder, he pees himself silly through the night. However thick the diaper, he leaks out the front from top (aaargh the boy thing!). He's smart enough to wake me in the middle of the night most of the time and tell me "I've done susoo", which usually indicates his diaper is FULL. But then, I'm supposed to change him without switching on the lights! Bleary-eyed blimey me... If I switch on even like a night lamp he'll wail like a banshee and wake up the entire apartment. I cannot wash hands, throw soiled diaper in dustbin, basically get out of his radar....Oh and yes, it must be his brand of diaper or he has issues with that.....I know a whole lot of parents are nodding their heads as they read this, thinking I'm this loser complying to his every demand. But really....it's really challenging to put up with his tantrums at the end of a long working day.

4. He has a set order in which things must happen -- saying goodbye to my parents every night is done in a particular order and way, if its sandals he's wearing, only he must put them on -- any attempt to help buckling up results in a tantrum, dinner must be served in an order -- chapati first, rice later. If it's a holiday, by noon he has to be at his grandparents', there must be just that amount of toothpaste on his brush, the water to rinse his mouth must be put into mouth in that one same direction/angle always

I've considered if he suffers from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD)... is it possible to have a child checked for it? I wonder sometimes if it's a sign of anything else...don't want to take names unnecessarily...I wonder if its just me who needs to see a therapist, giving in, as I am, to most of his stupid "rules". Anybody out there with an insistent child like this? He'll be three next month -- I can't even blame it on the Terrible Twos anymore....

Staying away from child -- Part 2. Sonny travelled without me

Sonny Boy did his first travel independent of mummy. Of course Daddy was with him.
It was almost like a challenge for Daddy Dearest -- he had to kind of prove that Sonny could survive without Mummy. That he could take care of him on his own. That his parents could handle him as well as mine!

And so they set out last Saturday morning, making the long journey to my in-laws' hometown partly by train and partly by road.
The day before he set out Sonny had the loosies! So I packed all his medicines (emergency and otherwise -- homeopathy mostly) and sent him off with a hug and prayer. The morning of the journey though, he protested going. It was pouring like crazy in Bangalore at 4.30 a.m. and my dad had to be brought into the scene to soothe him and accompany him to the railway station.

I felt like a helicopter mom as i made calls every 1.5 hours to hubby after they boarded the train, asking if Sonny was OK, if he had the loosies again, if he'd eaten, if he'd drunk milk, if he'd allowed the husband to go pee...

Apparently he was entertained enough by a fellow passenger "uncle" and some rhyme DVDs played on the husband's laptop. Hubby's entire khaandaan landed at the station where they got off to accompany little Sonny for the last leg of the journey by road -- bro-in-law drove them down home -- a good three hours again.

 Phew! The worst was over. I'd been having nightmares -- Sonny will scream and cry in the train, hubby wont be able to calm him, people around will suspect him of running away with a child, they will cluck-cluck in sympathy about the poor child forced to travel without a mother (yeah I'm filmi...I was raised on a diet of Hindi cinema), someone will pull chain/stop train and they will be forced to get down and catch a taxi back home from the nearest town...

And when i was relieved that this wouldn't happen, I calmed down. I also realised what a fool I've been to think I'm so indispensable in his life. No one ever is. It's something we fool ourselves with, building this notion of grandeur and importance about ourselves, for ourselves.

Next I decided I'll do things for myself. Another TOUGH thing. I realised my life is so centred around Sonny, I couldn't really "do" much except shopping, a date with my best friend from college days, took my mum out. Wanted a pedicure, but couldn't fit it into my busy schedule ;-) I slept. I read like crazy. I actually got to READ Sunday newspaper supplements in peace.

Sonny came back two days ago, after a three-day independent vacation, travelling with daddy, a return night journey by bus (WOW!!!) et all. And he's back to hugging me, crying like crazy, taking my trip etc. He came back pampered, a bit grown up, pretty spoilt, and with more loosies than i can handle!!!

I've shaved and other stories: a quick milestones/achievement roundup of Sonny Boy..Yeah, I can be a proud mom too.

Sonny Boy is going to be two-years-and-four-months old in another 12 days.

As I look back on that, I realise there are so many things about him that I'm proud of, and happy for, for him.
I also realise I crib so often and so much and sound so negativistic here all the time, I'm making a monster of him and myself.

And then I realise he's not so bad, and neither am I. It's just that once I'm done releasing my frustrations on the blog (caused mostly by him and occasionally by hubby) I go back to Sonny peaceful and brimming with love. So thanks "blogging" -- for doing this much -- to allow me let off steam on you, rather than on my son.

Here are a lost of things he does now...I haven't made any scrapbook and i keep no other diary, so I hope this one is "for the record" and is around for me to access when Sonny is, say, 20 and I can tell him embarrassing stories about himself.

1. He's interested in doing things around the kitchen -- he loves peeling peas and togarikaalu, which is in season now. He does it with my grandma.

2. He quite enjoys helping me pluck and sort out methi (fenugreek greens). And i must say he does a dedicated job of it.

3. He can pull on his own nickers and pants after doing the loo round. And if there's enough time, he can even peel them off before heading to the loo. After a bath, he likes to wear his pants himself. That's way better than fighting wearing any clothes at all!

4. He can make up and tell stories. And very cute ones at that. He's inspired by the Panchatantra stories. Most of the characters in the stories are animals. And interspersed with them are his playschool teachers! Most of the animals have a upaaya (idea)! And once he finishes the story, he'll say "ashtey" (that's it) to hint to us that we must shower our appreciation. And he can't wait...so he'll follow "ashtey" with "CLAP!" (He told me four stories back-to-back before going to sleep this week, one night.)

5. He's singing rhymes like crazy -- mostly in English and Kannada and some in Hindi. He's picking up about two a week.

6. He is also beginning to deliberately distort language -- he sings rhymes with all words ending with the same sound. Or beginning with it. And enjoys everyone's amusement or irritation at it. He knows he's singing it weird and loves the sound of it.

7. He talks to his Teddy Bear -- this morning he was teaching Teddy to count out coins from a box. He even wanted to take Teddy along for a haircut.

8. He's showing more and more interest in eating by himself. Messy, prolonged, process. But boy! Is he interested! Whether to eat with hand/spoon/fork, he's an eager beaver.

9. At the park, he used to be fairly scared if any other child came and stood behind him to climb up the slide and he would just back off and let everyone go, stand and stare. Last week, I was thrilled to see when he went and told an older kid "Please, I'll go first". And the kid let him, and helped him up. He can climb up the wooden "monkey ladder" with ease and confidence.

10. He's got an imaginary friend whom he talks to sometimes...not very clear yet, but he does it sometimes.

11. He loves puzzles and gets tired of doing the same ones pretty fast. I love the excitement with which he puts the pieces together and complains before doing the complex ones saying "idu tumba traas kodattey" (this one troubles me a lot).

12. He brushes his teeth -- no toothpaste. And often drinks the water, much to my irritation. If i ask him to rinse and spit out the water, he loves to swallow it and giggle away.

13. Yesterday, he told me his cheeks were "soft", his hair was "nice". And then when I continued saying his chin was "soft" too, he told me it was because he shaved!!!!!

That, i think sums it up for now. And I love 13, so I'll stop there.

PS: I suddenly realised how "kicked" it feels to be proud of your child's achievements, even as I typed each one out. If you have a kid/s between 2 and 2.5 years and are feeling the same way, do share your pride with me, and I'll create another post to put it all together (just because I'm  in a good mood). Don't forget to put down the child's age, and do mention if it's a boy or girl. If you're a blogger and have already blogged about this (which I'm sure you all have ;-), do mail me a link and I'll see if I can add links too. Cheers!

"The Social Network" or how to get millions of other people to be friends online while you lose your own best friend and real relationships

Watched the movie "The Social Network" last night. First things first -- I'M NOT ON FACEBOOK. It's a badge I wear with a certain amount of pride and conceit, yes.

It was a movie that took me by the collar, gave me one hard hit below my chin as it opened, and had my rapt edge-of-seat attention the whole way. For starters, it's great movie making that did not involve action/sci-fi/computer graphics/animation.

Ok so enough has been written about how it's the story of Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg, how it's based on the non-fiction book "The Accidental Billionaires", how the whole thing is so much fiction and so little fact. "You don't get to 500 million friends without making a few enemies" says the film's tagline and it just about sums up the essence of the film stupendously.

I'm looking at it as the Facebook movie. I've always resisted being on Facebook. I've refused to be Facebooked as many times as I've refused to eat okra/ladies finger. That's a LOT number of times.
I'm sick of all my friends who ask me, as if it were so ...so inevitable that I, like everyone else, should be on Facebook. I don't want to, thank you.

 I don't want my life to be one big open book. I like to live secretively. As much as I can, though I am a blabbermouth. But blabbering in office when five are listening is hopefully, very different from blabbering to 500 on Facebook.
I was once on Orkut. And it skewed my life so bad. I got off it and swore I'll never be on anything like that again. I was ADDICTED. In office, I would come running in every morning to check what "scraps" had come my way. In office I would have barely logged out from it to do some work when I would sign in again -- just to see if anyone had said anything inane to me. I didn't have an Internet connection at home. On my off days, I would go to a cybercafe to check my Orkut profile....jeez, I'm glad I'm past those days of "want to be friends" requests from wierdos.

And yet I see myself all over the office  all over again -- in the form of the younger lot that is now on Facebook, and is constantly on it at the workplace. Yes, sometimes I do feel left out. I regularly ask the best friend (a college classmate who's been "friends" in real life for over 11 years now) when I chat with her on the phone once a week -- "So what's up on Facebook? Anyone else in the batch had babies?"

I have asked colleagues to login to their account to show me pictures of other colleagues at wild parties -- I have had my share of voyeurism.  But I'd hate to think what would happen to me if I had my own Facebook. My life would have been messier than it already is. I even read a piece in The Guardian on a guy who was contemplating "Facebook Suicide" -- a desire to kill his account on Facebook. Wish I could find it and link with it here...

Anyways, I went to the movie, because I know what the phenomenon of Facebook is about, to a certain extent, from what I've heard/read up on/seen. I wanted to see the face behind Facebook -- the guys who created it all. The debate of how authentic the facts are may be being thrashed out all the time, but it's a story well-told.

It's about a young guy's wanting to belong when feeling left out and rejected, of grabbing attention with his code-building skills, of the brilliance of wanting to connect young people seamlessly on the Internet (I don't think Zuckerberg really expected everyone's dads and moms to be on Facebook to keep track of their kids notoriety!). It's about his Eureka moments when he suddenly gets an idea for one more distinctive feature for Facebook -- the status message! It's about a student's vulnerability in the big bad world of money, of prioritising friends, of letting go of them, of deceit, of ambition, of wanting to make it big.

The lawsuits that followed the founder of Facebook form the crux of the film, from where the story spreads out its tentacles. I don't want to tell the story here, because, whet the hell, you'll find the synopsis on the Internet and perhaps Facebook! The whole point is to see the film to get an idea of went on in the lives of these guys, what they created as against their own lonely quiet code-engulfed lives. I loved the end -- it's such a picture of loneliness, isolation and desolation of a guy who helped a million people become friends.

The film is young, fact, racy, has you laughing so very often, and listening in with a knowing look. Facebookers will probably enjoy it a lot more than I did. But at the end of all the suing, all the money, all the success and all the disaster, you definitely are left feeling for Zuckerberg.

Adventures in MIL-land

Or I could call it "My damp squib Diwali and other stories..."
Ok this post is just for laughs (seriously, wink wink). Hopefully I'll laugh at it some day.
Back from mom-in-law's where we celebrated Diwali.

It was an adventure for many reasons, starting with the fact that it's a jungle out there!

No really. It started raining real hard the day before we landed.
The courtyard in the back of the house was teeming with slimy slugs and little shiny black frogs, among other things. And of course a whole lot of slippery green moss.

The loo is on the other side of the courtyard!
So all through our vacation, we were running across the uncovered courtyard to take a leak, mostly in the rain...haha. And I had to traipse carefully, avoiding slugs and trying to keep my balance on the slippery courtyard. And if Sonny Boy wanted to pee, I had to carry his highness across with me -- he refused to step on the slimy courtyard, though he loved watching the slugs and bugs.

The main source of water for the household is a well in the courtyard. Something had happened the day before (very strategic of the well, i was thinking) and the water had gone smelly. MIL insisted nothing had fallen in it (it's an open well and i didn't dare to peep in; no one wanted to consider the possibility of getting the water checked or cleaned!). She cooly told us to add some Dettol into our bathing water and supplied us with two huge bottles! For rinsing our mouth, there was stored tap water (piped corporation water comes once in four days). In Rome, do as the Romans do....

The much-loved and revered ancestral house (over 60 years old) is crumbling. And in the rains, water seeps into the walls. There's a musty smell about the house and a dankness i can't explain. The much-loved and revered house cannot be repaired or re-built because the grandfather built it! There's no running water in the kitchen and it's stayed that way all through...even now. MIL says she doesn't need it. I squirm every time she washes vegetables/greens/coriander.

Due to a small family feud (ahem ahem), I didn't have to cook for the entire khaandaan as expected -- just for the six of us, as against the  expected 11 or 12.

Sonny Boy and I fell sick because of the rains, the wetness of it all, the cold... so MIL said "No curd!" We both sulked so much. :-(

Most of the holiday was spent ferrying wet clothes from the open courtyard into the kitchen and then running back again when even a ray of sunshine was visible, in the hope that the clothes would finally dry!

And in between all this was MIL's don't-touch-me madi phase in the mornings when she would cook for the Gods. So I would do a little dance as i made breakfast or tea, and remember not to bump into her and spoil her sanctity.

Oh and tea! I made lots and lots and pots of that. That's one thing MIL loves to give up whenever I'm there -- making tea. And the family drinks lots of it, over and over again. Fresh. Never from a flask, mind it! I get better and better at brewing tea every time i visit them.

The family also does not believe in vegetables! I mean it. After the first day when we ate sprouts and a side dish with greens, and the second day where there was brinjal/eggplant, there was just LOADS of fried food and dishes with oodles of besan flour. Result: Sonny Boy and I were constipated! And we both developed a throat infection :-(

Ok enough....I've been cribbing and bitching too much. But just to re-live the experiences over and over again, thinking and writing about it, lets me cut free from the cycle of that existence. And to move on with the grind back home.

I'm getting slap-happy. Feel like monster mom

I can't control my hand these days. It instinctively flies at Sonny Boy almost every day. Yeah that's bad. But what the hell! He's always spilling out food stuff from jars on to the floor, and throwing goodies out of the window, sticking his dirty finger up the water filter tap, defiantly peeing just outside the bathroom door -- the works.

Defiance. That's what I see in his eyes.

Am i getting too hard on him? I don't really have too many dont's for him. But the few things i don't want him doing, I DON'T want him doing.

I've tried ignoring him when he misbehaves (because i think he does it for attention).
I've tried holding him close and slowly and calmly telling him the consequences of what he's done ("See, now we don't have grandmas' yummy food left to eat" -- kind of stuff)
I've tried telling him a strict no, looking hard into his eyes.
I've tried smacking his bottom and sometimes rapping him on his back.
I've tried short time outs too (something i hate, but decided to give a shot, in desperation).
Nothing seems to work.

But most instinctively I've been slapping his bottom.
My mom and grandmom keep warning me that soon he'll be so immune to the slaps, he'll get more stubborn.
My dad in all patience tries to tell him what he's doing is wrong etc. Then he runs out of patience too and complains to me.

Spare the rod, spoil the child, I tell myself.
Then I keep reminding myself, I wasn't spoilt, and I was almost never hit -- twice precisely through childhood, and both times by my father! And my parents swear I was well-behaved and never needed so much disciplining.

I mean, Sonny Boy has to be reasonable at least some times -- at least five out of 10. Yesterday again he'd managed to reach the salt jar; nanny grabbed it in time. And he threw a tantrum saying he wants the salt jar. I asked him "why do u want it?" and he says "I want to throw salt on the floor"! and cried again without letting up. Ufffff... I tried telling him that salt was for eating; the only person listening was nanny.

P.S: Happy Diwali every one. Have a great year. I'm away for a few days, doing the customary "Diwali with the in-laws in husband's hometown" which translates into cooking humongous amounts of food for the joint family that will be there in full force -- 12 adults and four children. Sigh. Yeah! I have to say happy holidays ;-)

Oh and another PS: Please do catch this film called Udaan (made in 2010), starring the very sweet and angelic-faced Rajat Barmecha, and Ronit Roy in a very hate-able role. It's so much about breaking free and coming of age; but for me, it was so about how not to the kind of father Ronit (Bhairav Singh) is in the film. And don't watch it during the festival. Before or after is better; the film can be heart wrenching at times.

Gone in 60 seconds

List of things that have been tossed out of our second-floor apartment window over the last few days by Sonny Boy :
1. Brand new blue baby-friendly fork
2. Stacking barrels
3. All sorts of packing material
4. Today he tried throwing out the ketchup bottle (stopped him in time)
5. He almost threw out the house keys (stopped him in time)
6. Husband's Old Spice after shave and powder
7. My chapati-wrapping foil

8. Souvenir fridge magnet
9. His favourite green plastic ball
Things Sonny's been emptying on the floor, all bottles and cups, bottoms up
1. Water (everyday from my bottle)
2. A whole bottle of moisturiser on my silk cushion cover :-(
3. My MIL's homemade groundnut chutney sent across hundreds of kilometres (couldn't save it)
4. Salt from the jar on the table (a few spoons every day)
5. Today morning, my lunch box full of curd rice (stopped him in the nick of time).
 
What is it with kids this age and wanting to throw things out the window, spill it on the floor?
Uncontrollable desire to destruct?
Joy of seeing mommy erupt like a volcano after she comes running faster than most athletes from the kitchen?
 
I can't figure it out.
And it's annoying, keeping an eye on him always and trying to guess what he's going to attack next.
 
Next I'll have to put a net across the windows -- what all must one do to tackle these phases?
Or, just sit back and watch
In the hope that tomorrow (or as soon as that) he will be a different person.

Your child is insecure, intoverted and cries all the time: We give up

It was anything but a warm welcome after the travel-intensive office conference trip. The little joys of me time were swept way by a flood of criticism, pointing fingers and accusing statements.

Landed back home to realise we're due at a parent-teacher meeting at Sonny Boy's playschool. It was our first, and boy! Was it a disaster!

The school's director and his class teacher, in no un-certain terms told us that Sunny Boy was insecure, introverted and shy, refused to mix with other children, didn't want to participate in any of the class activities, doesn't sing rhymes, only does actions sometimes, refuses to jump on the trampoline, refuses to change class or teacher, was even scared of holding a crayon! That he cries too much, doesn't eat what's in his box, that other children were losing out on a whole lot of fun because Sonny Boy was pretty un-handlable!

THAT i thought was the last straw.

They said they had "given up" on him because he refused to "settle down" despite being at the playschool since June.

They told us that we must make him more secure and loved, wanted. We must use more physical touch to give him the reassurance.

It was a hard slap for me across my face. Because at home, he's never like this.
He loves his crayons and colouring.
He sings all his rhymes with action at home.
Yes, he cries a lot and throws tantrums -- a problem we're trying to solve too.

What hurt most was the curt way in which they told us he was beyond control. And that we were to blame. They asked us for solutions.

Agreed as a parent, we must be actively involved in solving the issue at hand, but doesn't the teacher play any role in this?
We put him in this playschool simply because unlike others, they seemed informal, ready accept each child as an individual, with different rates of development.
The classes or groups were small -- his initial group had six kids and three teachers -- that was good I thought.

What happened along the way, I wonder? He would come back initially happy with rhymes. Now he wakes up in the morning absolutely refusing to go to playschool.

In the last about 36 hours of desperation and depression I have read up vaguely on autism, stumbled upon selective mutism, childhood insecurity, separation anxiety, toddler anxiety....I've considered changing playhome, considered quitting job and staying home with him, pulling him out for a few months from any playschool....

Feeling guilty that I didn't notice all this till now, miserable that we may have caused it and vicious against the teachers for being so mean about it.

Confused, and searching for answers....

Weekend wake up call: rewired bio-clock

I know kids do the wierdest of things. But Sonny Boy stumps me. Or may be I'm just an impossible, hopeless optimist.

Today being a Saturday morning, I thought I would take it a little easy. Hubby doesn't work, Sonny doesn't have playschool and I can get into work late. A little OT on the sleep front would have been good.

But Sonny just KNOWS he has no playschool. His body alarm was set last night when he realised it's a weekend, i guess. (How did he know? Maybe I should cheat next Friday and tell him he has to go to playschool tomotrrow). Anyway, today, he was up a good 40 minutes before the usual wakey time! Waah. And immediately wanted to do potty.

If there's anything I hate more, it's to open my eyes and go fetch his potty. And surprisingly, nothing is more delightful than to have him done with his pooping first thing in the morning, specially before playschool. I think it's a good habit. "Going" first thing in the morning.

Just that it's frustrating because it doesn't happen regularly. Very often he's ready to "go" only after he's all dressed and ready to step out for playschool, shoes, socks n all. AND frustrating because he's the kind of toddler that poops several times a day.

I had been warned that boys are very different with their poop routines and frequencies than girls, but I had brushed it all aside as gender-biased talk. But damn! The grandmothers are always right. Boys do poop very often -- at least Sonny is out to prove that theory.

Or it was the other extreme for a few months where he would not go for many days.

Both situations can be equally frustrating. And to beat it all, I have my grandmother constantly admonishing me for cribbing so much about Sonny's Poop Policy. "He's just a kid. Kids do a lot of kakka, it's good," she'll shake her head and say.

And so it was that Saturday morning shone bright and early. On pre-school going days, I've to shake him up and wake him, cuddle him, mollify him, listen to him answer bleary eyed that "sleep's not over yet". Ya he says that!

Soon after poop time, it was puzzle time! Yay yay yipeee! He wouldn't let me sleep after cleaning up. His logic: "I'm done with sleep!" Hah!

Oh to be a child again, and on the other side of the fence.

When the milk of motherly kindness boils over...and singes

There have simply been too many days this past week that I've hated being a mother.
Honestly, don't tell me you haven't had one of those "moments" when you've plain and simple just hated your child. (Ok hating being mom and hating your child are two different things directed at two different people but so intrinsically linked, I don't think you can separate the hatred, specially when you're upset.)
Of course one is so shocked by the thought that you suddenly bring yourself out of it, admonish yourself, say a little prayer to be forgiven for such unimaginable thoughts, and go give your little one a hug.

But that one moment of hatred is intense.
It's triggered most in me when Sonny Boy has his "I want this, I want it now, I want this only and now only...whaaaaaaa baaaaaah" even before I can minimally respond to it. I call this his ziddi avatar, his stubborn  and unreasonable self that takes over his personality every once in a few days. Or as I look back now every few hours in a day.

First I wanted to blame it on his series of illness, his discomfort, his frustration at being confined to the home.
But sometimes I think it's inexcusable. He just starts off without warning, tugs at me, hits me, hits some furniture inevitably in the process...and just won't listen.

My point is if I said no to something, he could THEN cry and protest. The very asking is done wrong, which is so pissing off. I don't expect a two-year-old to be very reasonable, but watching nursery rhymes on DVD all day when I'm home is quite ridiculous and unacceptable.

He refuses his toys, won't play on his own. Will play only if I join him. I thought kids could manage at this age about 20 minutes of play by themselves, at least that's what I remember Dr. Spock's as saying. I have a huge bin of toys for him, then there are books, colours, lots of paper. I even replace old books/toys with new ones so he won't get bored. But no! He must have rhymes, over and over and over again.

There are times when I feel I want to throw him out of the window, make him invisible, make him vanish for a few moments. I feel so guilty having these thoughts. But then I'm glad I have them, because this overwhelming sense of horribleness takes over that I'm being so mean to a small little creature that didn't exactly choose to be here. I brought him here so I better just learn to calm him down.

Then again, I have a problem with all parenting sites that tell you to calm a child using various methods -- distract them with something else (he's crying so loud and clinging to my feet so hard I can't move and he can't hear), be calm, count to 10 or sing (hmmppph if i could be calm i would be world's best mum and hah! sing???!!! i want to scream too). And when you are frustrated and tired after a day's work, a sudden slap delivered on his bottom gets things out of your system and shocks the hell out of the kiddo -- i mean he gives me this "What?you actually it me?!" look and i think he stops crying half out of shock/surprise.

I always think this process is like this huge pot of milk kept on boil. As the milk heats up, it rises and for some time it forms a puffed up creamy cloud on top of the pot (if you're on sim!) but if you're on full flame, it just boils over the top, falls on the flame, singes and smells and sets alarms off in your mind.

10 things that are sure to happen with you and child

Murphy's Law "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong" applies best to situations set around your child and yourself (yeah once you're a mother, it's intrinsically linked).

1. Your child will have that One Big Fall in life. Most probably it will be on his head. And you can be assured it'll happen when you're just out of reach and mostly, when you (The Careless Mother) is around. Never around Daddy. No way!

2. When you have close friends over, your child (whom you've described to friends as a little devil) is sure to be on his best behaviour, proving that Mummy is a big liar and he, an angel. And just when your friends have left the party and are texting you "Whay do you complain so much? He's so cute!" or "He's such an adorable darling" is when he'll throw the week's worst tantrum. Around you the post-celebration mess is waiting to be cleaned up.

3. You are looking forward to a quiet Sunday. And a hectic work week after that. The nanny informs you she's not coming a few days. Emergency. The house-help says she's going to her village for her niece's daughter's ear-piercing ceremony. Your in-laws decide it's a good time to visit. You inevitably fall sick.

4. Your dear darling child has had a running nose most of last week, has thrown up phelgm with food after most meals, and has finally settled down with all the medication you've pumped in. You can almost be assured that just as you're breathing a sigh of relief that he's tided over it. You hear the bursts of fart that herald the loosies.

5. You suddenly feel guilty you havent been paying too much attention to his nutrition. You need to make this most healthy breakfast for the little one. You've put together this multi-veggie upma, raagi porridge, made some mango milkshake. Even if he has some pickings from each of this, you tell yourself, you've done your bit. The little one wakes up with a sunny smile and asks for Maggi.

6. You've told the world that your child's a poor eater. Hardly takes in a few spoonfulls at every meal, and that too after much fussing. But the day your best friend lands home with her baby and you're both feeding them their meal together, that's when your darling will eagerly wolf down all the food -- no protest, no crankiness -- as if you've starved him three whole days. He'll even smile and eat veggies!

7. You've prepared hime for his outing to the restaurant. Told him all about how you're going there to eat, we'll sit on a chair etc etc. He'll land there, scream excitedly "Food! Food!". Keep asking every passer-by for Maggi. Pull down the table mats, throw the spoons and forks below the table, refuse to sit on the high chair provided (though he'll gladly do it at home), stand up on the plush upholstery with his muddy sandals, climb up the table, and eat noodles, string by string with his hands. And clap for himself! Needless to say, yours is the only kid at the restaurant doing it.

8. You're looking forward to a vacation. A short break, really. You think you are getting the little darling ready for life, letting him have a look at the beautiful world outside. He decides it's time to go on strike -- he won't eat, pee or poop on most of the holiday. So instead of relaxing and winding down, you're all wound back up over his sudden withdrawal from routine life...and lack of requisite amount of pee in the diaper.

9. A play date sounds like an exciting opportunity to let your shy guy socialise. You're hoping that your child is as excited as you are. Problem is, most often, you and the other mother are the only folks excited. He decides he's going to pluck all toys from the other kid, scream, and spend most of the pecious "date time" whining. Other kid is on the same wavelenght! By the time you meet again, he's forgotten the kid anyway, and the process starts all over again.


10. You're all set to go to the park. It's a great sunny day. You're even in the mood to pack some picnic lunch. You're all set to go and no surprise dark clouds have gathered in the sky either. You're finally getting dressed after having fought the dear child to get his clothes and diaper on. Ting Tong...it's those cheesy relatives who land at your doorstep and settle down comfortably for a chat.