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....

Tagged: Five things motherhood/parenthood has taught me

Aparna of Adventures In Mommyland tagged me and threw this challenge in my face and others' -- to list five things we've learnt from motherhood (parenthood, I'm adding, so that dads don't feel left out). Two more friends and mommy bloggers she tagged have given enthusiastic responses:
Uma of My Musings has already posted
Aparna of Life As a Mom also has!! (enthu cutlets all)
So I must hurry up and rustle up my own and not bore you guys ;-)


There are, as all mommy bloggers point out, SO MANY things we learn. Here's hoping I can figure five out to share.

1. Your child makes sure you acknowledge so many things/people you would have otherwise ignored -- You life is divided into perspectives pre-parenthood, and post-child (PR and PC). Your eyes look at every single thing in the world, even the most simplest, in a complicated way.
I mean who would have thought that leaving a knife on the dining table casually after cutting an apple can be dangerous- in your heydays as a couple you always did it. Who would have thought little people need you to change your furniture so they don't bump their heads? Who would have thought that chatty aunt you didn't really like would turn out to be your child's best play companion? Who would have thought you will be so nanny-dependent that you want to frame their photos and pray to them? Who would have thought you would decide a vacation spot after checking if there's a swing and slide around and if they have curd-rice on offer!

2. That there can be many million kinds of mothers -- the beating kind, the yelling kind, the showering-with-love-and-food kind, the cribbing kind (me me me), the rational kind, the unreasonable kind, the very practical kind, the lost kind, the I'm-in-charge-and-everything-is-fine kind, my-kid's-the-centre-of-my-universe kind,  --  the list is endless. And very often we are all these or some of these at various challenging stages of our child. But one factor unites us all in purpose -- our child.

3. That you must make decisions for your child (you can't always leave these decisions to husband/grandparents and hope you can blame them later in life), be responsible for them, be answerable to the world about them, seem like you know everything, seek advise like you know nothing, be able to ignore advise, and hope and pray frantically that you did things right for that one being you added to this world. Even if it meant you stuck out like a sore thumb among other "better" mothers who got it right "better".

4. The acceptance that "comparison" is going to be the hallmark of your life from the day your child is born -- starting with whether your child's nose looks like your grandfather's or hubby's aunt's, to was he breast-fed or bottle-fed, to comparing your parenting styles with your parents', which school does neighbour's cousin's child go to, what are you doing for your child's birthday this year, which is your kid's favourite TV show, does he eat vegetables --ayyoo mine just doesn't etc. And this is just the BEGINNING.  

5. It has opened my eyes to my many million limitations -- your way of dealing with your child, really is a good way of figuring out your own faults -- yes, our abilities too -- but those we are far more willing to point out to, accept and bask in the glory of. It is your failings that your child holds a mirror to. And I'm not complaining about it or making it a negative mark -- but honestly, where else will you find such a good critic, who'll show you your faults, not in malice, but in all innocence, without ever pointing fingers at you, but with a warm smile and hug?

Hmm now to tag some others to join in and be challenged:
I tag
Garima (who's been tagged already, but I hope two tags means more pressure to write fast!)
Spicy Sweet (my new friend on this blog)
Crabby Mommy (whom I haven't said hello to in a while)
Naveen Bachwani (I've added a doting dad, to be fair and not make it an all-mom list) 

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!!!

Why do we parents worry so much about our children's education?

I'm stumped with Sonny Boy. Today was his first day at "summer camp". His playhome is having about two hours of it spread over 15 days, so I said why not? It's his familiar environment, his friends will be around, plus some new kids...he'll get to do something in a group and will be IN THE COMPANY OF KIDS
But he went today kicking and screaming!!!

Last night, while I was trying to get him excited/accepting of summer camp, he clearly told me he does not want to go to this school again! He said he doesn't want the same teachers and the same school. He wants "hosa" (new) school. Then added he wants to go to a "big children's school". Jeeez...just when I had resolved that he'll continue in this playhome. I've been trying to ask him what he doesn't like about the place, why he won't go....I've done this before but with no great results. But his NO last night was vociferous.

So I'm in a dilemma again. Must I listen to him? Does it mean anything? Or is it just a general refusal to go to school leaving behind parents/grandparents?If I change playschool now, will he be happy? If I give in now and change school, will he ask for a change if he takes a dislike to that new place? aaargh it's frustrating.

How many of us really go through so much thinking about which school to put our kids in. I was chatting with my dad and figured when I needed to be put in school as a kid, they were clear of two things -- it had to be a girls' school and a convent at that, because, well, a "convent education" was good! It had to be nearby and affordable. So they put me in the neighbourhood convent where my older cousin sis went! That's it. It was as simple as that! My dad laughs and says they never enquired whether it was ICSE/SSLC. "I had no clue about all that" dad said. Even now, as we discuss Sonny Boy's education, my dad has simply decided he'll go to the nearest/most affordable school. That's it.

And here I am letting my brain explode worrying:
1. ICSE/CBSE/SSLC?
2. Does the school only stress on academics or co-curricular activities also of importance to them?
3 All boy's/co-ed?
4. criteria: nearby/good school (even if it's far off?)
5. mainstream/alternate?
6. normal-old-time-conventional/hep-with-it-modern-day
7. I worry sick if the school has a playground -- most don't!

I worry about sending him to "big" schools where kids of rich parents come, but where the "exposure" and "opportunities" are better. We're by no means affluent, and am scared if kid demands the privileges his peers have. I know that's not the point of school. But these are things that come along with school, and boy! Have i heard some horror stories. Will alternate schooling give him a privileged edge, a chip on the shoulder....what? what?

But then, am I curbing his aspirations by putting him in a school where these things don't matter much. What if he turns back at me when he grows up and asks why didn't you put me in school A/school B. Or worse still what if he asks him why I didn't give him a "better" education/opportunity?

I was chatting with my aunt's friend (a teacher for over 20 years), and asked her if her kids ever came back and asked her why she sent them to the neighbourhood school. She said yes. Her son did feel disappointed that he didn't have the confidence, neither the English-speaking skills that his friends from other "big schools" had when he went to college... he was disappointed but she pointed out that he was doing as well as the "other" kids and that he had moved ahead based on his own talent.

I'm just saying the decision making for us as parents has gotten so much more harder -- with more choice.
Like all things that leave us confused with choice, so does our children's education.

 And then again, me and Hubby wonder -- what's the purpose of all this education?  In the race of life, it's to get the marks to get into college. Then "job". Really...but the human interactions, the people around at this time of life, the sense of achievement/learning leave such a crucial impact on their life, it's hard not to worry.

Then there's the pressure not to put pressure on the child! Yeah...now it's that. No I'm joking. But I really don't want him to bury his face in books, doing homework and "mugging" texts all the while.

What do I want from his schooling? That's a question I'm still unable to answer for myself. I mean, if i could, then I would know for sure where I want to enroll him. Even my own expectations of the education system is complex i guess, but what it has to offer is equally complex...

I know I'm rambling and just going directionless...but then that's the point of my blog, right? What my head is crammed with i put down here because I can't drive everyone crazy with my anxieties

Admission admission: I didn't do it!!!

So I'm in an ugly situation. Had a fight with the husband today -- over Sonny Boy's "school admission".
Ok, so he's 2.8. He's going to playschool.

While I largely want him to be in an informal playschool set up a while longer, everyone around me is freaking me out about "putting him into school" and with that dreaded word "admission". My dad went with a  vengeance to a nearby school today (because neither hubby nor I were showing any interest) and of course, admission is frozen for 2011 nursery already! I mean, surprise surprise! And he gave me the meanest looks ever and told me in not so few words that I wasn't cariong enough for Sonny's education.

I really don't want him to go to school. I protest. But it seems the world is differently wired. I'm "already late" and don't stand a chance in the flood of education. If I don't put him in nursery, nobody's going to give him admission in first standard?!! There are "feeder schools" and my Sonny's isn't one of them. Sonny's playschool isn't even the competitive sort....which is why I think I put him there in thge first place. God! I'm going around in circles again...

Ok my research has been abysmal. I havent given it enough time and seriousness.

I have also posted all this on Parentree (a more sober un-cribbing version) because parents there seem to know everything/keep track and are always helpful and forthcoming with advise. I hope to post any replies here too, so that it's of help to any other parent who's in a similar situation (not that any other parent can be as muddled as I am now).

I'm feeling guilty. My Sonny's lost a year? Does that mean anything at this age? Am I taking all this too casually? Or is my brain addled with ignorance and nothingness?

After all no one's going to come drop off a seat at my doorstep...hahahah it's way far off the mark. I'll probably go about begging, trying to use "influence", ugh , and doing what not....FOR ADMISSION!

Snap jack back and a possible biopsy!

I have to keep telling myself life will get better. Or I might just forget that.
I'm right now lying on my back and typing out this post with hubby's laptop at an odd angle to my stomach and my thigh. I've a bad lower back spasm. Something i've had before and had been warned might happen again if i'm not careful. Such warnings swim in the back of your mind for very few days after the attack.Then you're back to bending over the wrong way because that's what comes very naturally. So does the pain.

My Sonny Boy's nanny isn't back at work yet. She's not taking my calls on her cellphone, neither is she returning them. That's a bad bad sign. Aunt's surgery next week and then my parents have taken it upon themselves to offer her post-operative care at their home. It's going  be be a month of hell for them. Feeling so bad for them and helpless. If nanny doesn't return, my resignation chances look clearer.

My parents have taken ill, along with Sonny. If there's a name to my degree of frustration, I don't know of it.
Sonny is so bad with a cough, congestion, runny nose and its happening all over again, over and over again. He's hardly been to playschool this whole month. Bangalore's weather is playing truant. I think it's showing -- teh effects of climate change.

Immunity -- that really gets me worried and talking all the time. It's something I have very little of and so does Sonny, I suppose.
I'm now being advised to take and give him septulin supplements, iron tonics etc etc.
If there is something that worries a mother, it has to be her child's illness -- whatever it is, and whatever degree it is.
I'm just blabbering. I've been at home, hardly have anyone to talk to, am feeling like shit.

Moreover, I had a harrowing week of breast swelling and inflammation -- something the doctors have, after an ultrasound scan, diagnosed as an infection -- but if it doesn't come down by Tuesday I might need a biopsy. I'm dreading it. I'm a very filmi person. As soon as doc said that, my mind did a flash forward. What if it's cancer? What if I die? What happens to Sonny? What are the things I want to do before I die?Suddenly my priorities seemed different. Top among them, I realised was to spend time with Sonny and other family members. Actually been so depressed and worried have been refusing to go to work. And snapping my back came as a great excuse -- though it only means I have more time on my back for gory imagination and more pain (and medication) than I can already handle. At least the back took the attention away from the boobs, was hubby's take on it all. Oh yeah, maybe that was the plan.

Right now doing a supine posting, with Sonny Boy's blocked rhythmic breathing for bedside company.

 

Quit to become a SAHM: weighing the pros and cons

My mind is right now so beautifully messed up. I want to call it quits on my almost 11-year-old career.
I don't want to also, because I'm "-" this close to the top. The money's decent. And i need them both -- the sanity of the job and the value of the money, with a loan on our heads.

BUT. And this is the BIG BUT. My folks, with whom I leave Sonny Boy, along with the assistance of a part-time Nanny, aren't able to take it any more.

Ok it' a bad patch. The Nanny's been on leave almost a week now because she's unwell, so my parents are FREAKING.

They are aged, they aren't exactly in the best of health, and they are sounding like they need a break from Sonny Boy.

My mom had a meltdown this morning. She said it's all just too much for her. Understandable. She has a lot of physical constraints.

I don't want to leave Sonny Boy at a baby-sitting setup right through the day. That, I'm very sure about.

I'm tired of searching for new nannies -- they are all ultimately the same -- they are never around when you most need them, go off on long leave often, and keep asking for a hike in pay. No amount of pampering them pays off in the long-term relationship. It all one day boils down to money.

But I just can't imagine myself, after 11 years of financial independence, asking the husband for money for every single thing. My savings are minimal and I will have to ask. Very tough thing to do, when you have a big beautifully puffed up ego.

Workaholic that I am, will I be satisfied with running home? Forget satisfied, will I be able to do all the housework at all? Honestly, office work is way less than housework. At home, there's always something constantly to be done. Even when everything's done. It's tiresome, there's no pay, no bonus, no performance-incentive, no perks, aaarrrhgghh.

AAAAAAARGGGHHHH. I need some sane SWOT analysis of my situation. And knowing myself, I'll paint such a bad picture of being a SAHM, I'll refuse to quit.

Dilemmas, dilemmas....more dilemmas. With each day, I'm becoming more inclined to quit.

At what price should I continue working? My parents are unhappy (but cover it up with a smiling mask), my kid is tied down to the house because they can't move around much. I'm feeling guilty about both. I want Sonny Boy to change his routine; parents won't agree. I can't force them. All this will change if I simply hand in my resignation.

But I can't really get back to work after a break. The industry is mean to people who call it quits.

Should i, shouldn't I? Can I? Will I? Should I? Ufffff

I look out the window and it's all grey and cold.

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.

Be local, go global or transform into glocal?

I'm a frog in the well. Cushioned and protected most of my life, I've never really been "out there", "on my own" kind of stuff. It's been a fairly protected (sometimes overprotected) life I think.

So when it comes to Sonny Boy, I'm wondering what to do. His life is already like that. And I dread to think his life will be like mine.

It's not too bad. But it's every mother's bounden duty to worry about all sorts of things, right? Otherwise how do you live up that image of "mom"?

I was born in a hospital not more than half-kilometre from my grandparent's place. Then we moved into the ancestral property when I was about four or five. I've lived there ever since. My school, which was like LKG to Class 10, was  about 1.5 kilometres from home. College was the first time in my life where I stepped beyond that three kilometre radius, so to speak, on a regular everyday basis. PG was another one kilometre further!!!
My first workplace was within the same compound as my PG college! Hah, yeah laugh at me.
My second job took me another three kilometres further and my third job brought me back to about seven kilometres from home!
Jeez, after marriage, I moved four kilometres away from my folks, and now I'm back to being half-a-kilometre from them.

Even as I write it, I realise I can measure my life in kilometres! I mean, people change cities, countries, go out, move away, go live in hostels, in independent pads -- God! most of my life's over and I've had none of it.

Sonny Boy, I fear will also be the same. His playschool is across the road from my parents'. Planning to admit him in a school later, which is down the road. By the time he's in college he can decide (and his interests and marks can) where he'll be. Then It's his life, his call.

All logic points out that this is how it should be -- you go to a neighbouring school to avoid making young children travel long distances. It's safe for them, less worrisome for you. You become rooted in a neighbourhood and develop a strong sense of community, a pride in it, and therefore are more involved in the development of the place around you.

There's also that compelling option of of being "glocal" in nature (which many of us today are) -- where you're connected with the world, know what's happening, are in with it, are imbibing from a variety of  people and tapping into multiple resources, and yet, choose to be in your own community and give back to it in your own way, without causing a brain drain and resource drain.

Yet, there's life, calling out to you, beckoning. To come savour new experiences. And you're choosing to nod your head, and choose the cosy comfort of familiarity. Now, the thought of moving to a new city or country to start a new life honestly scares the hell out of me. There's a complacency and a smug belief that despite being home, I know everything. It's strange, this feeling. It's disconcerting.

And these days I think of it too much, worry about it too much. How much do we deny ourselves? How much of our life is our own choosing? And what do we learn or gain from it all at the end?

PS: Dear Rama, thanks for the wake-up call. Needed it. I know I haven't been posting regularly. There's been travel, attending a yoga retreat (my next post!), plumbing issues in the house (and much plumber chasing), a travelling job-changing husband to deal with, and well...an increase in responsibilities at work. Of course, add to that plain ol' laziness to blog! But now that I've done it -- written this post -- I'm feeling better and energetic. Good to be back. Thanks for that much needed pinch :-)

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....

Travelling mom. Baby at home: any tips?

Girls, ladies, friends and mommy bloggers
Lend me your ears, and then your suggestions.

I need to travel next weekend on work. I was jolly excited, thinking a weekend off on the bahana of work was going to be great. Turns out I'll be away three nights and almost four days. Now that's long. And guilt is slowly gnawing into me.

The only time Sonny Boy has been away from me was the last time i travelled on work -- it was 24 hours, one noon to the next. Turned out decent. Grandpa and dad kept him adequately occupied. And I wasn't too far off. Could have driven back if the situation was out-of-control.

While I'm celebrating the business-and-pleasure trip, I can't help but worry about how the little fellow will manage... of course he'll be staying with his grandparents and father. Yet, my ego would like me to believe he can't really be happy without me :-) And I'm getting paranoid (like any mom does) wondering "What if..." This time round, there's no playschool on those days either. I'm worrying for my parents too. They might just get too exhausted. Ugh!

Last time around, I had told him I'm going to be away and that he'll have to sleep with grandpa and all that jazz. He did well, asking for me only in the morning while getting ready for playschool.

So now I'm asking any experienced working mom (or non-working) who's left baby behind for this kind of time when kid is aged two. PLEASE only tell me of positive experiences. And tell me if there are any tactics to keep his mind off me. I should be kind of preparing him, telling him I'll be away and all that right?
Just reassure me that he'll not even think of me coz he'll be busy playing or something.
Pleaaaaaaase, pretty please.

I'm a bit confused. Everyone I speak to asks in shock "You're leaving your baby and going?" I mean, I can't take him to the office overseas conference! And this time I can't rush back in a jiffy. I can speak for some time over the phone every day. Ooooh it's all sounding so bad now, now that I've put it down in print. Feeling like bad chee-chee mamma.

I will really appreciate help. Anyone who writes in gets virtual hugs, kisses and tons of thankful prayers.

Strategies to avoid sleep: A two-year-old's tactics

1. Pull out a set of puzzles and scatter them quickly on the floor. Then look distraught that all the pieces are...oh-my-god mixed up! Whaaaaa "Mummy let's seperate them!"
2. Oh my God it's time for bed? Lemme think...ummm "Mummy, kakka!" Mummy runs, gets potty. Sonny Boy spends at least 20 minutes saying "It's coming it's still coming..." and while we wait for the poop to arrive, we sing rhymes. In teh bathroom, it's the perfect time to play with water. Get clothes wet. It take mummy more minutes to change clothes then.
3. "Mummy keep the milk coupon." Then run away to the kitchen and run into the apartment foyer as soon as door is opened to keep milk bag with coupon.
4. "Daddy let's play dash-dash". Daddy is of course pleased son's asking him to play with him. He will play.
5. "I want to listen to music...."
6. "Let's read a story book...now"
7. If the room lights are switched off, "We'll go out...daddy's watching TV!"
8. Once we get past all this and the lights are finally out, and he's in bed, "Mummy I want water." Better still, "Mummy I want warm water...I'll come with you to the kitchen."
Wha?????

Fatherhood V/s Motherhood - The balance always tilts

Warning: This post is long. I'm feeling angsty and I've cried last night.

Just yesterday, I read this article (I've linked to it from Slate magazine - do read the dad's account) that I found on Technorati and was just feeling so good and miserable in turns. Good, that here are dads in Sweden who have the privilege of a year-and-half off on paternity leave (with pay) while my workplace even grudged me six months of maternity leave.

When I was pregnant, I surfed the Net and read of how countries like France, UK have a great cushioning system for women who have babies -- benefits, long paid leave, money, and post-delivery recovery therapy and all that jazz -- I was envious. I was at that time haggling with office and negotiating how long I get to take off. Without getting fired.

And then there was the husband, whose company gave him two weeks of paternity leave. I was overjoyed. From what I knew, most workplaces in India don't have a paternity leave policy. Two weeks it would be, I decided -- good for him to get to know the reality of raising the teeny-weeny baby. Hah! He was back in office after 10 days, saying "I have some important work". And once he went back to work, he couldn't stay nights with me (I was at mom's) because if he couldn't sleep at night, he couldn't work in the morning.

Hah! (Ya one more big hah!) Because even if I was up most of the night feeding the brat and trying to lull his bawling, I had to be up in the morning doing the same. And my mum couldn't particularly help in the matter. And poor groggy eyed dad would take over in the wee hours of the morning, holding the wide awake Sonny Boy. Days went by as if my sole purpose in life was to feed; "cow duty" as my friend tacitly put it.

So there I was, handling the waily Sonny Boy all by myself through the night (he wouldn't sleep more than 1.5 hours at a stretch; and he would BF for 1.5 hours when he would wake up!!!) The few times during the day when he would sleep for more than two hours at a stretch, I would use to bathe, eat, watch a few minutes of TV and just as I would think, "I'll catch a few winks", Sonny was up and bawling again.

So I cursed and cursed and cursed husband dear. And generally anybody (visitors and relatives) who asked me in the morning "Did he sleep well last night? Did he let you sleep?" They seemed most sadistic, these people.

Anyway, I'm digressing.

The point is, after I read this article yesterday, I went to my mom's place last evening. Husband said "Let's wind up here fast and go home early. I have some work." (On the way back from work we pick up Sonny from Mom's). As soon as we arrived, Husband, as usual, settled himself on the sofa, watching TV. Sonny boy welcomed me with a session of potty. I washed him, washed potty, got his clothes on (it's an exercise in futility as he hates wearing his clothes back on after potty).

I had to pack up his stuff for next day's playschool (it all comes to mom's from the school but he leaves home from our apartment in the morn, so logistics, logistics.)

All this while, Husband continued watching TV. Now, if I ask him to do this or that, I'm the nag. If I don't ask him to do this or that he won't do it because he says "You should tell me and I'll do it. I cant know on my own what to do"!!! So when he motioned to the clock in between all this to indicate that we were late, I lost it.

I blew up like a big bad volcano and told him that if he doesn't get off his ass to wash his son's bum, or even pack his son's shoes and bag, how the eff were we going to go on time? Of course he was offended. What is it they say? Offence is the best form of defence.

How come, I have to, despite having almost equally long house of work, come back home and on some sort of remote control mode go about the packing, going home, heating food, feeding business, while it doesn't occur to him he can very well do the same? What reaction would I have got if I had just sat down with a magazine to unwind, instead of doing all that I did?

And I went home and wept like silly. All the while thinking of dads in Sweden who pack lunches, take the kids to park, take them in the stroller play with them -- all on their own and all consistently for months together. This doing things voluntarily and consistently, from the heart for your own child is not my man's thing, I'm beginning to believe. (Moreover I had also read a blog by this Indian dad blogger Naveen Bachwani who seems so clued into his fatherhood mode and has even converted his blog into a book! So it only rubbed in the salt deeper into my wounds.)

I'm not wanting to bracket all men together, but the Indian male psyche is tuned to an approach towards fatherhood, where they think what they should really do is thump their chest and show off their son to all and sundry. Or offer to watch the child a day (when he already has a holiday) so wife can spend some "me" time or girl time with friends, and then go around bragging about it. Or use it in every argument in future about "helping raise the baby", saying "Don't i stay with him on saturdays?" or some such. Again, I'm putting my disclaimer here. Not all Indian men may be like that.

Just my luck that I'm stuck with one. And all the "nice" dads i see happen to be friends' husbands.

Ok after all this rambling and venting all I'm trying to say is look at the difference -- in approach to fatherhood. Look at the kind of different role expectations men seem to have of "us" and "them". At the end, both of us together are supposed to be "parents" isn't it? But why then, this sort of dramatic imbalance in roles?

Doffing my hat to stay-at-home mums

Honestly, how do you do it? It's a plain simple question. Please don't read any meanness into it.

I'm quite a workaholic and in my 10-year career I must have taken a max of 10 days off every year for some sort of "enjoyment". Most of my leave gets gobbled up by sickness.

Sonny Boy's bout of chicken pox has grounded me, and poor him of course, for almost a week now. Not easy for me. Not easy for him either. Specially so, since I haven't stepped out of the less than 1,000 sq apartment in all these days, except one. And that has a disastrous effect on me. I'm feeling like a caged animal, puffing and huffing and walking up and down my cage in rage. My wings have been clipped. My feet tied. It's just that I'm so used to being away from home for at least seven hours a day for the last 10 years of my life! Of course I can at least vent all this here.

Poor Sonny is taking it out in tantrums. Understandable. I mean what kid would want to be in a confined space? But for his sake and for other's, we must be isolated :-(.

Which brings me to admire stay at home mums or SAHM. Wow! It must be crazy, to be doing so much work (that goes unappreciated mostly I think), and to be taken for granted. Hubby now comes from office and expects me to make tea, because I've been home all day anyway. Else, we would both get back from work after having stopped for a quick chai somewhere on the way.

I find it difficult not to have people to talk to. Yes, the phone is there, the Internet is there. But I crave humans like vampires crave blood. Face to face interaction. I crave to write. I crave to speak and be heard.
I don't think I'll get back to work another two days and the thought is making me morbid with fear. I've realised I have a fear of staying home.

I'm making extra food, because I'm home and it's like I feel obliged that because I'm home, I must pitch in with that little extra effort in the kitchen. Uff...I'm sounding all messed up.

I'm also getting worried because I'm worrying so much about me, and so little about Sonny, who, in fact, is in far more a mess. He can't meet grandpa, he cant walk in grandpa's garden -- two things he most loves.  feel terrible for him.

I found my mother selfish when, once, soon after i forced her to retire after having worked well over 30 years, she turned around one day and told me i had robbed her of as life. Now i understand what she means. I was a student then, and hadn't a clue about the like of a working woman.

There's so much to do at home, so much to constantly keep doing. When I'm at work, I switch off the home button. But at home you can never do that. I've hardly got to see any TV or read books I've been longing to read. I have no time to myself.If that's the life of a SAHM, god, I don't want it. (Again no offence meant to such mothers. My respect for you has gone up several thousand notches this past week.)

I'm bored, almost depressed, dying to go out, shop, eat at a restaurant, just chat with ol friends...even colleagues will do ......is anyone out there?????

Why was I raised like a daughter-son, only to be expected to behave like a daughter?

It's strange, the way I'm feeling these days.

I am an only child. That in itself says a lot about me to a lot of people.
My parents let me have such a great life -- they let me make all the big decisions in my life, I had my own room on the terrace with an independent entrance when i was in high school (can you imagine?!), i was riding the bicycle to school when i was ready...you know.


I always was the centre of all attention. I lazed on the sofa watching TV or reading and things were brought to me. I was pampered silly. I was taken on lovely vacations, i was bought things. I decided what clothes i got on my birthday and what clothes i got on my parents' birthdays. I WAS BOSS.


I got to choose my career, my husband, ....i mean almost everything i wanted i had it before i could say yes. My dad even bought me a car when i graduated! And i didn't even want one.


And now, I'm expected to naturally be so responsible, running my house smooth as silk, juggling my career, hosting parties, taking leave for poojas, taking ma-in-law shopping, keeping tracks if parents are going for their blood tests. I'm expected to keep tabs if things are there in the fridge, keep a tab on all groceries, stock up when husband comes back into town, keep tab of his vaccinations and doctor's appointments, clean the floor of crayons, lock the windows when hubby goes out of town (i run away to mom's!), know which medicine to give Sonny Boy for what, always cut his nails, tackle his tantrums, ....jeez. These are things i never did.


How am i expected to make this transformation so easily, like it's the only natural thing to do. In fact I've my older sisters (cousins) have always preached: "Necessity is the mother of invention...when the pressure falls on your head, you'll do it all." I mean, why do WE have to? We women?


Why can't men also easily make these transitions? It's made out to be like we have no choice but they have. It's ok if my husband still throws wet towels on the bed, but not if I did it. NO SIR. then i would be setting a bad example for the child, and who will pick up after me anyway? It's ok for him to come home straight from work and plonk in front of the TV, but I have to first run to the kitchen, put out the food, get dinner going?


A man can pick up his life at any point and at at any time and just move on. While i have plodded through pregnancy, delivery, post-partum, motherhood and working mom, husband just gets to live the life of a man. Life's unfair. So what's new?


But then, why raise me like a son? Really? Only to be reminded by the people and things around me at the end of the day that I'm after all expected to be just the daughter, and not the daughter-son I was raised to be?



PS: My dad was so busy celebrating his grandson's birthday he even FORGOT to wish me on my birthday.

Isn't it time for the second? No?!! Tch tch...

Dear S's second birthday is coming up and it's that point in my life when one more BIG question is thrown, very casually, in my face. Very often.
"So when's your next baby coming?" or "Now that he's two, don't you think he needs company?" Or simply "Oh you must have two kids...look at me." Or "My second one arrived just in time for my first baby's second birthday."
It's all about timing. Keep the distance. Your two years are up. Time to face the nosy relatives.
I'd love for Sonny Boy to have company. And not have teh fairly lonely life I've had. I'd love for him to have someone to grow up with, to play with, to share his joys and sorrows, his toys, his smiles.....oooh yes. I'd love for all that to happen. But the kid must just automatically take care of herself. Ya howwwl as much as you want. Flare your nostrils. Grunt at my obnoxiousness. But I'm game for a second for very selfish reasons, but honestly have no energy to care for her. Which is why I can't have her.
Her, I say. That's another reason. If I ever EVER have a second, it has to be a girl. And since God gives me no guarantees on that, I'm taking no chances. I'm going mad with one boy. Two will ensure I lose even that tiny bit of sanity left in me.
But i like the nerve of relatives who just assume I'll have a second. "Why not?" is scathingly whipped out in my face when I smile and try to say "No, I'm not having another." Like it's a sin. No offence meant to mothers of two, three, or more children. In fact the more number of kids you have, I worship you so many times more because i don't have the fortitude for it.
Some pity me in response. Most start off on their glorious (or rather smooth) experience of the second. They reassurinly tell me that THIS ONE will be easy because you've been through it all(yeah right...I'm not getting tricked again!)

But if I, the mother, is unwilling , because I'll fail to giver her my best-est, I don't think it's anybody's bsuiness to worry for me and for my son.
I wouldn't like to give someone whom I bring into this world anything but my best.

How mothers can be frutsrating

First -- I'm a mother, yes. But that can't stop me frm cribbing about my mom.

Two -- There's some time at least before Sonny Boy grows up to crib about me. That can surely wait.

Three -- I love my mom. And without her, I wouldn't even be (not just in the "given birth to me sense". I mean in a larger all-encompassing sense.) I wouldn't be able to work without her now for sure. I couldn't have asked for a safer mommy-in-charge arrangement for my li'l one, with her supervising the nanny...

...but mothers being mothers, they want to mother you all their life.

The other day the husband and I were having a conversation about some logistics for the next day, to attend a ceremony. Mom, who was hanging around, had to tell us what to do, even before husband had replied.

She always does that -- tells me what I should do, specially when I don't ask for her advise. But when I do ask her (like when I could easily do with a second opinion or genuinely feel lost and need guidance), she turns around and says "Do whatever you want to..." And that's the end of the conversation.

She can be soooooo frustrating sometimes, when she treats looking after her grandson liek a chore. All responibilities are strictly to be stuck to. She will not feed him dinner at any cost -- unless I'm really late and have no hopes of gettin home even by his late-est dinner time, and have informed her well in time. And she'll do it muttering a hundered things under her breath. And the moment I land at home, it's like "Here, take your boy's dinner" ...an almost "My time's up" look and she vanishes into the receses of the house.

I agree she's old, physically not really up to coaxing the brat to eat at a time when she's itching to just hit the bed. But what the hell, my grandmom did it for her. My mum went to the movies, attended weddings, and had a full-time job all because grandma took care of me.

So I expect the same from her for my baby. But then I guess I'm being unreasonable. My grandmom was much younger...but i can't be blamed for that too.

And that's where the paradox in the Indian family system lies -- it's great to have a support system you can totally fall back on, but in always falling back on that family, you never become independent.

In fact you're so dependent on it, you can't survive without it. Take that family away and you struggle to cope. You're lost.

Uneasy calm that suffocates me

I've been troubled the last two days by a report I read in the papers of a 14-year-old girl in Ramanathapuram delivering a baby in her school toilet, abandoning the baby, and going away home.

It's just disturbing when you hear of/read such things. Teenage pregnancies are on the rise, the media always tells us. It always triggers discussions on TV with sociologists and psychologists.

And then it happens all over again with another girl. There's an uneasy calm and clinical distance with which all this is handled. By media largely. By schools and parents even, maybe.

Doesn't such news always send a chill down your spine? It' something you take at a personal level. You may be appalled, scandalised, you may sympathise, empathise, scorn, ridicule -- all depending on your worldview and experience.

It's left me very confused, sad, and uneasy. It says so much about us as people. About our society and times. There are so many questions to be raised. I'm only scratching at the surface. Because I can't really figure out the entire chain of responsibility, lack of awareness, an attitude issue, women's health issues, mental state of being, assumptions, presumptions, blame-game -- and a gamut of so much more it involves.

What was the 14-year-old thinking? How did she go through pregnancy without letting anyone know? What was going on in her mind those nine months? Did she know what she was going through? What about the boy who got her pregnant? Will anyone talk about him? Talk to him?

Then again, it's easy to blame free sex, teenage promiscuity, lack of parental supervision, lack of knowledge of contraceptives and so many other things. ("Juno" was such a romanticised take on something like this.)

But ultimately what worries me is the girl. What would her life have been like while carrying the baby? And what happens now, now that she's been "discovered"?

What will her attitude be in future, if she has a baby again? Will she? What happens to the baby? Questions, questions. More questions.

I'm uneasy and quasy as I think over this, over and over again. Of a chubby girl who supposedly hid her entire pregnancy under the garb of being "chubby", of delivering in the school toilet and cutting the umbilical cord with a shard of glass she had brought...of just walking away from it all.

And here we are treating motherhood like a totally different ballgame.

Mere paas maa hai

RANDOM THOUGHT

Was just wondering... we are much influenced by our Hindi cinema, its actors and dialogues.

We are from the land where "Mere paas maa hai" is a dialogue that says a thousand things in that one sentence. (It can't be translated into English. It's contextual and loaded with connotations. But roughly transliterated, when one says "What have you in life?" the answer is "I have a mother.")
It means so many complex things to so many people. So much can be read into it. It's so much a part of our psyche that it's used as an advertising pitch. If someone says that, they are saying a lot.

But the world of Hindi cinema, usages in language, our social structure are all so patriarchal, I was just wondering what would happen if we swap parent roles in Hindi film dialogue/everyday usage.

What would have been the impact if Shashi Kapoor had said in Deewar: "Mere paas baap hai"
What if people, when they ask in scorn said: "Tere maa ka road hai kya?" How come that sense of ownership comes as "Road tere baap ka hai kya?"

Or, if on Vijay's hands (again Deewar) were tattooed the words :"Meri maa chor hai" instead of "Mera baap chor hai". History would have changed.

I'm not really making sense am I? As i said, just some random thoughts.