...and Trisha turned three

I had written this post just before Trisha’s third birthday. But then my laptop crashed and it went for a repair. I forgot about this post till I unearthed it few days back.

Dear Trisha,

You will turn three on 22nd November. Three? Are you kidding me? Can someone tell me where those three years disappeared? I am clueless as I shake my head in disbelief. You are and will always remain.I am loving every moment of seeing you grow up so big so soon. I get awestruck when you say “when I was a small baby’ You already have your childhood (?) memories. You are and will always remain the piece of my heart outside my body, my little sunshine. You are the music in our hearts. Talking about the music these are some of the excerpts of our converstion the other day.

(Mumma singing loudly a recent hit number from APKGK in the car thinking she could give a run for the money to all the saregamapa contestants)

Mumma (loudly): kaise bataoon kyu tujhko chahein…….
Trisha: Mumma it’s not bataoon it’s batayein
Mumma: huh?
Trisha: Kaise batayein kyu tujhko chahein
Mumma : ummm well ok . (sheepish looks are exchanged between mumma and dadda)

When did you become old enough to remember a song and sing it? When did you get old enough to have conversations like these?

You are turning into a lovely little girl who is oh so adorable. I love you so much, your antics, your heart melting smile, your lovely curls, tiny little hands, the way you say “I lub you mumma” Sometimes I am afraid you have mumma’s bad temper.I hope you learn to be in control of your emotions when you grow up.

You are a very sociable child. Your teacher says you have strong likes and dislikes. You are possessive about your friends. You are my mirror image in more than one ways aren’t you? Remember girl you will make friends and lose some . Some will stab you in the back and some will walk besides you through thick and thin. Some may turn into foes while some will love you till eternity for who you are and even for who you are not. Make some mistakes but don’t forget the lessons from those mistakes.

You are all of three and life is calling you .You are already eager to go to the ‘big school’ and wear a school uniform and go in the school bus. I am sure you will be fine but what about mumma? How on earth will she let go of you? She is so not ready.

I want to hold you and cuddle you and kiss you as much as I can. I wish I could freeze all these moments I am spending with you. You are suddenly growing up too fast and soon we will miss your baby talk. How I am going to miss you humming ‘lel light lel light gleen light gleen light’.Like sand through my fingers your childhood is quickly passing through.

Happy birthday my darling daughter. May you always bring us joy and pride.

Love

Mumma

Woman

She is not perfect; never has been, probably never will be. She is silly and she doesn't think about things before she says them. She will say some things that will make you want to strangle her. She will probably hurt you and make more mistakes than you can imagine. She doesn't mean to, but she probably will. Then, she'll apologize.

She will annoy you with the stupid things she does and yet will want you to love her enough to roll your eyes and put up with it. Sometimes she will feel like an idiot for being a klutz. She will want you to catch her when she has her bizarre falls and then laugh with her .She will be as predictable as you can get and then she will surprise you when you least expect it. She will expect you to read between the lines because she is capable of telling from your voice if something is bothering you even without you telling her.

She will want you to listen to the ramblings of her inner child. She is still learning about everything, even if she thinks she already knows it. She has been hurt; sometimes she feels so alone she can't stand it. Other times she's so happy she can't believe it. She loves, laughs, and does her best and does it bigger, better, and more than anyone you'll ever know. She wants to be the woman who made a difference, a woman who changed everything, a woman who gave you a story to tell.

I,Me,Myself

I have realized that I like to write as much as I like to talk about myself. A Narcissist. That’s me.

1. I don’t like to unpack my bags for days simply because I carry memories in it and I don’t wish to part with them soon enough.

2.When I look at people I make up their stories in my mind like how their wives/husbands would be and how their house would be etc.

3. I have long conversations with myself in different voices looking at the mirror

4. I always hum while walking on the road alone

5. I dip the biscuit in the tea or else I don’t enjoy my tea

6. Every time an ambulance passes by, I pray

7. I don’t like Teddy bears.

8.I can’t wink

9.I like to eat ice-cream when it pours heavily

10.I don’t like fruits except mango, banana and chiku

11.I like to smell my food which has caused me much wrath of my mother

12.I am constantly on medication for I am a pandora’s box of ailments :-(

13. I am a drama queen. I like to exaggerate things.

14. I like to believe that good things happen to good people and bad people suffer in hell

15. I suffer from ‘Dyscalculia’ i.e. inability to do Math. It’s a disorder and I am so glad they have a name for it. :-)

Things-to-do before I die list

Start driving

Learn pottery

Complete bharatnatyam dance i left halfway in school and perform ‘Aarangetram’

Learn swimming

Love hopelessly,selflessly and unconditionally

Be non judgemental

Dance in the rain

Make up with a long lost friend

Have washboard abs to be able to wear a bikini

To own at least one Louis Vuitton bag, a pair of Manolo Blahniks and a Valentino number

Walk under the moon light holding hands and feeling like a teenager

Do bungee jumping

Go to Paris

Go fishing

Stay alone for at least a month

Not to lose temper for at least a month

Live migraine free for at least a month

Forgive

Watch back to back movies the whole day

Paint a wall

Learn a new language

Read ‘Bhagvad Gita’

Say sorry to mom and dad for being such a nasty daughter at times

Be genuinely happy for others

Learn to live with greys of life

Being a mother

This one is from my mailbox. I truly loved this one. Since i have nothing to offer from my brain i thought this would do the needful and fill up the pages of my blog until i can no longer withold the voice in my head .

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family.""We're taking a survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more"spontaneous vacations.

"But that is not what I meant at all.I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want herto know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, butbecoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw thats he will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been MYchild?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her! That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder ifanything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mum!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation. I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she would be professionally derailed by motherhood.

She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have touse every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma.That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that rest-room.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a Caesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child.I think she should know that she would fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want herto taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formedin my eyes.

"You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble they're way into this most wonderful of callings.

May you always have in your arms, the one who is in your heart. Amen!

...and everything changed!

I am back with my second post after doing much marketing about my blog with subtle hints ( also unashamedly irritating ).

C:Hey you know I have a blog now. Why don’t you check it out? So how did you find it?

Now nobody is going to tell me on my face that it’s full of crap or how amateurish they find it. But then some habits are just so inherent. That does not make me self obsessive.(I have many other traits that make me one haah). Ok. Let’s move on.

Trisha is having a summer vacation before the summer camp which begins on 4th May (4 more days and it starts… yippee) and while she takes the entire house on ransom, I am furiously typing away in glory.

I am thinking about the way my life has changed since Trisha’s birth. My whole perspective of looking at life has gone a total 360 degree change. Who would have thought a woman like me who was steadily climbing up the corporate ladder to give up a career to be with a new-born and be a full time mother .And to think I wasn’t ever ‘going ga ga over kids’ type. Look at me now. I can just go on and on about Trisha and her milestones, her achievements. her antics. I already think she might go to Yale or Harvard’s. She has the most beautiful curls and she has this perfect set of teeth like her father.(I have two bug teeth alright) and so on.

I love kids now more than ever. I am more sympathetic and empathetic to parents whose kids create a ruckus in the restaurants and I am no more raising my eyebrows and murmuring “what the hell parents are doing while these kids (little monsters)wander around and what type of kids are these little devils?”. This was when I was sans Trisha. Now I actually find the same kids doing the rounds quite cute and ‘active’ and I give a knowing smile to the parents who sometimes give an embarrassed look with a nervous smile.

I am not alone.Joining me in this gamut of emotions is Nitin ;my chocolate eyed husband with sweet smile.He has a great smile.Though he smiles rarely; when he does he does it how! My dil goes hmmmmmm hmmmmmmm. Did I tell you I have a habit of drifting away from a conversation.People who know me would agree. So talking about Nitin, he has turned over a new leaf post Trisha’s birth. N is a man of few words and non-expressive to the core. So much so that one can’t make out whether he is happy or thinking or depressed. He more or less carries the same expression all the time.The man has suddenly become a vibrant person that makes me wide eyed and open mouth (Oh yes I am full of expressions you see. N and I are Yin and Yang)He has become a story teller, a comedian who will make you laugh till your belly hurts.He even manages to give good five expressions now. All of it is exclusively for Trisha of course.

Trisha is totally her Dadda’s girl I must admit. She gives me a close- to- step motherly treatment the moment he steps in. Nowadays, she even admits with that heart- melting smile (Oh!that smile is the culprit .Both father and daughter know that they can do away with anything with THAT smile)that she loves her Dadda more than Mumma. She wants him to feed her lunch or dinner and clings on to him all the time when he is around. And I don’t complain. I love to watch the duo bonding. I love admiring my two most precious people in the world when they are together. When I look at the beaming N holding Trisha,I wonder whether he is the same man who when we decided to perpetuate our gene pool was so reluctant. “Baby, are you sure we are ready for it? I would be such a big change” he had said. I say it surely was.It changed our world.It changed even the kind of people we both were. It instilled in us the emotions we never knew existed before. Thank you my child and God bless you.

My first post :-)

I am finally up with my own blog. Can you believe? MY OWN BLOG. I am so excited. This blog shall be my soundboard . My thoughts,my feelings towards life and nuances of upbringing my 2.5 year old daughter. Nitin always insists on specifying her age correctly. I would carelessly say two and a half year but he corrects me.She is precisely two years and five months old.

Boy wasn’t it just sometime ago that I was hugely pregnant and anxiously waiting for the baby’s arrival. And then there she was. Our gorgeous little angel.On the same day someone else was born too.The mother. ME. I felt on top of the world. God had bestowed on me the power to influence one precious life.With great power comes great responsibility (spiderman ...spederman ...friendly neighbourhood spiderman).The motherhood reveals your ability (and inability) for patience, to take responsibilities and make sacrifices. It has its highs and lows, challenges, conflicts, resistance.Bouts of guilt makes way too. In some strange way I feel responsible for whatever wrong she does or happens to her.

I often wonder how it would be when she gets out of reciting nursery rhymes and playing with dolls and kitchen sets .Will I be a super mom like my mom? Will I be a strict mom? A friendly mom? An over friendly mom? A grumpy mom? An intruding mom? Only time will tell. I'm looking forward for those challenges and changes. With every passing day as Trisha grows a day older her mumma grows a day older too. In spite of all the anxiety, challenges and hardships involved, I am loving every single moment of my life.