How to Dress like a Mommy Once your Daughter turns Teen

It wasn’t too long ago when I had a conversation with a friend about the clothes I wear; we would meet often at a club, restaurant or a party and she’d comment on how well I carried what I wore “at my age”; which simply meant, early 40s, not a thin woman by any standards, and definitely not shy.

A short tight skirt has been a standard fixture in my wardrobe since I was 16 years old. I love my skirts – and while the midriff has become fleshier as I have advanced in age, I work very hard to keep the butt and legs in shape.

My children (daughter in particular) were used to seeing mommy in such clothes when they were younger. I maintained decorum and never wore a skirt to school, but could never wear kurtis as most mothers do at school events. Back then, my daughter would show me off. “My friends love you because you’re so cool,” she’d say. “Their mothers don’t dress like you, mama.”

But all that changed when she turned 14 and suddenly became aware of what ‘mommy wore’.

Suddenly I was dressing too loud, too bold and ‘not my age’. My distressed jeans raised eyebrows (not in appreciation, let me quickly clarify), and so did dresses and skirts. Seeing my teen’s reactions, I began dressing down and tried hard to change my wardrobe to start dressing ‘like a mommy’ when we hung out together.

The next two years were tumultuous because it mattered to me to consider her feelings. I could not be insensitive to her even though I knew that it was the roller-coaster ride her hormones were on that governed her moods and responses. And so I did what was needed.

So here’s my list of do’s and don’ts for all you mommies whose girls are soon going to be at the mercy of their hormones:

1. Don’t wear spaghetti straps unless you cover yourself with a shrug or jacket. (They’d prefer you wore a veil but never mind…)
2. Distressed jeans and butt-hugging skirts can be stored away for a few years.
3. Do NOT show off that tattoo; if it’s on your wrist, wear full sleeves!
4. You can wear kurtis and long tops; in fact, the longer, the better.
5. Bid goodbye to low-back and backless shirts. You’re a mommy now!
6. They love you in saris but will complain about the navel-baring, deep-back blouses and sundry other oversights.
7. You’ll often hear: “Why can’t you just dress like other moms! Sheesh!” You must respond, “I’m trying!”
8. If you have a piercing, then God help you!
9. Do NOT dress in your own genuine style especially around a boy they have a crush on.

As mothers of teen girls we will realise that it is a passing phase and the easier we make it on them, the easier, in turn, we make it on ourselves.

Two years hence (she’s 16 now), we are both comfortable with what the other wears (I am not a fan of her flaunting the midriff in a western outfit, but then, it’s her style) and she has grown to accept her mother’s quirkiness. Peace and harmony have been restored on the wardrobe front.

The small sacrifice in toning down our dressing style pays rich dividends… because one day, when you discuss the issue with her (and seek her permission to write this personal account), she will, in her nonchalant way, tell you, “But I’ve always loved your sense of style!”

Outwardly you’ll say, “Thank you,” and inwardly, “Hallelujah!”

This post first appeared on www.fashion101.in

Backseat Conversations

A: "Mom I have a request for when I turn 18."

Me: "Yeah?"

A: "I want to sign a paper that will donate my organs to someone if I die in an accident or something."

Most times I don't know where these thoughts come from. But these are just a few of those moments when he leaves me stumped and speechless. 

The Change Agent in my Family

"I know why people throw their girls on the streets."

"Why?"

"Its because when they have to get married, their parents have to spend a lot of money on them because the man or the groom asks them for very expensive gifts that the family cannot afford. That is why people throw their girls because they think that they will be useless and only money will be spent on their marriage."

"How can you change it?"

"By not asking for anything when I get married. Its good to buy things by yourselves when you're an adult because you feel more responsible that you can do things by yourself."

Last week we visited a NGO that supports underprivileged children and their mothers and A noticed that there were no boys, only girls there.

When I told him that it is because girls need more help, we had the conversation quoted verbatim above.

Proud mommy today!

Spending time with our Parents

When my mother-in-law passed away a few years ago, the primary feeling, as we drove towards the town in Andhra where she'd lived the last few years of her life, was one of helplessness. My husband, not very communicative, has never expressed his true feelings upon the demise of amma but I do know, the feeling of not having spent enough time with her, of not having had the chance to say goodbye...these feelings were predominant in his mind.

About two years ago, a very dear friend lost his father to cancer.... He was due to visit his father just the day before the demise and suddenly, it was too late. He felt a deep sense of regret and remorse, for not "being" there...

For those of us, who live away from our parents and loved ones, in other cities, or other parts of the world, the 'fear' of losing a parent, of not being able to say goodbye, is a real one. It multiplies over time, as we watch our once formidable parents, age little by little...losing the "My Daddy/Mommy Strongest" title, and turning into frail beings. 

Calling them "elderly" was the first step I took towards the recognition that my parents were ageing.

And so we do what little we can, in their twilight years - not just for them, but more I feel, for ourselves.

We spend more time flying home to them to tend to them when they fall ill. There was a time when we HAD to move - to another town, another city, another country, as our dreams awaited us. They were young and capable of looking after themselves, and it was they, after all, who taught us to chase our goals!

We spend more time talking to them over the phone; some calls are just periods of silence, yet we don't hang up. There was a time when we would not even call once a week - "Too busy, too much work, too tied up, too bored (what will we talk about?/we talk the same stuff every time!)"

We now spend more time discussing their health, trips to the doctor, medication advices etc. There was a time when their concern for our health would irritate us; "Yes maa I will eat on time...don't worry.... You don't know HOW much I have to study!"

We never miss a festival; we fly home and make sure the whole "family" (our siblings and their spouses and children) gets together. There was a time when making a trip 'home' for a festival meant taking leave from work, and having to compromise on a holiday with the spouse and kids; then, the choice had been easy.

It isn't so today.

Some days when I hear my mother's exhausted voice on the other end of the line, I know its not enough. It breaks my heart, because my choices in life and many other circumstances took me away from 'home' since I turned 16. 

But I also know that we can never make up for lost time. We can only reach out and do as much as we can today. 

And hope as hell that we can live with that knowledge long after they're gone.

Backseat Conversation July 2014

Sometimes I think that the son is quick witted. At other times, well, he's just honest.

Daughter: "Mama, you know our neighbour is pregnant and A thought that she's become fat."

A: "Of course mama! You don't know but she eats a lot."

O H K A Y!

Who knows you best? Your child, of course!

Son's new friend comes home for the first time and is surprised that our pet Beagle is quite docile.

"Your dog doesn't bark?" he asks.

"Not really," comes the prompt reply.

"I have a ferocious dog at home," reveals the friend.

"Wow, really? What breed is it?"

"Its called a German Shepherd."

"Oh okay... Any way, he can't come to my home, or else he will have to deal with my mother."

Both nod in agreement.

Just another day...

Son: "I am opening this pack of cereal.."

Me: "Okay. Just put a stopper on the remaining (that cannot fit into the jar) and put it in the cupboard"

Son: "I assign that task to you Mom…"

O K A Y…

Backseat Coversation

We are driving to the sport's day in son's school. We have picked up two friends M and T. Both girls and the lad are seated behind while I drive.

Conversation 1:

Son: "Mom Im feeling very unsafe sitting between two girls."
M: "Why are you feeling unsafe? T is almost your cousin. She won't do anything to you!"
T: "Yeaaaahhh!"

Conversation 2 - as we reach the venue and slow down to park, son sees the girl of his dreams. T sees her too.

T: "Look A! There is her!!"
A: "Yeah, I can see her!"
M: "Thats so gross!"

Just another day in the lives of 10 year olds! Just another moment a mother ought to remember for the rest of her life!

'Best Man' dilemma

The other day, son asked: "Mum, do we have the practise of having a Best Man in Indian weddings, like the Americans?"

"If you mean Hindu weddings, we don't. But even in India, Christians do" I said focussing on the traffic of our chaotic city.

"Oh thank God we don't have a Best Man!" he said, as I saw him relax in to the back seat of the car.

"Why?" I was now really curious!

"Because I won't know which of my friends to choose from as my Best Man. I have four best friends you know" he said matter-of-factly telling me the names of his four best friends in order of preference.

Then he quickly added, "Otherwise I would have to marry four times to give them (all) a chance..." chuckling to himself.

What a harrowing dilemma for a ten year old!!!

Love is in the air...

The quietly humming air conditioner had illuminated the room with its display light. Lying in bed, I was hoping to fall asleep when I turned sides and saw my son was awake too. He was staring at the window the shades of which I'd purposefully left undrawn. I whispered to him (so as not to wake up the other sleeping child) what he was thinking about.

"Not what mamma... who"... he said.

"Ok...who are you thinking about...?"

"Oh you know...."

"No I don't..."

He smiled from ear to ear and blushingly blurted out her name, "Mohana..."

"Ohhhh.... nice..."

Mohana is a classmate from his old school, the one he left in March. I wasn't aware of the presence of this girl until one day, a friend whose home the kids were staying in for 2 days while the hubby and I shifted to another locality in the city, called to tell me that he'd been telling her 8 year old daughter about Mohana - "the love of my life!"

"So do you like her?" I asked.

"Mamma...not LIKE..." he answered and clarified... "L O V E ...love.."

"Ah! Ok!!" I said grinning to myself comfortably camouflaged in the darkness as he continued to stare at some point beyond me.

"So have you told her that you love her?" I asked

"No! I am scared..." he answered

"You don't have to be scared. You can tell her..."

"No mamma. I am too young..."

"Ah!!!" I thought to myself - too young to tell her but not too young to 'fall' in love!!!!

The conversation moved to how much he was missing Mohana and the other friends from his old school. I assured him that he will make friends in this school too.

He sighed and said, "But there cannot be anyone like Mohana!"....

I asked my love lorn nine year old if he'd like to go visit her sometime this week to which he jumped up and hugged me and said, "Oh thank you so much!"

Smiling he shared more with me, "I dream sometimes that we are married and we have kids and that my handwriting is still bad and I ask Mohana to do all the writing for me..."

"My children have PSPs to play with but I have invented them..." and went on to explain at great length the PSP he will invent in the future...

"But Mamma, she is a Christian..."

"That doesn't matter. As long as you love her" I assured him...

"Ok. Good. I think she is from Brazil..." he added his eyes travelling once more to some point beyond me, out of the window...

Eventually we drifted off to sleep, him and I. I have a feeling he was dreaming of Mohana as a faint smile played on his lips ....

Importance of Time - A Lesson

Nothing has worked.

Threats? He just stares at you if you threaten him!

Anger? He'll scramble for his books and on his way back from the room (to the study area) he will end up playing with his football, while you wonder where he is

Cajole? He'll cajole you right back with a "Can I do it later? Pleeeeeaaassseeee?"

Resignation? He will resign too and completely FORGET that he has to do it!

Home Work is ALWAYS the last thing on his mind.

Despite the 6 hours he gets after getting back from school and before getting into bed, he won't spare 20 - 30 minutes for an activity that he is aware he needs to get serious about, but won't just because it doesn't strike him as important...yes, inspite of the "incomplete work" remarks and occasional stinker his class teacher sends across.

Sometimes he will awaken to the mighty HW at 9 pm. Imagine if you will my consternation when I see 2 Maths sums, a few Qs&As to be learned in Science, and an essay writing thrown in (on good days mind you! The bad days will have Hindi AND Marathi work thrown in for good measure too!!!), and the ticking clock showing me exactly 15 minutes to wrap it all before he settles (almost carelessly) into a deep state of restful slumber, before another battle ensues the next morning!

"Why didn't you tell me you had so much HW?" I scream.

"I didn't know..." he will say in his smallest, meekest voice, making me sound like the quintessential evil witch who screeches and scares poor little children.

"How come you didn't know? Didn't you note it down from the blackboard?"

"We have a green board, not black..."

I do feel it pointless to tear my hair out at this juncture. All I can do is rush against time, get him to complete what he can and wake him early next morning to do the rest. Needless to say, I hardly ever succeed.

His diligence begins AFTER he has "seen" the HW... Until then, he will throw tantrums, play, or worse, procrastinate.

Yes...I've been told that this could be a phase and he will outgrow it. But I am afraid that he will not learn the value of the opportune moment (like doing his HW before the nth hour or doing it at all) and will stumble his way through academia and life, the biggest test of them all.

Today was no different.

Even as I struggled to get him to open his books and "at least tell me what you have to do today!" an imminent movement has me de-cluttering the house with a vigour that was infectious enough to get the daughter involved as well. She had just crossed the BIG hurdle in any child's schooling life - THE final exam and was eager to help me.

I asked her to start with her room and in 20 minutes, she found this incredible piece of paper hidden amongst her brother's Transformers, bullets of a gun long lost, scraps of impromptu notes and bits of half-eaten pencils...

She shoved it in his face as he lay on the carpet playing with another red plastic man-hero which obviously cost me a bomb and said, "Did you write this? And you only don't follow it!"

After a shouting match that went something like "You stupid...", "You wrote it you stupid...", "Give it to me idiot..." - you get the picture Im sure - for about 5 minutes, he finally snatched the sheet, read it and looked sheepishly at me, "I think I should do my home work. How much time do I have?"

There is something about wide, innocent eyes that can do anyone in. I am a sucker, I admit!

BUT this paper I've decided is precious, precious, precious. I am considering making copies, laminating them and pasting them all over the house.

A post of Gratitude, 3 gifts and a beautiful woman named Yamini!

I have immense respect and adoration for her. She gave me ardent support when I was the archetype stressed mother of two without reliable day support for them as I slogged my backside to pursue a passion/profession!

I don't want to call her home a "day care" or "creche" because what she has given my children, and all the other children who have walked into her fold, is a lot more than just a substitute to home.

She has given my children a home. A place where they can BE. Comfortable, safe and happy.

She gave my children TLC (tender loving care) when we couldn't leave everything we were doing to rush to their aid.

She ensured that they completed their home work to decrease the burden on us.

She gave them space, TV time, play time, happy times and loads of fun times with multiple parties and celebrations (festivals, birthdays and what not!)

My children went to her, straight from school, for three years before the daughter decided she had outgrown it and wanted to be home every single day. The son missed his friends like crazy and for the first few weeks of transition would go straight to her place after school and come home only when I asked him to.

She never once, not once, sent him home, because I wasn't paying her anymore, nor did she spare any effort to reach out to my tween "I know what I want mom" daughter... They still get invited to the birthday celebs of their erstwhile mates... Such is her all encompassing love for children...

And I have missed the support she gave us so unconditionally (especially now that I am virtually stuck at home, and have to perforce cook three meals AND ensure the fussy lad eats too)... She did it all and didn't complain... Tackled the tantrum throwing of the fast-growing daughter and the hyperactive always-getting-into-trouble son...

There was no "closing" time, and even as we'd brave rush hour traffic to pick them up on the stipulated time, we knew that they will be safe and happy even if we were to get delayed by a half hour or so. She never once, ever, made us feel guilty for not having picked them on time...unlike many so-called professional outfits I'd encountered that would call and actually threaten us while we'd be stuck in a traffic snarl that we would not be able to crash through or fly over.

Card 25

The children stayed over at her place a couple of times when I was tied up covering an event that would mean staying out till 11 pm. She would always assure me that they would be fed and that I shouldn't worry about picking them up at 11, disturb them if they're asleep. Instead she would reassure me that they will be taken care of and will be home the next morning!

To a working mother, such a woman is nothing short of a guardian angel and therefore, for card 25 of the Joy of Giving, my children and I decided to create something and gift her.

Son and daughter made glass paintings, and I a poster (toyed with the idea of a cake but wanted to give her something that would express my feeling of gratitude completely and words ARE my 'craft' anyways)...

Abhir

Oorja

Me!

This evening, we shall give her the gifts we've crafted...which are still inadequate for all that she has done for us as a family.

How to Tackle a Bully? Read on....

The children are playing with "each other" again... The Bully on the Playground has been beaten :-)

I enlisted the help of a very dear friend, who lives in the same society as I do, and who is a long standing resident of the place. Since I was the "interested party" (my son was being bullied) I spoke to him seeking guidance.

Because I knew that only two things would happen if I approached the bully myself:

1. Having heard his reaction to an innocuous comment I made to the children, I knew that he is not a reasonable man. Moreover, he seems to have scant disregard for basic etiquettes, else he would not have stood on the ground floor of my building and shouted his lungs out.. Expecting him  to be 'reasonable', 'calm' or 'patiently hear me out' were near impossibilities.

2. I also knew that if I were to confront him after our rather unpalatable face-off on the day the incident occurred and found his attitude unchanged, found him unrepentant, or worse still if he were to lash out at me, I would have, in all likelihood slapped him or worse.

I am the mother of an eight year old, who he used cuss words with, bullied on the playground, and also ensured that he was boycotted by his own friends... I sure as hell would not have been reasonable or patient with him. This dear friend warned me that such a reaction would become detrimental to my case and would make him a victim instead...

All he asked off me was to be patient. His only remark, "We'll use yukti (intelligence) not shakti (strength/muscle power) to teach him a lesson." I trust him and held on even as I wrote a letter to the society Chairman requesting his intervention (which hasn't happened so far!) and also got a reporter friend to call the Chairman, since the media was very interested in my story.

While one part of me was seething, because I wanted to make sure he had more than a few broken bones, I also wanted an apology from him for being rude, crass and uncouth, but I let those feelings pass. It was "personal" but it did not become me to make it "personal"... Eventually I wanted to put an end to it because he had no business being a nuisance and ruin the innocence of childhood for the boys.

Meanwhile, this friend, spoke to all the children, who admitted being cursed, abused and intimidated by the bully. They also admitted that the bully had abused me for raising the issue.

Then he spoke to the parents. One by One. He got the parents to intervene, and a general alarm was sounded. Each of the boys was directed by his parents not to play with the bully. For two days, a parent accompanied the boys and played ball with them, making sure the bully doesn't venture close.

It was a coup! Bloodless, at that!

In two days, the bully was boycotted by the group. The same set of boys who were afraid to take my son in to the group, called him and began playing again.

The bully probably doesn't really know what actually happened. All he knows is that the boys, collectively, don't want to play with him around.

He, being the proverbial bully, has moved on to another part of the society, to a group of boys playing badminton.

I am unwilling to let him get away scot free not just because he bullied my child, but because other kids will certainly become his victims if he is not stopped.

As I watch him playing badminton (all-rounder in sports he seems to be...), I am picking the phone and making that important call....to the Chairman, who has my written complaint and whose duty it is to ensure that our children are free to play and grow without adverse influences within the walls of our society.

The Bully on the Playground

He is a bully. His mannerism is like that of one. He has been intimidating 6-7 boys who play football in the evenings, most of whom are in the age group of 8 -11. He uses abusive language when someone misses a pass or a tackle. He is unafraid of being overbearing with these boys who play in the open space of the housing complex they live in.

Suddenly the game is not innocent anymore as he tries to (for lack of an alternate word I use this one again) "bully" his way to domination.

That he is a grown man, most likely in his early 30s, is a reality not lost on any one, least of all the children.

Unfortunately this man lives two buildings away from us, and has been victimising my 8 year old during the games.

One evening, as I stood on my terrace watching the children play, I noticed that he allowed a foul to pass off as a goal when my lad was the goal keeper. Even though the boy protested, his teammates got after him because he had purportedly missed a 'simple' goal. Goaded by the bully, the boys proceeded to castigate the boy, who walked back home, head down, almost in tears.

Never in the past had I ever interfered with the games the boys played, even though children in their inimitable style bring home playground stories of glorified 'horror'. All along, I have upheld the idea that they, being peers, have the liberty to play, or fight or make up with each other as the case may be. 

But having watched the reality of what had happened, I called the boys over to my home.

Since these are also boys who spend an average of two hours in my house almost every single day playing video games and other sundry games, while I make them snacks etc...I thought I should tell them what really happened.

I told them that the "uncle" (bully) had cheated and that it was not a goal. They meekly nodded and went back to resume their game.

Within minutes I heard the bully shout from the ground floor (I live on the fifth) demanding to speak to Abhir's mother. After I confronted him and asked him to back off, and stop interfering in the kids' game, he muttered some innocuous statement like "Mind your own business woman", "I play with them because of my son" and went away.

What he had also failed to add was that his son is barely five, and is hardly ever part of the game in a team of boys much bigger and faster than him.

I was later given to understand that the bully has been using the 'f' word with the children, abusing them for not playing well. His language is crass and he is very rude with them.

This incident occurred almost 6 days ago. The fact that he returned to the playground simply meant that the point I was trying to make was completely lost on him. 

Meanwhile, my son was barred from joining the game yesterday when his friends said, "Uncle will be angry if you join because your mother said bad things to him" and asked him to take "Uncle's permission" to play.

In his role as self-appointed referee cum coach he has managed to drive a wedge between the boys who have been playmates and friends for a long time.

Fortunately, my son came home told me that he doesn't need friends like them and proceeded to play at home instead.

Honestly, I am seething. I will desist from writing down my true feelings towards him... Suffice to say that words like scum, assh***, rasc**, beating, FIR etc have crossed my mind.

I am angry that a high-on-testosterone imbecile is taking over a playground where he has no right to be. He is interfering with the boys' games on the pretext of coaching his son, and also abusing the lads, again on the same pretext. He is ostracising an 8 year old in a playground... What kind of a lowly man would do something so despicable?

The Oxford Dictionary defines a bully as
"A person who uses strength or power to harm or intimidate those who are weaker..."

Tell me friends, how must I deal with him? How would you deal with him?

A Train Journey I shan't forget

This post was written in February 2004... One month short of my son's first Birthday when I had made a trip to Kerala from Delhi on the (in)famous Trivandrum Rajdhani.

Making a train journey can be tedious. And if you have to make a looooong one, (about 38 hours), with two little kids for company, you've just about had it. AND if the train gets delayed due to "unavoidable circumstances" in the typical Indian Railways style, you can very well imagine the plight.

It takes serious effort to maintain one's cool...coz

1. You may be blessed as I was, and have the worst set of co-passengers ever possible, who can be bickering, uncooperative and unreasonable.

2. There is a four year old hyperactive kid who wants to swing betwen berths like Tarzan, causing a rise in the blood pressure of many. No problem with that except that she happens to be your daughter.

3. There is also one sweet little toddler, who is his calmest best during the day, but howls the night through, making you, his mom, stand ouside the periphery of the compartment, for most part of the night, sweating profusely (totally defeating the very idea of travelling by an Airconditioned coach), singing a baritone lullaby hoping that he shuts his mouth and his eyes (in that order) and knocks off so you can catch a wink or two....

4. The food on the train, the mighty Rajdhani, is atrocious and your daughter howls through the journey demanding Maggi Noodles, Rajma Chawal, Macaroni.....just to make your life a little more miserable.

5. Whatever you have carried, (which makes up for a LARGE part of your luggage), your children refuse to eat....turning you into an expert at 100 m dashes, rushing in and out, getting off at select stations where the train halts for an unbelievable 5 full minutes....while you look for that milk/chocolate/snack vendor (or whatever is the latest demand), get to him, pick up your stuff, pay for it, glance apprehensively at the train, the watch, the signal on the platform while he gets you your change...and make it to the coach.....just in time.

Through all this, you find one particular gentleman looking your way too often, watching... He seems to be waiting for you at every station to board the train...coz he only boards after you do, when the train is already in motion. 

He is there, sitting up while you try in vain to put the baby to sleep.... You see him as you cross his berth to get to yours balancing the sleeping baby on a moving train, trying not to hurt the child (You don't want to make any wrong moves lest he wakes up!!) coz you see his lights switch off after yours, as late as 2 am (It is strange because on trains for some reason - lights switch off as early as 930 pm). 

He begins to feel like a shadow...coz when you take your girl to the loo for the thousandth time, and turn around after she is through, he is right there.

Then he finally approaches you and says, "Ma'am, I just wanted to tell you that you are a very good mother. You are handling your kids so well. You are being so patient and caring. Its great."

And leaves you dumb struck. You mumble a quick "Thank you...." coz actually you don't know what to say....

Should you be rude to him and snap, "Who asked you?"...coz this may very well be the latest pick up line! But you know its not...coz he compliments you and minds his own business thereafter... Nothing further... 

You arrive your destination and scan the crowd for him, but he is not there. He is the angel who disappears after his job has been done - watching over a hapless mother with two children :-)

Yes. The Lord does work in mysterious ways!

All grown up at 8!

Well, I don't remember what was my 'level' of thinking at 8. All I recall is that I loved playing the mundane ghar-ghar games, hopscotch, painting/colouring etc... The thought of 'boys' didn't cross my head till I turned 15...

I do remember my youngest brother's thinking at 8. Being 8 years junior to me meant that we had a generation gap between us. I remember in class III he had crushes, but nothing serious. But then that was over twenty years ago...

At 8, my son has been volunteering pieces of information on a daily basis on several sundry topics, some which I find uproariously funny, others which leave me zapped.

For one he has begun resenting a hug before boarding his school bus in the morning or a kiss that I'd like to give him just any where. He retorts: "Don't hug me/kiss me in public. I don't like it!!!"
Now that it has been established that he is embarrassed by it, the daughter will hug and kiss him to piss him off every available opportunity, in public! *sigh*

Last night as we discussed a probable vacation spot he candidly said, "When we go to Goa I won't get out of the room. I don't want to go to the beach because of the women in bikinis."
Daughter: "Maa, just look at this boy! Just 8 years old, look how he talks!!!"
Me: "At 8 you don't like girls. Wait till you're 15 when you will want to stay at the beach only" *devilish laugh*
Son: "We'll see about that!"

Over the past few months, his conversations have been getting increasingly candid - like the one about How hot you are - or - About Gay.

While I was amazed that he knew about bikinis, I also knew that he was telling me exactly what was going on in his mind. As he grows up, the one thing I am happy about is that we communicate. That I guess is the only 'upside' to these inputs...and the humour of course!

Tackling tantrum throwing

Different couples have different reasons for having children. Ours was a bit complicated and some day I will note it down (makes for insightful reading).

Bottom line is we not just had one child, but two. Now there is a very good reason for that too. Read about it here...

However, as any parent in this world will tell you, while parenting has its obvious joys, parenting two kids also has its challenges. Handling both of them, the sibling rivalry and trying to be 'reasonable' and 'fair' to both (even in the midst of a terrible fight), has never been easy. But I have found a via media, a veritable middle path that I use in tackling some of the 'sensitive' issues between them, and I am sharing four of those 'tactics' here. 

When my children hear me mouth the following words they think I am insensitive and impolite. To me, this is the only way to avoid losing my temper, shouting at them and in the bargain, feeling miserable. 

Here's a list of what generally gets my goat and how I deal with it:

1. Crying - Really loud. Most likely in a public place. Or in the midst of a guest/relative/friend. For a vague reason that could range from "You always buy her/him everything and me nothing" or "I REALLY want to play now and you are saying 'study'"....

I shush them quiet and say "I don't want to 'hear' a sound. Cry in your mind."

First few years they'd actually become quiet and calm down and figure out 'how' to cry in their mind. Sometimes I would go a step further and tell them "I don't mind if you cry. I don't want to hear it. Thats all."

Then came a phase when they would irritatingly ask me, "How can I cry in my mind?" 

Now at 12 and 8, they just quieten down. Guess they've also learned that I am deaf as long as they screech and I am also beyond embarrassment with their tantrum throwing.

It works!

2. Fight - They are siblings so they fight. A lot. 

Sometimes I am at my wits' end and then I remember how my mother used to tackle us. She would find it hard to ignore us, if we (like my own tots do) kept tugging at her clothes, chin, hands whatever to grab her attention and get her to "accept" that she would shout at the brother/sister who was hassling us... But finally she would give in and say:

"I will shout at him/her when I find them alone next."

If we protested, she would say in her sweetest voice, "It doesn't look nice to shout at him/her in front of so many people. So I will do it when I find him/her alone."

What it does is calms the situation down for that moment. Kids being kids soon forget the reason why they were squabbling or fighting and the issue is laid to rest without actually screaming/shouting/threatening the child, and thus avoiding another confrontation ("You don't love me..."....)

I use the same tactic. And this one works too.

Of course when the children realise that this is just a way of postponing the crisis or brushing it under the carpet, they DO get mad and shout, "But you never do it!" or "I KNOW you won't shout at him/her..."

But, in my experience, it is a better way of dealing with intense sibling rivalry or tattle telling...

3. Love - When their fights go beyond the usual "I hate you" I stop and remind them how much their sibling loves them. "But she/he loves you so much..." This sentence almost always gets to them to stop mid-way and listen to you through the crying and tears. 

The older one does sometimes say "No he doesn't..." to which I always promptly say "He does. If you stop fighting you'll see the love"...

This works too :-)

4. Hugs - What child hasn't questioned your love for them? As a parent, don't we often hear, "You love her more than me..." or "You love him so much you agree to everything he says"...

I often tackle this by hugging them real tight and telling them that I love them as much as I do their brother/sister... After the initial resistance, that lasts a minute perhaps, I feel their bodies slacken and give in to the hug. Then they hug me back. 

A hug can heal any thing. Believe me... This one works like magic!

Images courtsey: Google Images

Sweet Memory

I wrote this a few days before the second one arrived into this world. I am glad I found it in the pages of a diary and as I reproduce it, I can't help but smile over and over again....
April 05, 2003.

She squeals in absolute delight. She stares at the screen, totally enthralled - wide eyed, jaws dropped open. Her giggles echo through the tiny darkened room.

It is my sprightly three year old; not in a cinema watching a cool new animated flick, not at home watching her favourite new-kid-on-the-block, Vivek Oberoi. She is watching the monitor of the ultrasound machine that is projecting pictures of her little unborn brother.

A pair of eyes, a mouth, hands, legs, fingers, toes, a steadily beating heart...she is soaking it all, under the expert guidance of the friendly doctor. The pictures are hazy...a lot of black and a little white, but so full of life!

"Mama, its Abhir!", she exclaims, eyes twinkling, as they travel from the monitor to me and back, savouring every glimpse.

We have named him Abhir; made aware of his sex as soon as the doctor could identify him. She has been waiting patiently, for the last eight months, to hold her little sibling; the little baby she hopes will share her room, her toys; and we hope, her joys and happinesses and her life.

And to think that we had the power to say NO to it all, like many couples these days do. More than one child sounds like hara kiri to many and the excuses range from being socially responsible citizens of the country (by not adding to the vast population), to the more practical - we can't afford one. Growing up with siblings has been a significant part of our lives, my hubby's and mine, and we wanted our first born to revel in the same feelings.

The time has almost come. We are almost there; nearing the days when his wails will ring in a new beginning in all our lives, especially our daughter's.

Tonite I will whisper a little prayer of gratitude to the Almighty for bestowing upon me the joys of parenthood. The look on her face that I saw today will be etched in my mind forever.

Solar System redefined

The Solar System was redefined by my eight year old in a tele-conversation with his father today:

"Hi papa. I am your SUN... Don't touch me you'll burn ha ha ha.... You are Mars, mama is Venus and didi.... Didi is Pluto because it is furthest from the Sun... No... Didi is Mercury because when she goes there she will touch the dry ice and die"...

My reactions - Good God! He must not hate his sister THAT much! His school is doing something right (his planetary information is quite updated)! Post a blog...

Happy Birthday Oorja

I have written a post on this day almost every single year ever since I started this blog in 2003. Last year, a few tumultuous incidents in my life made me miss it. But I am back, wishing my first born a very Happy Birthday!

Twelve years old today, and as per my clock, already born...(at this time, I was consuming my first bowl of 'pure ghee' blended with a few essential ingredients to help in the healing process after a natural birth - I am still trying to shed that fat)....lying serenely next to me, bundled in a swaddle that my darling nani (maternal gran'ma) had painstakingly sewn at age 74, as my family gathered to watch this tiny being...

And it was on that very day that the cycle of comparisons began. Who does she look like? Whose 'colour' does she have? Whose nose and whose lips? etc etc.... Inspite of the inner turmoil I felt (although I did feel happy that many of them thought she looked like me, including my hubby), a very very hilarious conversation ensued that I will encapsulate verbatim:

My husband called his parents to inform them of the arrival of their grand daughter. The conversation went like this:

Hubby: "She is healthy. Born at 330 pm...Her weight is 2.6 kgs"
Father-in-law (FIL): "Okay good. Whom does she look like?"
Hubby: "She is very sweet (gushing)... She is very pink and fair... She looks like Ritu's family...same colour..."
FIL: "Why? Everyone in our family is also fair - amma is fair, your sisters are fair, you are fair..."

Thus ended the conversation! Hubby could, obviously, NOT argue with that logic...

To this day, when we are confronted by a situation where we feel one of his family members has been 'unfair' we pull his leg and say, "No one in his family is unfair. His dad said they're all fair..."

And to this day, every time I meet his sisters or father, I smile inwardly remembering that conversation....