Breaking out of the bubble (for moms).

So, I survived the first 6 weeks and survived a major abdominal surgery. You don't normally equate a c-section with major surgery but after reading up about it, I am convinced it is. Compared to the nightmare that was my first (non-surgery) delivery recovery, this one seems better but I guess if things had gone wrong with the surgery, it could have gone terribly wrong.

The bubble thing. The first six weeks after r~ was born, I was in a haze. I continued to be in a haze even three months after she was born. I just didn't feel quite right (which later I discovered was my thyroid levels acting up). But thyroid levels being off or not, the first six weeks after delivery, you live in a bubble. In my case, I kept hanging on tight to different mementos, places, things at different times during those six weeks. The first thing I held on to as a security object for a few days was this pair of socks -- they gave it to me at the hospital just before the surgery...



The five days in the hospital this time were mainly about little milestones, little victories for me. Last time, it was quite the bollywood drama -- I asked to go home after third degree tears, hemorrhage and the doctor said he would stamp an AMA (against medical advice) on my forms if I did that! 3 days of labor, attempt to birth at home etc etc. Long story that. This time, everything was planned and felt a bit unreal. k actually had a real hospital bag ready (last time, after my last bit of strength with home birthing and labor had drained off, I picked up a kroger bag, stuffed a few nighties in it and insisted we rush to the hospital with that). This time around, we had taken a real hospital tour, pre-registered, all that good stuff.

After a 'regular' delivery, delivering a baby by c-section was...different. I almost missed laboring (or perhaps that was my hormonal imbalance speaking to me). I missed the challenge of kicking labor in its *-- and knowing that I have the strength to push the baby out. I have read that labor pains is one of the worst forms of pain that a human being can endure. So, coming out of it alive seemed like winning something. I was thrilled to see baby m~ and wondered in a drug-induced haze if I should make another one of these wonderful little things but I hadn't pushed the baby out. I felt a little tugging and there she was! The post 'delivery' part of this pregnancy though was as miraculous as the first time :)

That's the surgery part of it. Then came the 5 day period where I had to kick a different *-- i,e surgery recovery :p I decided to stop and make a little mental note every time I crossed a milestone -- getting up to walk (12 hours after surgery), getting off the epidural, using the rest room for the first time, walking out of the hospital room for the first time, everything was a struggle and a small win. After 5 days, I almost felt scared to leave the hospital like I was leaving a safe bubble to go to the outside world. I guess the hospital room and nurses had become my second security blanket. I held on to little things like the warm water and apple juice k would give me in the hospital room -- each was a source of comfort that it was going to be ok.

At home, I looked forward to the huge scoops of nei that I know my mom would have had ready for me. I remembered the taste from my last time and somehow even that helped me recover -- the familiar tastes and smells of home, and settle down to a more normal routine at home. I shed a few tears for not being able to spend enough time with dear big sister r~. Our lives used to revolve around her constantly and now I wasn't able to shower her with the amount of attention I was accustomed to giving her. And the fact that she was so excited about her lil' sister and had not a jealous bone in her body only made me feel sadder somehow. I am back to doing activities and crafts with her (and sitting on the floor!) and am glad for that...it's always the small things that catch you unprepared.

What's the big deal, you ask? Everyone has or knows someone who has gone through a c-section (or a regular delivery for that matter). True, that. But, I thought I'd write a little about what it feels like to actually go through it and emerge out into the sunlight. I am still seeing through tinted glasses, still standing with one leg somewhat inside the bubble but I know I will step out eventually like I did last time.

Here's to all the moms who make the journey! It's not an easy one :)

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A new life.

I guess giving birth is like being reborn. I am trying to recall what I used to write about here. Whoever said having two kids is not too different from having one either has only one kid or is delusional with lack of sleep. Say hi everyone to baby m~!

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As it was with r~, measuring time with little milestones -- first time I could walk after surgery, first time she smiled (gas or no gas), first time I wore something nice after the delivery, first time k and I watched a TV show after delivery...every little thing is a milestone, a small celebration that we survived and are bravely marching along :)

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Weird what thoughts float through our heads those first few moments, minutes, days after the baby is born -- when I heard her cry the first time and saw her for the first time, I thought, 'Gosh! I could do this again. Maybe we should have another kid!'

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Didn't realize I would spend so much time worrying if I am giving r~ enough attention. I assumed most of my energy would be spent taking care of baby m~. Boy! Was I wrong! Half the time, I am screaming at r~ (who is a big girl now, all of 4 years old) to not touch m~'s hands because she hasn't sanitized her hands yet and has a runny nose and is just back from school (which we all know is there to spread germs and education). The other half of the time, I am tiring myself physically doing crafts with her to make up for all the time am not spending with her and to make up for my guilt for the earlier screaming session. The first few days after I was home, my baby blues (tears) were mostly about r~...didn't expect that.

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Thank God for supportive husbands.

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And supportive moms.

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I am so happy I sent chocolate covered berries and a sweet card to the hospital staff. I love thank you cards and birthday cards and miss you cards...you get the picture. No wonder I love thanksgiving speaking of which, this card r~ made at school was touching:

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After all the drama of home birthing, 3 day labor, ER visit and blood loss last time with my delivery, this time was almost a non-event. Felt unreal to not go through labor and give birth. I missed laboring -- something empowering about beating it and coming out of it alive (and now I have officially lost it, I guess).

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Addicted to Parenthood.

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1 year of no TV and still counting.

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r~ is mischievous to a point where we get complaints from her school teachers about her naughtiness. Always embarrassing to get lectured about your kid; thought we were done with being lectured when I graduated from college.

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Is anyone still reading this blog? Hellooo?

---:)---

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On moving and settling down.

So, we moved to Alpharetta almost 9 months back. We have gone through excitement, boredom, denial, almost-feels-like-home, jeez-we-have-no-friends...and many more phases representing a range from emotions from the totally anticipated to the entirely unexpected. I thought I should note down how I feel now and revisit after a period of time to see if anything has changed.

The first 3 months: were about saying good bye, nostalgia, remnant excitement from arangetram and from quitting IBM and moving on to a better job, adrenalin mixed with exhaustion from the move and the staying in a motel and the move again to an apartment.


The biggie was getting r~ settled into a preschool. I was definitely more apprehensive about that than my first day of work. The initial months were about figuring out where to get food (What is a Publix?!), where are the Indian grocery stores (we get chat here, paav bhaji with Tamil movie songs playing in the background!), beauty parlor (right next to HotBreads, now renamed Cake World) where I don't go any longer -- that's a long story, where to get clothes (there is a carousel in the mall and cup cakes and a train!) -- this we had to figure out as soon as we realized r's school required uniforms (was I back in Chennai?) Around this time, I met my friend from Bits, Pilani, A~ who filled in the gaps for me. An Indian co-worker of mine gave me the inside info about restaurants in the area and such. 


During this time, we went to Atlanta almost every weekend and tried to get a feel for the city (if we weren't in Atlanta, we were in Lex!) We didn't have any friends to speak of, so might as well get to know the city, right? We were regulars at the Children's museum (rocks!), Chatpati and related Indian restaurants in the area. We checked out the puppetry center for arts, an art studio for kids, a farm with animals to pet + a bonus art class...


r~ celebrated her first birthday in school (with Simba)!


There was not much time to think. The moving was done but the momentum didn't slow down...yet.

My artist at Purple Hippo Art Studio

Simba and Nala chilling out at our apartment!

The next 3 months: r~ was well-settled in school and I, at work. k was all set with his home office. Our trips to Atlanta had slowed down and we had info about all the essential services we needed. We continued exploring, went on a wild animal safari...That's when it usually begins right? The urge to change things just when everything seemed to touch a semblance of sanity. We started discovering small annoyances with the apartment -- the dish washer coughed up black gook every now and then (the apartment service folks rocked though), we were lucky to get a ground-floor apartment with an attached garage but there was hardly any sunlight in the living room -- and I thought I was running away from minor-SAD-symptoms in Lex. The reduction in living space didn't make much of a difference (surprisingly) and I loved the single-level layout but I felt the need to decorate the apartment so it was more home-like. We had friends visiting us from Lex and that was fun but we missed 'hanging out' -- something that k and I had an insatiable appetite for, in Lex. I got to know my office colleagues better and A~ better, attended a bunch of school birthday parties with r~ (where I, like my daughter, did not manage to make any new friends). I got to know the pani-puri aunty well ( we were there almost twice a week). 


r~ decided to join a paatu class -- my little girl was taking her own decisions! Another friend from Bits, also A~, told me about a bal vikas class that r~ might enjoy. So, we took r~ to Atlanta every Sunday for the class. She refused to stay alone in class which meant managing her for 2-3 hours without hopefully too many embarrassing moments. By the time, we ate and came back, it was 4-5 hours taken from our Sundays -- which was a nice way to spend Sundays since there wasn't much else to do anyways except house hunting! Around this time, I decided we had to buy a house and so the rest of the weekends and a considerable part of our work lunch time was spent looking at ranch houses. We needed a single level home, close to work and close to school, at least 3 BR and in reasonable condition. Turns out, that was not easy to find because not many people built ranch houses nowadays! Finally, we did find one soon after we decided to take a break from house hunting :)

Wild Animal Safari

And that brings us to now: we moved yet again, celebrated the new year and my birthday. I was at home, at work -- you know what I mean. r~ was at home at school. k~, well, he is at home, at work, anyways :) We talked a  bit about r2i and m2b (move to bay area :p) but decided we needed against it for the next few years. I liked my work and r~ liked her school. The place was definitely more happening and had access to a lot of fun things to do, the weather was better...so what's the catch, you ask? Friends, of course. Making friends, when you are no longer studying somewhere, it turns out, is hard. We met people we could hang out with but that's different from hanging out with close friends...


k's parents are here to visit us and that always helps w.r.t home sickness (where is home anyway? India, Lex, here?) We finally joined the local library and I felt like I could breathe a little bit easier -- felt like a missing puzzle piece fell in place. We went to a neat build your own car class at Home Depot..met a few more people, who could potentially become friends, and felt better. k, though, misses friends at Lex, the swing in our backyard, the sand box he built for r~...


We went without TV for 8 months and hardly noticed the difference, we bought a TV and then returned it, bought another and returned it and are now TV less again and surprisingly still not missing it but I think this time, we will buy a TV and not return it.


r~ made some almost-real friends, I saw her initiate and ask questions to her teacher (by herself! Huge deal...for me), today she asked me if she could go to school (either she likes school or k and I have become boring versions of ourselves here!)...


And we are back to spending inordinate amounts of time about trivial enhancements to the house -- which means, we are almost home...


Time will tell.

@Home Depot -- that week's show & tell for school!

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iStress

The iPad is becoming a frequent point of contention in our household and the cause of considerable amount of stress for me. I'll start with the smallest point (person) and then go on to the bigger (older) ones. No, I am not going to say I have conflicts with r~ about how long she can be on the iPad. Thankfully that day is not here yet. She is a pretty good kid that way and hardly ever demands to play on the iPad but she has recently gotten into this routine of face-timing when it's night in America.

It's a long story. She doesn't like the dark much and asked why the sun had to set and why it was not bright and somehow we landed on the topic of it being daytime in India while it's night in the US and she got fascinated by this concept. So, when it is night here, she would say, Oh, it's dark here which means thatha paati will be awake, so let's facetime with them. And soon, it became a routine for her. Oh, it's night here, let's facetime to the extent that she would refuse to talk to her grandparents on the phone. "No, only facetime!".

It's quite interesting watching her interact with her thatha paati on the iPad. Although she has spent considerable time with her grandparents face to face, now her routine is to chat using the iPad and so, she doesn't treat it any differently from face to face. She'll usually demand for facetime and then proceed to do her normal activities as if her thatha paati were right in the room with her. It's not "different" for her to interact with her grandparents this way. Today, she said, "Let's take thatha on a walk into the night!" and I asked her how and she said, "Joiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, like this" and she showed me how we would carry the iPad with us into the night which means that thatha is coming with her for a walk into the night :)

Anyway, coming back to the contention points, the second is k (of course). Every morning, I get up a little earlier than k and r~ so that I can get her lunch box ready while they catch up on some more zzzs. And after screaming out their names 22 times and opening the curtains and playing loud music, k will sleep walk his way into the kitchen, look around for his glasses and/or coffee and then sit down with his...iPad while I fume in the kitchen, calling out a constant stream of instructions that usually lightly bounce off his ears and fall onto the carpet. And when I questioned the necessity to make the iPad an essential body part this early in the morning, he said, well, isn't that what our dads did? They sat with the newspaper -- that's the only difference! This actually made me laugh...the other day, I was drawing with r~ and I found a picture that reminded me of what he said. So, I drew it out on a piece of paper and gifted it to him as a reminder of how thoughtfully he had held up to his side of the argument:

It came out pretty well I thought. He asked if I thought that's where he was heading at the top (notice the baldness), I hadn't thought of that :p

So, the third point which is most likely to cause some heart condition in me has to do with my parents and the iPad. Usually a facetime (chat) session on the iPad goes like this:

Me: "Amma, can you come on facetime, r~ wants to chat..."

Amma: "Now???"

Me: "Yes."

Amma: "But, can't I  just talk to r~ on the phone?"

Me: "No." (With r~ screaming into my ears all along, "Facetime, facetime, thatha, paati, facetime!!!")

Amma: "The iPad is in the bureau..."

Me: (With slightly elevated pulse rates) "Why?" -- This is like the point in BBT where the Leonard warns someone not to ask Sheldon Why.

Amma: "Because it is expensive and lot of people come in here. It will get stolen. I can't find the bureau keys..."

Appa: "Amma is looking for the bureau keys to get the iPad out. What is r~ doing? Oh...I hear her. What is she saying? Hellooooo...helllooooooo paaaappa..."

Me: "She won't come on phone pa..." (Thaaaaaaaaaaaathaa, paaaaaaaati...wheeeeeeee -- now she is just screaming just because it is fun)

Amma: (Somewhat breathlessly) "I took it out..."

Me: "Ok, can you come on facetime?"

Amma: "It's not working"

Me: (Enter gritting teeth stage) "W h a t  do you mean, it's not working?"

Amma: "It shows a red broken battery and won't even start"

Me: (Coming close to matching r's decibel level) "Why is it not charged?"

Amma: "I can't leave it charging forever. The iPad will heat up...also if it is left outside..." (repeats the whole reason about burglars targeting iPad2's in India)

Me: "Put it on charge now"

Amma: "I did. It's still showing a broken battery."

Me: "Aaarg"

After sometime, I have calmed down, had some cold water, managed to give r~ some fingerpaint which she is using as floor paint but at least she is quiet now. I call India again.

Me: "Ok, iPad charged?"

Amma: "Yes. It doesn't work."

Me: "???"

Amma: (Patiently expands on her terse statement) "Nothing works"

Me: "@#@##$%"

Amma: (Excitedly) "Shall I come on the laptop? It will only take 2 minutes?"

Me: "No, we bought the iPad for a reason....what doesn't work?"

So you can see how it goes. Thankfully, that time L~ was home and he deduced that the internet connection was down and so fixed it (which in India, you do by restarting the modem. Five times a day.)

I haven't even touched upon me remote debugging from here and teaching my dad how to increase volume on the iPad or the time they lost the charger and spent more than the iPad cost to replace it -- need a part 2 to this post :p

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About women & proving themselves.

When I initially joined IBM, I would tell k, "We have to reach on time in the morning and that means 9 AM sharp" and k, well you know, he likes to linger and blink and tune out and drink coffee s-l-o-w-l-y and basically do anything in his capacity to not acknowledge that the sun has risen and yes the day has indeed begun! So, after realizing where I was with the time requirements and where k was (we drove to work together), I compromised and said, "Ok, 9.10 and not a minute later than that. We gotta be at work by 9.10!" He sort of agreed because I guess he just didn't  have the energy for a full-fledged fight early in the morning!

I never got how k could be so casual about OUR NEW JOB AT IBM! I mean, we have to PROVE OURSELVES right? My mind would scream and his mind would give me one of those, "Have you gone mental ?" looks!

And thankfully after a while, he started working from home and I didn't have to negotiate our morning leaving time again. Now that I am again a new employee, I have all the same rules that I applied when I was new at IBM. I have to reach on time, I can only leave after 5 (4.45 may be ok if I don't have much to do that particular day), I can't take too many sick days (Yup, just told my body not to fall sick) and so on. And k still doesn't get that -- the whole "proving myself" bit. A few weeks back v~ and d~ had come to Alpharetta and v~ was talking about something similar at her new workplace and k goes, "What is it with you TamBram girls and proving yourselves at work?!"

And a few days back, I told him about this new girl who had joined our work place who said the same thing pretty much word to word and she was not even from India. And this time, it made me wonder too -- is it a girl thing? The strong need to prove herself at work because...because what? Just the fact that she has been hired (after multiple challenging interviews) is not good enough an indicator to people that she is good at what she does? Or is the default assumption that she will be taking more time off because of kids/family etc since traditionally she has come to do that? Maybe the 'pat in the back' for working hard is more important to us for some reason. Come to think of it. We do thrive on words of praise, don't we?

Gotta go now. Have some "proving myself" business to take care of!

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Exploring Atlanta -- Puppets!

I should probably title this post, "Exploring Alpharetta" but I know there is much more scope if we catch the train to Atlanta :) Yesterday, we went to a puppet show, "The Ugly Duckling" at The Center for Puppetry Arts in Atlanta. I wondered if r would have the patience to sit through the show and was surprised that she did. To my relief, even before we entered the theater, I found a lot of parents with squirming toddlers and knew I had reached the right place. The show was bright and loud (in a nice way) and they had a really nice stage setting with musical instruments built into the stage itself. The puppetry form was "Overt puppetry" where we can actually see the puppeteers manipulating the puppets. The lighting and sound systems in the theater are pretty sophisticated due to which they could pull off a stunt where the puppeteer blew a firefly (like light) from her hand and they filled up the entire ceiling (tiny lights that were supposed to be fireflies) -- that was magical for the kids (and to some of us)!

The puppet we made

The last time, we took the train to Atlanta (Marta) to the Children's museum and as a result couldn't really pick a restaurant of our choice to eat, which made some of us (yes, that would be me) cranky (I had to eat cold veggie burger in Atlanta. I mean, come on! I am in Atltanta, I should be able to find a desi snack place with hot snacks)! And so this time, we were planned. After the puppet show, we ate alu sandwiches with hot sauce which k had meticulously packed and I even packed coconut water in case I got tired (you can never tell with my thyroid gland)! Then we went to Chattahoochee national park by the river and walked about 1/4th of the trail (just a few minutes actually) before I started feeling tired. So, we just sat by the river sand and let Rads play with simba and her ugly duckling (The puppetry center had a small workshop where we could make ugly duckling puppets with the kids -- an awesome idea! r loved it!) puppet.

Glad I can actually go to a show and actually take r with me -- low stress deal! If you are in Atlanta, drop me a line and let me know what kid-friendly places you like or even better, if you are in Alpharetta, just drop by home :p

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On long weekends.

If you are in the US, you know that long weekends are a big deal. An extra holiday means a lot to 9-to-5ers. People start talking about it right at the beginning of the work week and conversations always include questions on "the long weekend plan". The plan, that's the next big deal. If you know me well, you also know that I love to plan -- for today, for tomorrow, for the next 5 years, for myself, for k, for r and so on. So, that's 2 things that I like -- an extra holiday and planning. Somehow, add it together and it doesn't always get me as excited as one would logically assume it would.

After more than a decade here, I am always a little bit apprehensive about long weekend planning. Do we drive 6 hours (Arrrrrrg!) and spend loads of money to get super tired at some nerve-wracking amusement park with scary rides? Or we can drive 7 hours (Arrrrrrrrrg!) and get even more tired after a day spent trekking and camping. Now, truth be told, I haven't done much of either and it's not that I am not a nature-type-of-girl (I guess I am not) but when I have a precious extra day, I don't want to plan business into it. I want to plan nothing for that day. Actually I'd rather "not plan" because in this day and age, "plan to do nothing" has its own connotations like no-technology, no-TV and more such nos that we impose on our selves to prove that we can be happier by taking fun stuff out of our lives -- its all about not being dependent, including being dependent on being happy, if that makes sense.

So usually, I feel a sense of being in a race when the long weekend approaches -- like I am lagging behind if all I want to do is sit at home and do nothing (which actually amounts to quite a bit if you have a 2 year old, so, you might as well head out, but that's another story) . For me, doing nothing is fun. Sure, traveling the world sounds like a great eat-pray-love kind of thing to do but usually am not in the mind frame for that! Sometimes, I just want to organize my house more, sometimes, I just want to watch a movie or act silly with r or my favorite (you know, do nothing) which gets like a C rating if say, traveling the world is A+. Add to this the fact that k is a traveling-the-world kind of guy and you can literally see me wishing the extra day away but for the fact that the day has so much potential :p

On a related note, I wonder why long weekends were never such a big deal (or come to think of it, even a deal) in India? Is that because we had many other exciting holidays to look forward to which weren't termed long weekend but in essence and were actually significant for a lot more reasons than just an extra day off? Or was it because I never had to work in India and hence have no recollection of workdays and time off work?

So go on, ask me. I don't have a plan for the long weekend. No, I won't drive. No, I don't want to walk 3 miles and climb 2 miles to see the most breathtaking waterfall there ever is in this universe. No, I don't want to not check FB and twitter (am sure there will be a day when I will impose these rules on my family, this weekend is not it!) I just want my extra day to be just that -- a sweet 24 hours where I don't have to do anything or nothing. I can be in the land of the peaches and the onions and smell the roses or not. Maybe I will open an account at our local library and check a to do or maybe we will continue watching 180 (which seems like a good Tamil movie so far). Or not.

(I guess I just need a break after the interviews and the arangetram and the move and the new job but I stand by what I said -- no long weekend plans! There, I said it.).

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About being back home...

Yesterday r~ and I went for a walk in the evening and while she chatted on about the sky and the moon and Avaiyar paati in the moon, I hugged myself bracing against the already chilly air and I guess against the winter to follow. The neatly lined cookie-cutter houses looked orderly, well-maintained yet distant. And that's the thing about this country. You can see the chandelier on inside the houses and the table already set for an early dinner but it's as if the house is bereft of conversation and sounds and people! An evening walk at this time in Madras would mean a friendly hi from at least our watchman and the few maamis rushing to the Krishnar temple right outside our house there...

I had this similar feeling of loneliness when I sat staring at the five huge suitcases that had to be unpacked. Suitcases filled with bits and pieces of home that I hoped would fill my house here with the same scents and colors that I had left  behind in India. We have been busy socially the one weekend that we have spent since we came back, thanks to Navaratri Golu but what now? It's as if this indescribable aura is all around us, when r~ says "Ellayum Indiala irukaa" or mentions people back home or when k is away for an evening, this aura pervades our house, shooting questions at me, "Is it really worth all the trouble?" But then, I could just be consumed by a sense of nostalgia and homesickness and attributing every small annoyance to the fact that this is not India. I would probably be fine in a few weeks when things have fallen back into a predictable routine here...I just don't know yet. All I know is, the evening when k had a bowling game was well on its way to being a pretty boring evening for me until I decided I needed to head out of the house and search for some people to talk to! So, I did that. Packed r~ in her cute blue sweater and went to drop by the Indian family's house that's just a few houses away from mine. After spending an hour there catching up with that maami, I felt better and headed back home feeling not so distraught.

I feel like k and I are picking up on small things to fight about because we are still fighting to settle back in this country after a supremely satisfying vacation in India. And as my dad predicted, r~ bravely adapted to the country change and is busy running about doing what she considers is her business for the day :) Although, I can tell she realizes more than she lets on -- she acts so excited and happy when people drop by home here, I can tell she wants the attention she had back...

So while I deal with the change and I guess myself, expect similar themed posts and feel free to speak your mind!

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Nose piercing, technology and r2i -- in other words, random!

So let's see, where do I start? I'll begin by talking about my latest obsession -- my nose piercing. I was so excited to get my nose pierced. It seemed like something daring and different and it still does seem that way except that I have a little bump the size of my nose ring right next to it! And yesterday, the lady at the gym started at it as she spoke. Arrrg. This actually reminded me of that episode in Friends where Chandler says he couldn't date that woman because she has a gunk of mascara sitting at the corner of her eye :p Anyway, I have two options -- ditch the nose ring or patiently wait out the bump on my nose. Not happy about either option.

Edited: So last night, I went to that piercing lady to ask if my nose was going to vanish under a big bubble. So, the impression I had of the lady was this: that she was hep and looked cool with all those weird piercings (too many for me but still...), she was efficient with the piercing and said, "If you have any trouble at all, call me, I am Kari" and I thought, "Gee! What a nice lady! And cool too!" Yesterday though, I came back with a different opinion of her. She saw me come in and the smile literally vanished from her face (probably because she knew I wasn't a paying customer -- just a "return visit customer"), she tried her best to appear disinterested in my...nose and my questions. She didn't smile except in the end to say, "Have a nice day!" and there was no, "Contact me if your nose vanishes..." kind of promises. k said the moment she saw my face, she sat down heavily on her chair (as if she wouldn't budge even if I sprouted a second nose!) So I came out thinking, "How did I ever think this woman was friendly and stylish?" Even her piercings seemed ugly. I guess external beauty really does depend on what goes below the radar. Anyway, I don't recommend Bleed Blue for this very reason -- pretty miserable after sales care.

I really didn't want to discuss my nose piercing in this post but at least it got me to write something. I am feeling sort of restless these days and I feel like I should do something really cliched like ditch facebook for a month or stay off the laptop the whole weekend or something like that. But, I bet that's what people said when cell phones were the rage and really it sort of blended into mainstream culture pretty easily. Maybe that's what will happen with social networking sites too. Everywhere I look, I see, "Catch me on youtube, twitter, fb, check our my blog blah blah". I had an interesting discussion with a friend the other day and she said she didn't really have a facebook account and didn't care for one and that got me thinking. She had her reasons of course -- privacy, waste of time etc. Nothing new there but still, I went ahead and made most of r~'s photos private on fb. I didn't go so far as deleting my account but I felt I had taken a step towards...towards something. I don't really know what that's a step toward! The other day, we went for a walk and k was staring at his new android OS cell phone for most of the walk. When he eventually showed me what he was staring at, I was hooked in too (it was an app that could identify a star if you pointed your cellphone at a star in the sky!) but still a walk is something pristine and peaceful and calming...a device in the mix ruins it! I feel like r~ is missing out on some basic experiences and growing up just like today's iBabies. Instead of listening to her grandma sing thamizh paatu or her thatha tell her stories, she is growing up (with me singing out of tune Tamil songs but also) listening to Nila, Nila on her Tamil DVDs and watching "Ennamma thozhi" on youtube.

The other day, I watched two 5-6 year olds spend a couple of hours sitting on the couch in front of a video game instead of out playing in the sun! I don't really know if r2i is the solution for helping a child grow up with a wholesome mix of things but I am not getting very far here with the desi experience. I try my best though with what I have -- I religiously speak to her in Tamil at home, restrict how much TV she watches (nothing except her baby DVDs and only for drinking her choco milk -- yes, she is that picky with her milk!), make sure she sees me or k light the vilakku and pray everyday but I feel she misses out on people-experience. Perhaps we miss out on it too. I am not a big fan of the huge combined family drama but staying in close proximity to her grandparents is something more beneficial than what she has here. And things that we struggle for here -- like teaching an Indian language or Indian culture will come naturally if we actually lived in India (instead of faking it :)

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Philately and stuff.

We all dabbled at philately when we were kids. A few years later, the stamp books were forgotten and we switched to the next hobby. I never though "adults" indulged much in hobbies at that time. Hobbies was something kids did for fun. Some times it turned out to be a life long passion and I would picture the intelligent looking gentleman in glasses and a brown beard showing off his exotic stamp collection to admiring oohs and aahs but I didn't think the normal folks did much hobby-wise -- they were too busy leading lives.

So, recently k told me about a book he had read on retirement (Yes, he has been obsessed with that for quite some time now) and he said the basic advice in the book was sure, retire early, go for that world tour and sign up for that salsa class but have a fall back -- something you are passionate about and have been doing on a regular basis, something you can continue to do even after you retire so you don't start feeling depressed with the void that the lack of a regular work routine creates and the kids have gone to colleges, so there is no day to day "busy-ness" to keep your mind occupied. I wondered if this is a desi phenomenon, the result of not having completely integrated into the culture and life here? Would this be the same if I retired in India? Somehow, I think with the people and the sounds and the general life there, one would not have to worry about a stifling, suffocating loneliness post retirement. I am guessing one wouldn't have to worry about driving to the grocery store in the middle of winter and navigating the store with a walking stick either. Kids do leave the nest there too but a middle income couple after retirement can afford to get some tasks done at least with paid help and mostly, the grocery store will have an in home delivery method that doesn't cost an arm and a leg (The last I knew, it was still free). Even if I do retire in Chennai (let's assume) and say my kids are elsewhere, the maid and the regular folks still come home and I still have basic human contact even on the days I feel too tired to visit someone's house. Here, perhaps I would live in a city where I have similar retired friends and unless we make an attempt to drive by their place and spend time with them, it's possible an entire day passes with no real people talking and no one for company but electronic devices and the hum of the AC and refrigerator. I guess, I am just painting an overly bleak picture but every time I see old people struggling in Kroger to carry and manage their bags, I wonder if I am heading there by choosing to live in this country (not that I have made that decision already...I dwell in hypotheticals, you must know that by now!)

And so coming back to the question of hobbies...I guess the book states that if we pursue a hobby of our choice and invest time in it, make connections, find like minded people, that will keep us going through retirement. And perhaps if a week has passed without a call from the kids, it still won't be that bad because we still have basic human contact and we can still spend time with people we like doing the things we like.

Is that why k has taken to running, I wonder? Me? I am going to stick to books and dancing for now. Hopefully they will tide me through our lonely retirement but who knows, maybe I will be in India by then and just wishing for some quiet and peace asking myself why it feels like I am working even when I am supposed to be leading a leisurely, retired life!

Edited: I meant to pen this earlier but got distracted with other thoughts. I think the support system for desis in this country makes it harder to follow up on and be passionate about our hobbies. Given our Indian style of parenting where the kids are not exactly tucked in by 8.30 PM and you  have the rest of the night to relax, even finding little chunks of time where you can concentrate on your hobby becomes a challenge. And for every such chunk of time you find to focus on your hobby, it also means time away from your spouse whom you think you might not recognize in a crowd(:p) thanks to hardly any time spent talking/alone with him. The few free moments we get are spent discussing the baby or house chores. It's hard for a couple to find that one single hobby to spend time on together. Add it all together and you basically have chopped away at your quality time with your spouse for the sake of your hobby. So Saturday mornings find me alone with the baby when he is running or him alone with the baby when I am dancing and that's the price we pay for our hobbies. Somehow, I think it will be easier if we had close family we could leave our child with for those few hours or at least close family we can hang out with, with the baby, because the loneliest part of taking care of a child is the lack of adult company -- we all know that! And yes, we can hire a baby-sitter but I am not sold on the merits of that idea (yet). Where does all this leave us? With a happy toddler and zero date nights and our somewhat ignored hobbies :-)

Ok, I know this is a random post but managing toddlers means having no time to nicely organize your thoughts in little compartments and then express them (Time kidacha eduthuko illati aduvum illa!) -- so do expect more randomness from me.

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Two men and a bird.

One sunny Saturday morning, I heard the sweet chirp-chirp of what I know now as a Starling. I turned about on the bed, smiled at r~ next to me and this time heard the chirps right above my head as if there were a bird incessantly calling out to me from the ceiling. I alerted k to this fact just like the past 65 times that I had done that and just like the previous times, he muttered an eloquent, "Uh uh" and went back to sleep inside his comforter. So I left it at that.

A few days later, k told me that he is going to Home Depot to do some "chores". This surprised me because k, like other husbands I know, tend not to take up initiative when it comes to chores (Yes, yes, broad generalization). They tend to believe that they live in self-cleaning, auto-organizing houses that prefer not to be interrupted while performing their self-auto-duties. So anyway, I left it at that.

A half hour later, he comes back with a long metal ladder strapped on to the top of our mini-van. "Need to sort this bird issue out", he said sounding very business-like and matter-of-fact.

"What bird issue?"

"The birds in the attic."

I give him a look that says, Ok, so you woke up now after a year to take care of that? 
Maybe 65 is the magic number, remind a man 65 times and he will get the task done asap.
Only in our case, asap turned out to be a bit longer than I expected.

So, he sheepishly admits, "The home depot dude said bird nests in the attic could be a fire hazard. So, I thought I should take care of it."

Strike out the 65 theory.

k valiantly unloads the metal ladder that seems to weight heavier than our house and leans it against the outside of our brick wall on the side of our house. There, about 200 feet high (or some similar dizzying height), there is an opening that our dear Starlings have been using as the entrance to their house -- the nest in our attic.

But you see, if you have ever lived through the experience of "driving birds out of your attic", you will know that step #1 is just that -- driving them out. So k proceeds to do the logical thing next.

Which is place our ipod player, volume turned max, in our attic (In case you are interested, no, he did not have to climb the ladder outside to place the ipod player in the attic; we have an access to the attic through our bedroom closet). The theory is (and you will notice by the time you read to the end of this post that several theories support the "driving birds out of attic" experience, most of which are flawed. The rest are untested.) that birds do not enjoy music that humans do. So, they tend to stay away from human music and humans. And hence an ipod player in the attic will drive the birds away. Ta da! So, all day long, the poor American Starlings hear Suprabharatham and an eclectic collection of Tamil and Hindi movie songs and then k announces that the birds have flown out of the attic.

Which leads us to step #2 -- Clean the attic

No complications in this step. Clean the nest from the attic. Make sure you take big trash bags with you to the attic. Step out with bag full of nest stuff.

And that brings us to step #3 -- Seal the opening so birds can't get in in the future.

k managed to climb the 200 feet ladder propped outside the house, somehow with a drill and drill bits (or whatever the thingamajiggie is called) in one hand, and cover the opening and nail it all down or drill it down or whatever the technical term for that is. And so we are done. And that is how you drive birds out of your attic.

Normally, that is how this happy serial would end. But, ours turned out to be more along the lines of a Sun TV mega serial.

The next morning, I heard sweet bird songs early morning and in my sleep nudged k and said, "Birds."
And then a few moments later, we both sat up upright with the sinking realization that we had sealed those birds in. They apparently enjoyed the music a bit too much and did not exactly leave the attic. They were just silently sitting there praying with MS.

So now enter man #2 of the "2 men and a bird" saga -- S.

k and S hemmed and hawed and tried to decide what to do with the stuck birds. Firstly we did not possess the infinitely tall ladder which was returned to home depot earlier because it costs $30 for every 4 hours! So to recap, the options are:

1. Do it the hard way -- climb the ladder, remove the nails, free the opening and let the birds fly home or fly away in this case. And then reseal.
2. Do it the harder and possibly more comical way which is to remove the opening to the attic from our bedroom closet, leave all the windows open in our bedroom and let the birds fly from the attic to the bedroom and out the window.

Thankfully, they decided against #2. Ok, so I thought k & S decided to go with option 1 but k tells me I am wrong. The wise men chose option 2. So, the men decided they would go up the attic from the bedroom, leave the attic entry open, leave our bedroom windows wide open and use the window screens as tools to lead the bird out our bedroom window (An hour prior to that, the men sort of waited for the birds to fly out all by themselves which of course they chose not to). Once in the attic, k had the bright idea to shine a pen light torch towards the bird in the hope of attracting the bird to the opening. The bird liked the light a bit too much and flew straight towards k. Of course, our brave man fought hard till the end which involved frantically waving the light and pushing the bird towards S. The bird took the hint and flew straight to S who at this point tried to wave the bird off with his window screen but in the process stepped onto our dry wall and then he sort of hung out in our attic. By that I mean, literally that -- his leg broke through the dry wall and sort of dangled below our ceiling inside the house!

Edited: k tells me they took a stick and a window screen up the attic. The stick to wave the bird towards the attic opening and the screen to protect themselves from the grave danger that Starlings are capable of inflicting on humans with sticks :p

In case, that wasn't clear, this scene should explain:
One man waving his pen light torch in arcs and his window screen with his other hand crouching in the dark attic. Other man valiantly trying to deflect the bird away with one foot dangling down our rest room ceiling and one scared little bird trying to figure it all out.

So bright idea #2 having turned out to be a spectacular failure, our men decided to fall back to #1. My manager was kind enough to lend us a ladder and this time k did it all by himself -- basically a repeat of the first part of this serial.

Long story short, the bird did eventually fly out. S's leg is doing much better now. The hole in our ceiling is fixed and drying now. k has realized that theories about driving birds out of the attic are just that -- theories and may not work out for musically inclined Starlings with a penchant for bright lights.

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Jumble again.

Seems like I either don't find the time to organize my thoughts into a single coherent topic for a post or I do find the time but my mind doesn't want to put in the effort for it. So, here's a jumble again:

► I keep saying I really want to return to India for good but I guess at some level, I am apprehensive, sometimes scared of the prospect of going back for good and what all it would entail. In the end it seems to be whether I want to live the life I want, the way I want when I am healthy and young and then handle the tough decisions that life in America will throw my way when I am retired (Mainly to do with the dynamics between r's lifestyle and choices and how they will affect k and me) vs live a challenging perhaps difficult but fulfilling(?) life in India now with the chaos and color that family will bring and lead a relatively more peaceful old age to put it simply. If r grows up in India, she is going to be Indian (Duh ☼) and Indian culture will automatically be a part of her life. But my life is going to be dictated at least in part by others. Of course I can be a bad gal and ditch what people say. But really, what's the point of going all the way to live a life there when all you are doing is being miserable because you can't make the people that matter with their infinite demands happy ☺? So money and comforts aside, the r2i deal seems to sprout new tentacles each time I think about it.

► "That's my girl!" k says when finally r shows interest in a tiny racing car that he's been trying to entice her with since she turned 6 months.And I was going to give him the mommy-knows-all lecture of "Don't try to impose your interests blah blah" and then stopped myself. I have been guilty of that too. I have been trying to get r interested in books since she was 6 months old and I believe I have succeeded but that's an example of me trying to impose my interest on her too. I guess there's a difference between imposing our unfulfilled dreams on our children and teaching them to love the traditions we love. And right now, it's more of the latter than the former. Maybe when she is 18 and wants to be an entomologist and I am insisting that she take a Literature degree, that's when I have issues to deal with ☺.

► I have noticed k (I should say men since I like to generalize based on k :p) don't do well with multi-processing. If I have asked k to do one thing and then I tell him do this after you finish, then he just freezes in his tracks and looks at me like I just spoke Ancient Greek to him. The whirring pace of one task after another in my head are no match for the precise, one task at a time only chugging that goes on in his head. And I have noticed he doesn't do well with too many choices. Even if it's just his clothes. The Spring wear he sports now has been exclusively hand picked by yours truly :p I, on the other hand, like most moms (Should I say women?) like to multi-process (Sometimes, I don't have a choice) and plan ahead. Wayyyy ahead. I like to have the if-then-elses in place in my head and plan out possible routes (Yes, yes, I do understand life tends to get unpredictable but I like to assume I have the power to handle the predictable at least!)...Mars-Venus I guess. Who knows?

► Anonymous blogging is boring. Firstly, it's hard to get a reader base if you are starting off as a nobody, just too much work to patiently write interesting niche stuff until you have people stopping by. But, if you already own a known home in the blogosphere, then this anonymous getaway is sorta not that appealing because it lacks the people interaction I guess. So anyway, I started writing (venting? :p) in this mom blog. A couple of reason I wanted it to be anonymous: moms tend to carry passionate views about parenting styles and I guess everything else related to kids and I didn't want to inadvertently write stuff that will rub other moms the wrong way; I wasn't editing, so just dumping thoughts from my head to the screen...so long story short, here it is: desi mom. Another blog? Until I set up my own website somewhere and aggregate all my blogs, a new blog it is plus am afraid I'll scare folks away from here if I keep writing twitter-style mommy blog posts here! Yada, yada...feel free to take a look, ignore, comment and all that good stuff. Like I said, blogs with no readers are sort of like unread books -- there might be good reading material in them or at least glimpses of it but you never know until you pick them up and read it :)

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Apppy...

That's how r~ says "Happy" when the "Happy Birthday" song plays on TV. When I turned 30, I acted like the typical drama queen -- resisting, reminiscing, wondering how this chunk of my life would turn out. But the big three-oh turned out to be fine mostly and in addition to a little love bundle in my arms, I managed to get a book out there. Check, check (as Monica would say). And now, I am at that crossroads again wondering what this year will bring. A published novel would be nice. It would be reaaallly nice. And then I would be one of those cool moms who could claim that they took care of their baby while working from home on something they were passionate about. But, I am not that mom now. I am just a mom who is turning a year older who is dreaming big dreams while her little one continues to throw delightful little challenges her way and melt her heart with her love (I could talk a lot more about r~ but I'll reserve that for my secret mommy blog ;)

One of these years, I am going to approach a birthday thinking Ok, I am there. This is where I wanted to be and this is where I am. 35. Yup, that sounds about right. 35 is going to be the year when I am going to breathe a sigh of peace and just be.

Anyway for now, k has threatened to buy me a complicated piece of technology for my birthday.

"But, I don't want that whatever-you-call-it. I want you to find a publisher."

"You didn't give me anything expensive for Valentines day..." (k attempts to imitate the inverted sad "U" that r~ makes with her mouth), "Just this, this...."

He is staring at the card that r~ and I made for him. It's a print of her hand with three little hearts drawn on it.

"Don't say the wrong thing..."

"This...priceless card." And then he seems lost for words.

Yup, can't go wrong when baby helps make a card for dear husband :)

"Anyway", he continues, "This will help you get there..." (now pointing to the amazon page touting the product).

"I don't want that thingamajigi. It will make me feel more guilty for having spent money towards writing and not succeeding. Why can't you find a publisher for me?"

"'Coz that's hard. Almost impossible."

Retracts statement quickly after catching my expression, "Well, not impossible. But very very hard...umm...somewhat hard? Look, why don't you check out what I am buying for you?"

Still sulking, "Other husbands support their wives' dreams."

But by now, I have lost him. He is excitedly reading about the thingie that he is going to buy that can convert my voice to text.

Oh well, at least I have a ring now.

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The ringless situation.

So, I've been asking k for a new ring with my birthstone in it ever since my old one got yucky and gave my ring finger a weird looking wrinkle. He has tried all techniques that husbands employ -- agreeing and then pretending that he forgot, plain dilly-dallying, pretending to focus on blank spot with more intensity, changing the topic to li'l r (This is a good one, I fall for it almost all the time), asking me about myself or my blogs (This one works well too), throwing in random related questions, "Yeah, you think we should check out the rings in the mall?" and then, "What's for dinner?" He is too smart to refuse because he knows the consequences of said refusal but at this point I am weary and annoyed that my delicate ring finger still does not sport a glittering sapphire (or whatever my birth stone is) ring shining with the promised love of our marriage. And so, I tried a different tactic the other night:

"Where's my ring?"

"It's coming honey."

"I don't want it."

"Why? The ring is slowly on its way."

"Don't want it."

At this point, the conversation sort of petered out and wanting to prove my point, I add "Because if you buy me the ring, I will refuse to accept it. I suppose for that purpose, I would need a ring."

Looks confused, "Okay..."

"Because, I have my ego and my ring-less finger has waited long enough."

Confused look replaced my faint ray of comprehension but then goes back to looking confused again.

"Because..." At this point, I have run out of becauses, however would like to continue conversation so said ring finds its place on my ring-less finger.

"Because, there is no love left in our marriage."

"Huh?" I admit some genuine bafflement crossed his face but he was not very forthcoming.

"I don't want the ring."

And then to emphatically state what was on my mind, I add "I don't want the ring."

So anyway, am waiting for the ring since Val day is around the corner and k is sorta predictable that way. I need to prepare my rejection speech for the ring (unless of course it's a really really cute ring).

Arrrg. Why can't I be the type of girl that excitedly pointed to the ring she adored and shared it with an equally delighted girl-friend. And then k would contact said girl-friend without my knowledge, get said ring in the right size (and he would know the size because he would have secretly taken my engagement ring along with him), have it gift-wrapped in a lovely shiny white box with a little pink bow on top and then tada! You get the picture?

Man in black suit, white box in hand, down on one knee...ending with, "I can't accept this ring. The ring acceptance time has expired!"



I am not saying it has to be this ring, just saying (I swear I didn't pick it up just because it is insanely expensive and that is a fitting revenge, I really liked it)...

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About odd feelings and familiar comforts.

I am an "odd" sort of person in the sense that certain situations will without fail produce an I-feel-awkward aura around me and k will most certainly point out why my feeling is unwarranted and I really out to just grow up and deal with it. I, you can guess by now, of course disagree. Certain situations demand that you feel odd.

Take for example one situation which always always makes me swallow and gulp and look all shifty-eyed and weird -- changing my provider, a provider being anyone who supplies certain items that I regularly need or provides services that I avail of when in need and hence shares a certain degree of familiarity with me. For eg: my doctor, my florist (if I had one), my beautician (Ok fine! I go to her once in six months to do my eyebrows). The problem arises when I try to switch from one to another or ask for a discount or just do something other than pay the cash and take the service.

To dive into the details, my current source of oddity is r's pediatrician. So, there was this dude who wasn't as adept as he should have been for her well visit check-up. As a result, he laboriously prodded her and she lost it and scream her head off. As a result of which, I lost it a bit too and k had two difficult girls to handle as the drama unfolded in the doctor's office. To give the doc some credit, he was very nice about calming me down and assuring me why the prodding was necessary to ensure dear lil' r~'s ears were healthy. And so, I nodded and sniffled as k carried poor diaper-clad r around the clinic to appease her. All this is fine but then due to a few other reasons, we decided to change r's pediatrician (3 hours for a well-visit appointment!) And now comes the awkward part. The new doc said we needed to contact our old doc and get all of her records from there so they can get her into their system (Don't get me started on the "In the system" protocol -- I can write a book about it). When k told me this, I hemmed and hawed and finally told him I couldn't do it and then you know we fell into our regular pattern which went like this:

"Why can't you call them and get the records?"

"Because, I feel odd to do it."

"Why should you feel odd? You are the patient, you have a right to see some other doc. For her last appointment tomorrow, I told the clinic we don't want to see this particular doc ." (The docs in her old clinic do a rotation sort of thing, so you don't really know which of the 5 docs you are going to get and the particular doc in question was our ear prodding dude.)

"What?" (I am mortified -- what if he walks in to check on her, should we like block his way or something?)

"What? I told the nurse we don't want to see Dr. a~ and she didn't care, she was like sure, if he walks in, just tell him you want to see someone else"

"Oh noooo! I can't do that. If Dr. a~ walks in, I'll just have r~ checked by him and then anyway we go to the new clinic next time!"

"Why? Why?" (At this point, k has the expression he gets on his face when he can't begin to imagine why I behave the way I do sometimes)

"Because it is ODD!"

Yes. O.D.D. And I have a right to feel odd in situations like this. The problem is I have more than a few of these that I find hard to handle -- bargaining for a used car purchase, bargaining with an Indian auto-rikshaw driver over the fare, asking for a discount...at some point in the past, I felt odd to go back to the Indian grocery store after a break of six months when we shopped at another store. I think s~ uncle actually had a oh-look-who-is-finally-back-look on his face when he saw us but if I tell k that, he would say I am imagining things.

Ok so maybe s~ uncle who owns the Indian grocery store may not care as much if one of his customers decided to go awol. But you know what? Sometimes people do care and notice a lot more than we give them credit for and that's why I like to stick to my service providers (even had a hard time convincing myself to switch to AT&T from Sprint) -- you never know, one day they may recognize you for being faithful and give you credit for it. I bet k won't complain because the Indian restaurant that's like two minutes away from our house gave him a permanent 10% off because we ordered take-outs so often (Yeah yeah, I do cook but I was in a homesick phase after folks left back to India and couldn't drag myself into the kitchen to cook).

So yeah. Cheers to everything familiar -- there is comfort even in getting your eyebrows threaded by the same hands (although it hurts like crazy no matter who does it).

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Amul butter anyone?

After a couple of years, I decided to tag along with k and r~ to Sagar India Market to buy Indian groceries. Nothing much had changed but I did find this extremely inviting package of Amul butter beckoning to me from behind the frosty freezer door. Today, I unwrapped the package and took a big chunk of butter which I confess I ate "apadiye" (Was it the horlicks ad that went, "Appadiye saapiduven"?), no bread, no crackers, just utterly, butterly delicious Amul butter. It was all that it promised to be!

Not that I needed an excuse or anything but then I started thinking of India. The other day, I was talking to k about my evergreen topic, India vs America, the one that my dad and I always end with, "Ok, let's agree to disagree on this". I told k that somewhere in the back of my mind, there is always this thin veil of insecurity that reminds me that am not in my home country. I love America and am grateful for the life we have here, but am certain somewhere not easily accessible is this little anxious voice that cautions me to be careful and I think that voice will not be quietened by a green card or a citizenship card. That voice is here to stay.

Maybe, it's because the life we have here is what we built from scratch. Aside from a handful of close friends and a wider circle of just friends, we don't have a solid base with close people milling around us to help us if we need help. Our foundation is still new, stable but new. Maybe r~ would feel otherwise because we would have built the base on which she will build her life. She has a backup. What do we have? There are channels here, "aid" available if needed, organized care but it is not personal, it is...indifferent and that worries me.

Life throws many curve balls at us and I guess, I am trying to handle one now that has me wondering if r2i is the only sane, only safe decision there is for us. But, I guess I have gone through pretty momentous occasions here in this country and am stronger for each experience and a bit more confident. So, maybe life here is worth a shot and is the right way to go...who knows?

There is a reason for everything and I bet there is an overwhelming reason for my choice. I just have to figure it out.

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Scatterbrained.

Aaah. Another night in countless nights with less than 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep (where's my medal?) Side-effect being that I can't think coherently and therefore cannot write coherently. Result being this post.

I wonder if Radhika doesn't like the bottle just like I don't like the breast pump. In our quest for equal rights, we seem to have painted ourselves into a corner. Need to perform well at work, need to be great mom...Need to be a great mom, need to perform well at work, need in-laws to think am doing some level of work at home (have pretty much given up on this), need to have date nights (Ha haaa), need to keep up with baby-info, need to sell my book (I know, I just can't stop saying "My book" :-)...so many needs and one small brain (Ok fine! It has 100 billion neurons but ever tried to reach this limit?).

Uhh...wait, where was I? Oh yeah, the breast pump. Been thinking about this contraption ever since I read this cool article by Judith Warner. So now, we willingly subject ourselves to this nonsense and demand a pumping room in the workplace so we can save some magic-mommy-milk for baby. If you lived in the previous century and someone told you about breast pumps, you would have laughed and then raised your eyes incredulously when you realized it was not a joke. What have we landed ourselves into?

Why do we feel the urge to work when nature did not entrust us with that responsibility in the first place? Yeah, yeah, we have brains that function just as well as mens' brains etc. But maybe, the brain was meant to function best when the woman stayed home with the children. Then, the equations would have been clear-cut. And yes, I would probably be teary-eyed in my pretty apron (Yeah, chronologically and geographically incorrect but am sleep-deprived) if I had burnt the bajji that I fried lovingly for my husband when he came home after a day's work. But at least, I knew that was my responsibility and I knew I had to excel in that. Not in 200 other things that I impose on myself.

What can I blame for this urge to multi-task? To work and pump and nurture and be good at everything under the sun? (I know I hardly used the breast pump, so can't really rightfully complain but what the hell, just feel like complaining about...women and our decisions).

The vast majority of self help books say, "If you are unhappy, change it..." (Who moved my cheese, anyone?)...so why don't I just change it instead of typing furiously on my thinkpad? Sigh. Because all said and done (What now? I am using cliches? I really need to sleep!), I got it pretty good and I realize it in those rare moments of self-awareness that seem to come farther apart nowadays.

What's my point again? Dunno. What if I lived ages back...actually no thanks, I'd like to live now :) So, what if I just do one thing and be really good at that one thing? (Like google -- search and search real damn fast and well!) Let's see...in my imaginary, ideal world, I would probably be an SAHM, owning one of those mom-owned cool businesses or writing for a living (Woohoo! -- so, read my book already!), having the energy to take care of r~ all the time and ooh, wait, I want to look sexy too and not fight with k over night wakings...!

Hey....100 billion neurons, you got that all? Good, so work towards it!

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An ode to modern motherhood.

When I was pregnant, my friend a~ told me that the pregnancy/labor bit was easier compared to what follows. She said, at least I know that can't go on forever but lack of sleep really kills me or something to that effect. And I wondered how that could be true. Of course, since I was pregnant, I was only concerned about the pregnancy part of the whole experience and I thought once the baby is born, I can switch back to a worry-free existence -- you know the cutesy smiling mommy, gurgling toothless baby scenarios? Turns out, I was pretty off base. Pregnancy was really easy compared to sleepless nights and the newer worries that were born with the little package that I signed up for :)

Of course, I can never say my labor and birth of li'l r~ were easy. Nope, although I seem to have made a valiant effort to see the humor in the situation when I read my birth story (Radhu was 7 days old then) a few days back. k likes to call it "the much-glorified blood-loss story". Of course, I shot back with choice phrases that postpartum wives reserve for their helpful yet annoyingly hormone-balanced husbands. Suffice to say the story wasn't pretty.

Anyway, I digress. I was talking about how this whole motherhood thing is a pretty sneakily tricky business. At every stage, it gets you thinking, "Oh! If only I pass this stage, then all's going to be rosy and peaceful" and then you reach that stage and you are already peeking into the next stage and wondering when said stage will jump ahead. And like all mom stories you might have heard, I will add that each stage has a charm that you will miss when you near its end. See, that's why it's sneaky. You want your baby to be done having teeth and then you look at her full-teethed smile and wonder where the toothless grin of yesterday vanished to. You watch her bob her head to music and wonder why the little person who needed your smell every moment of her awake-time doesn't need you quite so much anymore. You are waiting for her to take those little baby steps but know already that you will miss the time when all she could do was roll from her tummy to her back. Sigh. You can't beat the system. You gotta ride the ups and downs and savor the experience. That's the tricky bit -- the knowledge that it's challenging and fun, tiresome and enriching. Can't have one without the other.

So, while you are dealing with all these inconsistencies, you realize you also have a work-life in the outside world that needs your attention. And, I don't know how the super moms do it but I find it really really hard to do justice to the outside world and the baby world. And this is when I haven't really cooked in almost 2 years, save the sudden urge to make a sweet or two on an auspicious day! But, I try anyway with the end result that I am tired and sometimes short fused ("Sometimes?!" -- that would be k screaming from down the hall :p) and yet not satisfied with what I have achieved at the end of the day. There is still a list of 12 tasks and personal goals (including sleep) yet to be achieved and it's already midnight.

Whenever I get into this mode of thinking, well-meaning folks have the tendency to get that faraway wise look as they say, "Think of the moms of yester years who did it all on their own", "Think of the moms who..." blah. blah. Yes, yes. Those moms rock. And I suppose I am selfish in assuming I have a tough life but hey, part of living a fulfilling life is to really live in the moment. So, I am doing that, aren't I? Really soaking up motherhood moments and still trying to have fun. Don't see the need to compare muhself with moms of yesteryears who did it all and still smiled at their husbands with bright-eyed devotion in the mornings as opposed to bleary-eyed, mumbling-to-self lady in pjs who snarls at dear husband in the morning (Uh. That would be me). So, what am I saying? Modern moms have the right to crib too. It's fun to crib (crib = complain as we Indians like to call it). I bet it's healthful (or some such fancy word) to the soul too. To modern motherhood!

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k-yum cable-um (k and the cable)!

Pulled off some neat stuff for k's birthday! Here's a sneak preview of a skit we arranged with clues pointing to a few of k's gifts! More posts with more details. For now, enjoy the show! Actors: - s~, s~ & b~ :) Looks like acting runs in the family! Oh...and can you guess the gifts -- each video has a clue pointing to a gift and all four gifts belong to the same family ;)

Please double-click the video links below. I have withheld embedding permissions.

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Why husband-wife debug sessions don't work!

"Hey k, do you know why this doesn't work?"

k stares at my screen for a few seconds and then assumes a smug expression, "The url looks wrong".

"But, I verified that it works..."

"Has a space. Wrong."

"But..."

"Try this..." and he proceeds to tell me what I should do to fix the problem.

"But, I would argue that..."

"Just try it."

"!@@$#***"

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