In defense of NO

I was watching a programme on parenting the other day. There was this daddy who seemed quite hands on. “So you think one shouldn’t say ‘no’ too frequently to the kids?” asked the pretty compere. “I think one should completely remove the word ‘no’ from one’s dictionary,” he emphasized. “Kids learn primarily by observation. Too much supervision and saying ‘no’ all the time isn’t healthy,” said he.
No saying no? I imagined Hrit wielding his gada unchecked hammering the walls, the sofa, the bed and occasionally Naisha.. and then Naisha with her scissors and glue stick cutting up and pasting whatever she could lay her hands on…bills, clothes, books, her hair…. No no not possible I thought.
But then I have this problem of constantly evaluating myself and wondering if I’m doing the right thing with my kids. Self doubt is always waiting in the wings. Am I a very inflexible mother? I wondered. 
Well I thought I must at least give the dad’s theory a chance. Then Naisha asked if she could do water colours. It was evening, I was tired, the maid had left for the day and we just had about half an hour before I took them down to play. Besides I had promised myself half hour of writing before we went down. And so ‘No’ was my instinct. “Yes,” I said as I thought of the dad on the telly.
I laid out the newspapers, brought out the colours, paper, paintbrushes and water in the balcony. I left the two of them peacefully mixing colours. Great, I thought, it works. I got out my laptop keeping my promise with myself. As I immersed myself in my writing I was conscious of Hrit going in and out of the balcony and happy laughter. “I should have done this before,” I thought vaguely.

 After a while, done with my piece I went out in the balcony and this is what I saw.

Bliss
All the paints had been mixed together into one black muddle. Glasses of water had been poured to make a small black lake. The newspaper which was supposed to keep the paint off the floor had long since given way and lay in a soggy mess. The hands, feet, clothes hadn’t escaped the black either.
If I could have found the TV dad I would have dunked his head in the black pool. No luck, though. I let go the kids with the mandatory telling off… no losing my head.. pat on the back for that.
Then came the cleaning up. I rushed them to the bathroom and followed them wiping their tiny black footprints all the way. I told them to clean themselves while I cleared up the balcony. When I got back to the bathroom I was welcomed with another black mess – the washbasin, the soap, even the pot…
The idea of going down was given up in favour of a big tub bath. This is called having your cake and eating it too – first enjoy a mess-up and then have fun at the bath.
Bring on the foam
Learnings from the exercise:
1. Keep your Yeses close but your Nos closer.
2. Hands on dads are still just dads!
3. Everything you watch on the telly might not work for you.
4. Listen to everyone but follow your instincts.
5. Have faith in yourself. (Repeat 50 times)
While on ‘No’ I have to add that ‘No’ is certainly not all bad. All my life I’ve read books like ‘Don’t say Yes when you want to say No’. I’ve always found it extremely tough to say No even to strangers or to people who don’t really matter to me. Yes I have, though Hrit Naisha might not believe it. In contrast it comes a bit too easily to them. (Finish your milk: NO, Put down your gada: NO, Switch off the television: NO). It’s tough on me yet I hope they retain their ability to say No when they grow up, rather than turning into people pleasers.
Hrit Naisha if you’re listening.. always remember a ‘No’ clear and strong, will keep you away from a lot of harm. It rhymes too. Yay!

If you have a daughter…

… you must learn to
1. Make friends with the colour pink.
2. Drink endless cups of make believe tea and attend many many imaginary parties.
3. Thank her effusively when she does your hair or polishes your nails (even if you look like a clown) and learn to set it right surreptitiously.
4. Buy shiny over the top accessories which you would have earlier dismissed as ‘cheap’ or ‘loud’.
5. Mind your manners for the little lady will remember everything you ever taught her and will sharply point out your slip ups.
6. Make friends with Barbies.
7. Never ever discard things like bits of ribbon, pieces of shiny wrapping paper, old rakhis, mismatched bangles, broken buttons, smooth stones…. No this is not rubbish.. this is ‘treasure’.
8. Stop reasoning with your husband over issues that concern her.. she has him completely wrapped around her little finger (need to fall back upon the cliché because it says it all).
9. Bear with her mega tantrums (oh yes she’s not all angel) and then comfort her when her overactive conscience sends her on a ‘I know I’ve been a very bad girl mama’ trip.
10. Dance. She loves it and expects mama to show her the moves.
11. Explain the intricacies of makeup. She needs to know why aunty has blue colour on her eyes.
12. Wait for your turn at your own dressing table.
13. Handle the waterworks.. she already knows the power of tears.. specially when the daddy is around (refer 8)
14. Enjoy being pampered… she’s a born mama and will mother her mother too.
15. Define what you feel as you watch her growing up – pride, awe, gratitude, happiness or just overwhelming love.

I like to choose!

The right to choose. How important and how dear is that right. This is brought home to me each day by my two kids. Ah the pleasure of choice – to choose what they’ll wear, what they’ll eat (even with the limited options they have thanks to my culinary disability), what they’ll watch on the telly, whether they want to go down to play… choices, choices, choices …till I’m driven up the wall torn invariably between two different ones.

The irony of course is that it’s I who has offered and encouraged the exercising of these rights. Now I’m well and truly caught in a web of my own making.
What happened yesterday underlines how important the whole choice thing is. My younger one, though a habitual food-dodger loves khichri, only because as she says, “I don’t need to chew it.. I can just swallow it.” The older one has a more evolved taste in foods and doesn’t really stick with khichri. Naisha had an upset stomach and so the food preferences suited me fine. I made khichri for her and chapatis for Hrit.
At dinner time I asked Naisha how she was feeling – whether she would like to have khichri or chapatis (knowing full well she’d opt for the former). Predictably enough khichri it was. Just as I was serving them Hrit started up a howl – u didn’t let me choose. Uh oh.. how could I forget??? After trying to convince him that I KNOW he doesn’t like khichri and so had given him chapatis… I gave up. I asked him then, “What will you have Hrit?” And he replied, “Khichri,” only because he had seen the chapatis on his plate.
I know when I’ve lost a battle. I gave him what he wanted. And the boy who cribs forever about not liking khichri, has sometimes howled his guts out because I didn’t make chapatis, cleaned up his plate in a jiffy.
So much for choices.

Exotic flavours of the ad world

“I want Blucon d, mama,” said Hrit one day. Drat! I thought.. the advertising world’s caught up finally. What my dear baby didn’t know was that he’d been drinking ‘Blucon d’ for months together only he called it Nibu Pani. And now when I tried to explain, he thought I didn’t want to give him the real thing… aren’t kids supposed to have faith in their parents? But wait wasn’t it me who taught him to question everything.. me included? Well so then I showed him the pack, which thankfully matched with the one on the telly and peace was restored.
The kids had a relatively sanitized television viewing till they turned four. Before that it was just cds or Cbeebies. Enter the furious fours and advertising has hit them like a deluge.
May I have some ‘exotic flavour’? Hrit’s second demand had me stumped. He didn’t quite catch the ad. He didn’t know what ‘exotic’ meant or what ‘flavour’ was but he wanted it. That was a tough one to get out of.
Hrit being the more avid TV watcher gets it worse than Naisha. One day he asked me for chocos with milk. Personally I could never stomach the soggy combination hence I’d never given it to the kids. Hrit however couldn’t get over the chocolate boat zooming on a river of milk and he pestered me no end. A single spoonful quietened him and he’s stuck to the dry chocos ever since.
Naisha baffled me with her constant demand for ‘milky barbiewefa’ which turned out to be Milky Bar with Wafer… whew.
Once while at their grandparents they had a harried Nanu calling on the phone asking us to pick up a chocolate smoothie, whatever that was. In a fit of affection Naisha nicknamed Hrit chocolate smoothie because ‘he’s sweet and has smooth cheeks’. The name comes and goes depending on how much he has harassed her each day.
When I overheard Naisha saying ‘Aye Bunti.. apka sabun slow hai kya?’ I could only be relieved she modified the ‘tera sabun’ to ‘aapka sabun’. Small mercies.
However the award for the all time high irritant goes to the Poppins ad ‘Doon Kya’. I wish I could really give it to that kid for giving it to my kids.

Fun to be four

Four is a great age to be. Here’s why..
They aren’t really babies any longer so
  • no more bottle boiling
  • no more carrying food/milk to malls
  • no more arduous hours of burping (thank Gawd!)
  • no more having to handle howling kids at night (Generally)
  • no more carrying them around
  • they understand/ share a lot of things
  • they are great fun to talk to
  • they can run small errands (get my phone, switch off the TV, find my keys) of course only when they want to
…. and they aren’t too grown up either so
  • they do not have loads of homework
  • they still love to cuddle and hug and kiss (I so hope they NEVER outgrow that)
  • they still think you are the best (unlike the teens when they’ll get all judgmental)
  • they still think your cooking is out of the world (even I don’t think that)
  • they still don’t seem cheeky or oversmart just cute (another year and cute turns cheeky)