Author: Tulika

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On standing up for yourself

I am a non-confrontationist. I’ve been one all my life. During the decade or more of my working life there were a few times when I had a difference of opinion with a colleague, an argument maybe, but mostly I managed without much of a fight. When a co-wroker was specially infuriating I fretted and fumed endlessly but always in solitude or I would unburden myself before the hapless husband. Having done that I would always go back to work the next day with a smile on my face.
When people stepped onto my toes, I’d not just remove my toes I’d also have a smile for them. Nope I wasn’t a Buddha. I resented each unfairness. But I let it go because of my fear – an irrational dread – of creating a scene. I’d back off even if I was right, even more if the other person was rude, loud or overly aggressive. Some of it sprang from being a very self-conscious person. I wrote about it earlier here .
But I thought it was a good philosophy – I mean, why rankle someone when you can get by without?
Then the twins came along. 

It’s one thing to voluntarily subject yourself to unfairness, however small, and a whole different thing to watch the kids being subjected to it either by inclusion (because I wouldn’t stand up for them – ‘Let it go’, I’d say) or because they were picking up what I practiced.

I watched N agreeing with things she didn’t really like, letting people take her for granted, bending backwards for her playmates.

“There really is nothing worse than seeing your weaknesses reflected in your kids.

H was a different story. If I said ‘Let it go’ he’d say ‘But why? Isn’t it unfair.” It was. He was right. It was unfair and dishonest – dishonest to your own self. He bugged me till I had to face up to what I was doing:
“I was being nicest to the nastiest person.
That was the unpleasant truth about me : My best side was reserved for the person most likely to be nasty to me.
Once I knew the truth I could no longer talk myself out of answering some more uncomfortable questions. 
– Is that what I want the twins to be? 
– To give in to bullies (kids or adults) just because they were afraid of a scene? 
– To bear with untrue/unfair allegations because they didn’t want to put up a fight? 
– To give in to pressure because they didn’t know how to protest? 
– To always take the more peaceful, the easier way out of situations?

I knew the answer to that one. 

And I made myself start over. It isn’t easy to let go of a personality trait – one you’ve lived with for decades. However, I have started to ‘take the bull by it’s horns’ to use a cliche. I’m not good at it at all. Repartees don’t come easily to me. I still am dumbstruck by outright rudeness.
Yet I have begun to find my voice sometimes. I register a protest, even if it is a tiny one, even if it is much after the incident, even if it seems a tad out of context. I make myself go back to the offender and say what I have to – that I didn’t think their behaviour was appropriate, that I did not agree with the way they treated me or the kids.

It’s hard but I’m doing it. It’s not perfect either but it’s a start. Sometimes it’s necessary to tell the person stepping on your toes to take his feet elsewhere.

That’s a lesson I want the twins to remember.
***********

Linking up to Finish the Sentence Friday. Heartfelt thanks to Leah from Little Miss Wordy for this chance at introspection with her sentence prompt ‘Once I knew the truth I could no longer talk myself out of…’ Also thanks to Kristi from Finding Ninee  for hosting.

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To boil or not to boil?

I was at the doctor’s a few days back with an extremely painful neck and
shoulder. Looking at my X-Ray he tut tutted all over it then pronounced
‘Cervical Spondilitis’ – which I believe is pretty common these days. He also
found ‘abysimally low’ levels of Vitamins D and B.
He went on to prescribe,
along with a bunch of medicines, more time outdoors (which I liked), swimming
(which thrilled the kids since I’m never able to make time to take them
swimming) and a bunch of medicines. He also asked me to stop boiling the milk that I had everyday. 
What? Not boil milk?
Hasn’t that been an intrinsic part of my morning routine? Just as it was my
mom’s and her mom’s too.
However, what the doctor
said made sense – If we are drinking pasteurised milk we don’t really need to
boil it. Pasteurisation meant it had been boiled and cooled already, the
bacteria had been taken care of. When we boil it again, he said, we kill the
vitamins, specially those of the B Group.
A look at google pretty
much confirmed what he said but confused me too. I had no clue there was so
much science to boiling milk the correct way. I mean you put it in a pan, put
it on the stove, watch it till it comes up then switch it off. Right?
Wrong. I found a bunch of dos and don’ts and I got so confused that I
wiped them clean off my mind.
I decided to do my own
thinking. 


Here’s why I felt I needed to boil the milk: 
1. The packets are often so dirty that it is difficult to believe the milk they contain is safe.
2. After boiling I
could remove the layer of cream and get toned milk (the fight against
fat, remember?)
3. The milk lasts longer
once it is boiled.
4. And lastly of course – generations of habit.
I have now struck a mid-path
to make sure I get my vitamins:

1. I wash the
packets thoroughly before I cut them open. 
2. I switched to double
toned milk. A friend suggested switching to cow’s milk – I might do that – it’s
lighter on the stomach.
3. I try to consume it on
the same day and boil only what I need to carry over to the next day.
It seems to be working
fine as of now.
So do you boil your milk
or was it only me all this while?

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When I look in the mirror, I see..

 

When I look in the mirror, I see…..

my daughter’s small face peeking from behind me, a smile lighting it up like sunshine,
‘May I please leave my hair open today?’ she asks.
I turn back and look at her, ‘If you’re going to play, you make a pony, you know that.’
‘Okay,’ she agrees reluctantly taking over the mirror.
I move away to see my son dashing down with his shirt half tucked in, hair askew, collar standing.
I make a grab for him, ‘You can’t go down like that. Take two minutes to stand before the mirror and look at yourself.’
‘Excuse me,’ he says to the daughter with mock sweetness, squeezing in beside her, trying to smooth down his hair with one hand while stuffing his shirt into his jeans with the other then dodges me and runs away, collar still standing.
She then takes over the mirror. I watch her tying a neat little pony, meticulously tucking her hair in before skipping off. A sigh and a smile and I get on with my day.

 

When I look in the mirror, I see… 

a cushion flying right at me. I duck and it crashes into its reflection. H tries to look contrite while N chortles, ‘Bad aim!!’ And I turn pretending to be angry only to pick up the offending cushion and join in the fight. I see the look of surprise on the twins’ faces turn to delight as I thump each of them in turn. I win hands down till they decided to team up and have me down in a moment. Finally we all dissolve into laughter and collapse onto the bed in a happy heap.

 

 

When I look in the mirror, I see …. 

 

Deep laugh lines, crows feet by the eyes.
A head of brown hair with some silver surprise.
A few frown lines up there on the forehead
For worries are part of a life well lead.


What I really see is a contented me
a contented me smiling right back at me.


But she has a complaint, or is it a plea?
She’d like to perhaps, see a little more of me.
Yes, I assure her, just a few years more
And then I’ll have time, time galore


For now let me be, for a few years let go,
I can’t stop now lest I miss the kids grow.

 

Once they’ve grown and have learnt to fly
That’s when we’ll talk, we’ll talk – you and I
But until that happens I have little time for you
a glimpse or two will just have to do.

***********

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How to snatch a siesta from the jaws of 4-yr-olds

Long ago when I was in school I read a piece about a dad who
devised games to ensure he got his forty winks each afternoon. I have no clue
why it stayed with me. Perhaps God was preparing me for the twins even when I
was a carefree teen. Faced with long summer afternoons when I couldn’t keep my
eyes open unless I stuck my lids to my brows while the twins bubbled with
unfathomable energy I came up with my own games to keep them busy while I caught my nap. 

Read on and you might find something you can use.

 1. You Lilliputians me Gulliver
So
Gulliver is washed up from the ocean and lies sprawled on the shore (that’s you on
your cool bedroom floor). The Lilliputians (that’s the twins) busy themselves tying him up to sofa
and table legs, making speeches (Who is this giant? Where did he come from?)
and organizing meetings (What should be done with him? How shall we feed him).
And you get your siesta.


2. You Ram/Raavan me Kumbhakaran
Ram
might have come to Sita’s rescue in this classic Indian tale but it was
Kumbhakaran who will come to yours. What’s not to like in a giant who got to
sleep six months a year, ate for the other six and threw in a punch or two
when required? While the kids fight it out as Ram or Raavan you catch your forty
winks. Let the drums beat on and the trumpets be blown, Kumbhakaran shall sleep on.
The nose ticking can get to you once in a while otherwise life’s good. If your
child is anything like my H he’s sorted for Raavan. The other can choose between
the righteous Ram or the tragic Sita.


3. You Prince Charming me Sleeping Beauty
You
of course are the sleeping beauty (whether you’re a mom or a dad is quite immaterial).
Your child is Prince Charming hacking and fighting his way desperately through
the enchanted forest to save you, while you hope and pray he takes his time.
The
other twin poses a bit of a problem. If she is like N she might fancy herself the
princess. All you have to do then, is to convince her that the role offers no chance to show
off her acting prowess (yeah, we parents are creative). And so she shall become
the evil fairy slyly putting obstacles in the noble prince’s path. The prince
is delayed (Yay!) and both are occupied (Double Yay!).


4. You the parlour help me a customer
Set
out interesting looking paraphernalia – a bottle of spray filled with imaginary
water, (there’s nothing worse than being shocked out of a blissful sleep with a
cold spray of water while you’re probably dreaming of deep unending sleep),
some bowls with tiny bits of cream (hand them over the bottle and rest assured
they’ll empty it out) and some slices of cucumber. Find a soft sofa or bed,
close your eyes and bliss out.

Caution:
Don’t let small things like spilt water or half eaten cucumber slices faze you
– you did get your siesta, didn’t you?


5. You captor/saviour me the hostage
This classic game was absolutely designed for parents. One of the kids is your
evil captor and the other your noble savior. Give them soft bits of twine (Stoles,
scarves and dupattas work best) and let them tie you up – make sure you’re
comfortable. Let them drag you to a deep dark cave (essentially your bedroom,
with the curtains drawn and lights switched off). Let them fight it out then
while you sneak in your catnap.

PS: Don’t let gender issues put you off. If you’re ready to play Gulliver/Sleeping Beauty your son/daughter will be Prince or Sita or Raavan happily. Kids have incredible imaginations. And it’s a good place to begin smashing the stereotypes, what say? The siesta is the icing, or was it the cake to begin with?

Happy Napping folks!

This one is done for the prompt ‘How to…’ given by the the wonderful folks at Marathon Bloggers.

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Why holidays without kids are essential for moms

I wasn’t born an Obsessivemom. Truly I wasn’t. Like I said before
I wasn’t even a kid-friendly person till the twins came along. And then I was transformed into a mum – all of me. And I’m not complaining. Well most of the time I’m not. Oh okay… I don’t really mean it even if I do.

Every mum needs a break

But mums need a break, even obsessive moms. Not just from the kids but also from home and the entire shebang that comes with it – Is there bread for tomorrow, Did I put the curd for setting, The printer’s down again, Did the kids finish their homework? What shall I make for lunch, Ah the maid isn’t coming in again — A break from the mental preoccupation that comes with the territory.
Last week, after much debating (with myself) and plenty of prodding (from friends and family) we planned a break without the kids – three of my pals and I. I won’t write about what we did there. No, we didn’t paint the town red, we didn’t booze till the sun came up, we didn’t break into a song and dance in the market place – yet it was a holiday we’re not likely to forget in a hurry.It was a holiday where the usual everyday stuff was special in its simplicity, only because we were four relaxed women shorn of our everyday responsibilities and worries. We had no agenda, no places to visit, no shopping to do, no hurry to get anywhere.

I recommend it strongly for every mum – in fact the more you are into your kids the more you need to do this.

Here’s why:

It puts you in touch with your before-the-kids-came-along self 

– often the more fun carefree you. With the kids you become a different person – you need to be a different
person – responsible and grown up and more than a little anxious.
While on holiday we broke our own rules. We had snacks for lunch, roamed the markets till late at night, stopped at whatever took our fancy, stayed up talking books past midnight then lazed in bed next morning and lingered over breakfast.
An outing like this puts you in touch with the fun-relaxed you, reminding you of the joy of letting go once in a while. When you come back with that reminder you become a more fun-relaxed mum – and that’s good for the kids.

It’s gives you a reality check..

…bringing home the fact that the kids can survive without you and
happily so. Which, for a sane mum, is the most liberating of thoughts. It makes
you less clingy, (If you thought only kids were clingy, think again)
encouraging you to give the kids more freedom, equipping them to handle
more responsibility which is good for them, right?

It shows you a new side to your kids

My SIL, who was with the twins while I was away, said she grew sick of listening to
them saying, ‘Mama said… , ‘Mama said…’, ‘Mama said…’. This was amazing
because it meant they had actually been listening while I was talking and
were doing what I asked them to in my absence. Woohoo a miracle! With this new found perspective I can perhaps begin
to perceive them as somewhat responsible tweens rather than the babies I
think them to be…. and that’s good for them.

Oh and it’s rejuvenating

..which means you can get back to the task of mothering with ever
more happiness and enthusiasm and the belief that you are on the right track.
Which means you can be a better mum — and that again – yes you got it – is good
for the kids.

So for your kids’ sake – take that break.

Disclaimer: Let me clarify – this is just a way of selling the idea to mums who think they’ll be deserting the kids if they go on vacation. You should do this more for yourself than for the kids or the husband. You should do it even if life for them isn’t quite perfect when you’re away. You should do it even if they protest. They’ll learn to value you more when you’re around.

You owe it to yourself.

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