Girls and boys and a lesson in chivalry

Dear H,

The other day as I was
taking my walk I saw you pulling a girl by her T-shirt. At least that’s what it seemed to me. She was yelling and struggling to free herself. I was appalled. I made you let go and
apologise too. Oh I did see those tears of anger, frustration and humiliation that sprang up in your eyes. I didn’t mean to humiliate you but this needed to be done.
Later, much later when
we’d both cooled down, you’d explained, “Ma we were playing Chor Police and I
was a Policeman. We have to hold the ‘thief’ to a count of 10 for him/her to be
declared out.”
“You cannot pull a
girl’s shirt,” I’d said.
“I wasn’t pulling, she
was. I was supposed to be holding her.”
“No matter what, you CANNOT pull a girl’s shirt,”
“Why,” you’d asked, ‘Why
can’t I ? That’s how she catches me too, that’s how I catch the boys and everyone is fine with it.”
You had a bit of a point. 
Here is my answer. Listen patiently for this is something that will stand you in good stead all your life.
The problem was not that you were holding that girl. The problem was that she didn’t like being held. That she was asking you to let go and you weren’t.

It’s simple, actually. If a girl doesn’t like you holding her T shirt, let go. If a boy doesn’t like it, let him go too. LISTEN to what the other person is saying.

Yes it’s tough. Yes it’s easy to get carried away by the game. Yes it’s easy to take people’s reactions for granted. But it’s crucial to remember that it’s a game only if all people playing it are enjoying it, or else it’s plain bullying. Sounds harsh, I know. You didn’t intend to bully, I know. But that’s what it was.

I hope that answers your ‘Why?’.

Here’s what you can do. ASK what everyone is comfortable with. Put the rules in place before you start a game. As you grow up you will realise, many times people don’t even speak out when something makes them uncomfortable. You have to learn to listen, even without words. This ‘watching out’ for the other person’s reaction is very very important. It’s called being ‘sensitive’.

And while we’re at it, here are a few more things for you to remember…

– Caring for other people’s
feelings is way more important than winning any game.

– Your responsibility
doesn’t end with good intentions. If the other person feels hurt, wronged or even uncomfortable by your behaviour, don’t do it. Take time to understand and explain.
– Open
doors, hold the lift, help with bags. Practise chivalry for no other reason but that you are a gentleman. 
– Respect not just girls,
not just people older to you, but everyone. You have an even greater
responsibility if the other person in not as strong as you.

– Never be an unintentional bully.

You might not always win the game but you’ll win over many many more people and that, dear H, is way more important and much more fun too. This is a BIG thing and needs plenty of practise, but you’ll get there. And like I always say ‘You are the best’. I know that.

Hugs and love,

Ma
********

We’ve had our ‘big talk’. And I am hoping it made some impression. Have you handled similar queries from your son/nephew/friend’s son? So how do you teach a boy to be chivalrous without being sexist? How do you tell him he doesn’t need to do this because the other person (girl or not) is weaker but because he is stronger? Mothering, I tell you… is a hard hard task.

*********

Linking to Write Tribe’s super initiative ‘7 days of rediscovering your blogging grove’ where we blog seven days in a row according to a format. The idea is inspired by Darren Rowse. Today we had to ‘ANSWER A QUESTION’. 

Go find some more answers at the Write Tribe blog.

7 reasons why non-dancers should Zumba

The music is the awesomest

It fills your head completely.
Your ears ring with it hours after the session is over. No matter where you hear it even though you’re rooted to the chair or the ground (yeah we‘re talking self-conscious non dancers here) you’re dancing in your
head every bit as well as your instructor does.

You make the coolest friends

and that’s one of the most delightful outcomes. I mean how can you not bond with people with whom you’re making a fool of yourself, each day for an hour? It’s a partners-in-crime kind of bonding – the strongest kind.

It’s liberating …

..to not have to worry about who’s thinking what and about who’s watching. (Everyone’s too busy getting their steps right, anyway). Only my two-left footed friends will fully appreciate how wonderful this feels. Nowhere else in the world would I try the stuff I do in that Zumba room. Okay.. maybe ‘try to do’ would be more accurate but what the heck! it doesn’t really matter.

       I totally adore this one.
‘Accidental solos’ 🙂
I do a lot of those.

It’s a no-pressure fun thing

This is no treadmill-crosstrainer routine so it’s not a predictable, same-same everyday kind of thing. It’s a new day everyday. And it’s not a dance either so there’s no ONE PERFECT way to do it.

You collect endorphins for the whole day

– that happy hormone that causes euphoria and tides you through stress. Wiki tells me that exercising releases endorphins. It adds that smiling, eating and gossipping also ‘do the trick’. Well Zumba takes care of the smiling bit (we do a lot of that, I might add) and gossipping in the dance breaks is the norm. Now if only I could grab a bite of chocolate along, life would so be complete.

Your stamina goes up like crazy

If you can stay moving on your feet for one full hour – not just moving moving but jumping, bending, lunging – well that’s stamina, right?

You might actually lose weight

but that’s such a side effect – a desirable one – but a side effect nonetheless.

Linking to Write Tribe’s super initiative ‘7 days of rediscovering your blogging grove’ where we blog seven days in a row according to a format. Today we had to do a list and you just read mine. The idea is inspired by Darren Rowse. Go read other fun checklists at the Write Tribe blog.

#Microblog Mondays – Chests and Breasts!

“I want to run at the Pinkathon too”, said H this weekend. I spoke about how I was participating in it here and H got all excited too.

“You cannot”, said I, “it’s for women only”.
“Why?” 
“Well because the race is to generate awareness about breast cancer and only women get breast cancer so the race is for women only.”
“Why don’t men get breast cancer?”
“Because men don’t have breasts.”
“But I have a breast”, said H pointing to his….well chest.

Apparently this is something I’d overlooked, using the unisex ‘chest’ rather than ‘breast’ when talking to the kids and they ended up using them interchangeably.

“Ummm.. That’s your chest, not a ‘breast’ “, said I struggling to explain the difference. 

After a long drawn out explanation H finally caught on. Then nodding his head wisely he summed it up – “Oh so women have breasts on their chests and men just have chests.” 

Yeah right.

Linking to # Microblog Mondays hosted by Stirrup Queens.

Edited to add: Going by the comments that breast cancer was not so uncommon among men any longer I decided to pass on the information to H. Here’s what he had to say..
“So some men get it too?”
“Yes.”
“Do some men also have a uterus?”
“No, they don’t.”
“Can you tell me a few diseases that ONLY men get?”

I’m off now..

#Microblog Mondays – Of Friends and Fitting in

A few weeks back as the twins were recovering from viral fever, they sat down to craft gifts for their teachers. H came up with this tippy-tippy-top flower for his teacher. He spent some time painstakingly making and colouring it, no mean achievement given that he’s not such a pro at either.

He put it away safely in his cupboard waiting to get well so he could take it to school. Then  his friend dropped by. He looked at the ‘flower’, examined it and asked, ‘What is this?’ I was waiting for H to proudly declare ‘I made this for my teacher’. To my complete surprise he replied, ‘Oh this? It’s just something my sister made. I don’t know why she left it in my cupboard.’

If only he understood what his
favourite author said!

He was embarrassed to admit he’d made it!! 

I cannot tell how saddened I am. 
Long long back when he was a toddler he asked me for a kitchen set. He loves to cook. He used to take it down to play. Then one day he told me, “I’ll play with my kitchen set only at home.” And then slowly he gave it up altogether. 

Of course that might have been a sign of changing interests, which would have been fine. But this, seems like pure peer pressure. My son is growing up and trying to ‘fit in’ and I’m scared. Not that he might not fit in, but that he might lose himself while trying to do so.

A big talk is in order! Any ideas how to go about it?

Linking to # Microblog Mondays hosted by Stirrup Queens.

7 reasons being a bad cook is cool

I’m no cook. It was only after I had the twins that I tried any kind of cooking. I mastered the art of making the perfect bottle of milk (Hey it’s not easy okay, the temperature has to be just so and the amount of powder all measured and the water just that much). I learnt to dish out a mean Cerelac too. 

As the kids grew so did my cooking repertoire. Stewed apples, soups, khichdis, kheers – I learnt them all moving onto idlis and dosas. Then a few years back, unable to find a decent cook, the entire chore fell to me. I went about it in a pretty scientific manner balancing out the carbs, proteins, vitamins and minerals. The only casualty I presume, was ‘taste’. But I persisted, to The Husband’s dismay and continued dissatisfaction. 

That pretty much summed up our situation.

The kids of course knew no better since they’d been brought up on my cooking all along. They plied me with compliments as they crunched up cakes as hard as biscuits and happily ate up my lopsided chapatis

Sometimes I wondered if N grows up to be a famous actress (which is her current ambition) and some inane paper like apna ToI asks her for a favourite dish and she says (with that world-weary air typical of celebrities), ‘I love ghar ka khana. Specially my mum’s watery lauki with her special burnt-aroma rice.‘ Would that be a cringe-worthy moment for me or one of pride? 
Ummm… I’m not sure at all.

But I’m rambling. The thing is recently, fed up with the daily chore, I finally got a cook again and what bliss it has been. Check out the top seven reasons why being a bad cook works for me.

1. The most obvious one of course – you get to hire a cook and are free to do more reading or writing or just about anything else.

2. You are playing your part in boosting the economy by providing employment.

3. When you have a cook and the food is not so good, instead of going in defensive mode you can shake your head like the rest of the family and before anyone else can say it you pipe up, “Someone really needs to talk to the cook.” (without any intention whatsoever of doing it of course. You do not want to annoy her now, do you?) And when she does a good job you puff up your chest with pride and say, “It’s an art you know, finding the perfect cook.”
4. When you do make something decent it’s such happiness. Even after having made hundreds of dosas over the past years, when the batter spreads out perfectly and comes off without sticking It’s like a miracle unfolding. Watching that chapati puff up makes you feel like a total domestic goddess, each and every time.

5. Then there’s everyone else’s sense of awe and wonder when you land that perfect dish once in a long long while.

6. Your cool aprons always remain spotless because all you’ve done in them is mixed the salad.

7. You never take anyone else’s cooking for granted and hence are a favourite dinner guest at all your friends’ parties.

So are you the ‘cooking’ kind or the ‘get-a-cook’ kind?