Supermom!

When that genetically mutated spider bit Peter Parker his (Parker’s obviously) life changed forever. Something similar happened to me when I had the twins.

At first they were rather inconspicuous, these special powers that came to me.

Before the twins I was pretty much a Kumbhakaran – that gentle giant blessed with a sleeping curse. I couldn’t function without my 8-9 hours everyday. With the arrival of the children I began waking up many times a night – on my own – sometimes to change nappies, to feed and burp and sometimes simply to run a finger under the twins’ noses reassuring myself that they were real living people. Just like that, I was rid of my addiction.

That was the beginning.

As they grew my powers only increased. Like Parker I discovered in myself super strength and agility.

If he had superhuman reflexes that let him scale walls and fly over traffic to save people, I could sprint, do a back flip and dive right in just as one of the twins fell off the sofa.

If he was strong enough to stop a running train, I could stop a running cycle….  make that two running cycles, before they hurtled into simultaneous twin accidents.

If he could spin a web fine as silk and strong as steel, I could spin tales so intricate so elaborate, as to keep two hyper active minds quiet for hours on end.

As the teens approach my superpowers seem to be growing.

My memory might have gone on leave but my senses, By God, they’re in an overdrive. Just like Parker, I find my eyesight sharper, my hearing more acute and my sense of smell can rival that of a sniffer bomb squad dog.

Is that a scream of laughter or distress – I can tell without going into the room. Was the food found under our apartment window dumped by the twins or was it the old man on the floor below our’s – I’d know. (It was the old man, in case you were wondering). Is it an upset tummy or experiments with my makeup kit that was keeping them for hours in the washroom – I can always tell.

I can look through closed doors, listen to merest whispers and smell out secrets.
I successfully busted hair-trimming sessions before the twins had shorn each other off.
I put an end to ice-cream smuggling no matter how soundlessly the freezer door was opened.
I smell burning cookies and douse the flames before they take the house down.
One time I even staved off floods when the twins turned on the taps and blocked the drains to make a swimming pool in the washroom.

As I sit here with a self-satisfied smile writing this self-congratulatory piece I find my mom-senses tingling already. Got to go folks, time to spin another web and reel them in.

Linking up with

Mackenzie at Reflections from Me

Also joining Deepa at  Kreative Mommy for #MondayMommyMoments.
Kreativemommy.com

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.

10 things to remember on a journey without kids

I had often wondered if/when I could ever leave the children and travel on my own. Well, finally it happened. As it turns out the Husband was home and it was just four days (out of which two were over the weekend). 

Off I went.

It felt weird – to say the least – to be travelling without two small hands to hold on to. If you’re a mum too and have forgotten quite what it’s like to travel alone you might find these pointers useful.

1. It’s normal to carry just a single piece of baggage. Nah, you haven’t forgotten anything. And it’s not even important whether the bag is pink, blue or yellow.

2. On the flight, you are not allowed to cuddle people sitting on either side of you (to be on the safe side, keep your hands off the hand rests).

3. If your boarding pass says window seat, you actually get to sit at the window.

4. You can survive a two-hour flight without a visit to the loo. As a bonus – you also survive take offs and landings without admonishing your neighbours to ‘hold it in’ even while wondering anxiously if they will hold it in.

5. You can get through a flight without a single apology.

6. You don’t need to ask the airline staff for favours – no change of seats, no extra water, no extra tissues to mop off said water.

7. Airport shopping zones are a grossly misunderstood lot. Far from the disaster-waiting-to-happen-zones you thought them, they make for blissful browsing.

8. You get to decide what you want to do on the flight – reading, listening to music and sleeping being real options (over visiting loos, ensuring co-passengers don’t get kicked/ pushed, mopping messes and refereeing seats).

9. The baggage carousal is just that – a baggage carousal, not a forbidden slide you cannot allow your kid on.

10. A two hour flight is way too long. After a point you don’t quite know what to do with yourself.

A last bit of advice. Sit back, relax and try to enjoy yourself just as much as the kids are enjoying your absence back home.

Linking to ABC Wednesday for the letter ‘J’ for Journey. Joyful thanks to Mrs Nesbitt who thought up this wonderful meme.

People on the playground

I’m obsessivemom remember? So today in search of ‘People’ I go to my favourite playing field – the children’s school… on Sports Day.. and I’ll see what ‘people’ I find. So are you with me folks? This is going to be fun. 

Even as we saunter in.. “Excuse me, please,” says someone and breezes ahead without a backward glance. 

This is a lady in a hurry for she’s the 
Eager-beaver mum
She’s the first to arrive, first to find the best seat. She’s the one who will crane her neck and strain her eye to spot her kid in the crowd. She will wave and blow kisses as soon as she does so and will continue to wave long after the child’s melted away in the sea of uniforms. But hey what’s this pushing at her chair, poking at her feet blocking her view of her darling daughter? 

Move over.. he’s the
Photo-fanatic dad
He is armed with multiple cameras and that’s his tripod. He will set it up with great care (for the tripod not for other parents who are mere obstacles in his photographic journey). Oh he will smile out a perfunctory sorry, for he is a gentleman. But it’s advisable to keep your distance as he tries some fifty camera angles until finally he finds the perfect one. Then he will proceed to video the entire show. Entire! All the while he will issue instructions to the wife to keep clicking stills. He’s not merely clicking pictures, he’s making memories for his dear darling. If she wins the race he’ll pluck out his camera from the tripod and race to the victory stand to zoom in onto that winning smile. It has to be captured in all it’s nuances, right? Aargh… what’s this in front of his camera?

Oooh don’t mess with her for she’s the 
You-gotta-win mum
You’ve got to hand it to her for her focus. She’s here only for that one single race, the one in which her Rohan is running. Once the whistle blows she is in their element. “Come on Rohan.. Come on .. Faster baby..faster… We’ve done faster at home.. No no no.. DO NOT look back.. I TOLD you not to look back EVER.. Eyes at the finish line.. Come on..”. She has the strongest lungs and the loudest claps. Oops Rohan slipped.. “Get up Rohan.. you can still do it,” says she. No matter that it was she who distracted him in the first place, no matter that little Rohan couldn’t care less. No sir.. She’s unstoppable. If Rohan doesn’t win there’s bound to have been foul play. “Didn’t you see the winner started off before the whistle?” Or “The judges didn’t look properly. I SAW Rohan cross the line first. Yes I did.

Relax lady will you? I am trying to hold a conversation here,” says the gentleman in the suit. He’s the 
when-will-this-be-over dad
He’s the busy executive always on his iPhone. At the same time he is trying to study some figures on his iPad. He’s probably been dragged there by the kids and his wife. (Lord save him if he has to deal with an eager-beaver mum or worse a you-gotta-win mum). He’ll shut his iPad for a moment when his son’s race comes on. Even as young Vedant runs to the finish line he’s probably thinking..’Gosh I forgot to tell Smriti to send off that fax’. The crowd, the noise don’t much register. However there’s one person who’s really studying the crowd. 

She’s our fashionista mum
She’s impeccably dressed. Her straight dark black hair fall to her shoulders in one shiny wave. As she settles the d&g glares on her head she flashes meticulously applied coral nail paint on her perfectly manicured fingers. Her shoes are Jimmy Choos and her bag is Gucci. A delicate umbrella shields her from the sun. She cannot risk the tan. She scours the crowd rating the men and women. “Blue denims everywhere.. boring, boring! Oooh burgundy trousers.. must get one of those. That fuchsia’s great. But teaming it with black? Nope doesn’t do anything for it, white’s the colour. Yeah fuchsia and white. Ugh.. sneakers.. orange sneakers..”

Don’t balk fashionista mum, meet the 
Super-sporty mum
She’s the one who’ll gladly spend her life in sports shoes and a tee that says ‘I PLAY TO WIN’. She’s the one who cannot wait for the kids’ races to end so that it’s the parents’ turn. Woe be to her if she’s saddled with a when-will-this–be-over dad or even a photo-fanatic dad who doesn’t want to partner her. But she’s a sport right? She doesn’t give up. So she’ll look around asking everyone with a smile you cannot resist .. “will you be my partner,” till she strikes gold. If you partner her make sure you have running shoes on for Boy! can she run!

A confession…
I’d put myself in the eager-beaver mum class.. well I have to be that since The Husband is the quintessential when-will-this-be-over dad. Oh the arguments we have! It’s good for the kids, though. We do manage to even each other out a bit and strike a balance. What kind are you?

It’s Day 6 at the Write Tribe Festival of Words. The prompt for today is ‘People’. For some great takes from Write Tribers go here.

An unsent letter

Dear M,

This letter has been pending long enough. People say one shouldn’t let negative feelings fester, that they need to be aired for a new start. Well so here I am.

You were once my best friend. All through my early years at school you held my hand. Each time I found the world scary and confusing, or felt insecure and inept I just had to spend some time with you and I’d feel my confidence returning. When I was with you I forgot to be scared for you spelt all that was familiar and fun. We had the best of times. Remember those lazy winter days when we’d put on Beatles and rock together? Oh those were the happiest times of my life.

I depended on you, so very much, for years together and you were always there.

Thanks to you I sailed through my class 10 with a super score.

Then came class 11 and things changed. Our friendship soured. It might have had to do something with the change of Boards. Besides, Junior College held loads of distractions and I might not have contributed enough to our relationship. I agree part of it was my fault. However once I came to my senses I tried, tried really hard to salvage our relationship. Do you remember those long sad hours when I’d sit with you trying to figure you out? But you made no attempt to mend fences. Cold and distant you locked me out completely.

Graduation was pure drudgery. I made other friends but your place remained vacant. My grades suffered but that wasn’t of consequence. I missed you. Sorely. Then that day when the teacher was giving me a talking to, there you were – not even attempting to hide your smile. How cruel was that! That day you broke my heart.

When I stepped into the corporate world you were always around but I made sure I kept a distance. I skipped lines, gave up finance for marketing, then marketing for journalism trying to find a place where I would never ever meet you.

Since then we’ve met occasionally. I bump into you at the grocers or at the vegetable vendor’s stall and we pass each other by with a cursory nod.

Over the last few years I’ve seen the twins interacting with you and I see a bond forming. We might not be friends any longer but I see you reciprocating their tentative offers of friendship. You know I’m a sucker for happy endings and in this beginning I see our happy ending. Through the twins maybe we’ll be friends again.

Dear Mathematics..I do miss you still.

Love,
OM

This letter is part of the Write Tribe’s initiative. This week we are writing letters to
The person who caused you a lot of pain / Some one you wish you could forgive.
For more fun and interesting letters click Write Tribe Letters Unsent