Category: Parenting

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Food for thought

A few days back during an open house meet, N’s teacher suggested I get her to do one short composition everyday to rid her of her fear/laziness of writing. One of their recent write ups was on Rakshabandhan. What they wrote, proved to be quite an eye opener.N wrote two perfunctory lines on the rakhi tying and then went on to talk about a radio which she had got as a gift. H too got by with a few words on rakhi and then described in great detail how we went out to lunch with an account of all what we ate.

Knowing my children I hadn’t expected anything too sentimental but I certainly had expected them to talk about the spirit of the festival. I was sorely disappointed.

When we were kids rakhshabandhan meant posting the rakhis to our cousins a week in advance and that was that. Even on the rare occasions we were together with our cousins, getting something from them was a total no. In fact gifts were never related to occasions – not even birthdays. Rakshabandhan – definitely not. When the girls at school would discuss their rakhi ‘spoils’ laughingly asking each other, “Kitni kamayi hui?” I’d look on with wonder and, I have to admit, some envy too.

However over the years the message became only too firmly ingrained – rakshabandhan was about handmade rakhis, formal clothes, roli and tika maybe even laddoos and kaju katlis but that was it.

When H and N came along the festival finally found a home with us and became something we all looked forward to. So secure was I in my belief that the kids would imbibe its true spirit by default, that I made no effort to reinforce it for them. Worse, I saw no harm in small gifts because I thought that would make the day ‘perfect’. It is tough to resist those super happy smiles on their faces.

How wrong was I. Of course the gifts brought smiles, but that was a temporary, fleeting happiness at the cost of something far more precious. Instead of celebrating their very special bond, what remained of the festival in their minds, was the gift and the eating out.

I wonder how my mum got it so right. She was almost half my age when she had us, she had no Internet to guide her, no mommy support groups to help her along and years of conservatism to struggle against. She had much more on her mind than I do. Yet I never saw her obsess about ‘mothering’, never saw her struggle with decisions, specially those related to my sister and me. I don’t think she ever consciously thought “I need to explain to my children that rakshabandhan isn’t about gifts” and yet she managed to get the message across so clearly. How did she do that? I have no idea.
I will now borrow a page from her Great Book of Life principles and try to pass some of it on to H and N. If subtelties won’t do, I’ll simply have to blunder in and spell it out for them for this is a lesson too important to let go – for them and for me.
I like to think there’s time yet to put right what I messed. Next year on rakhi I hope I’ll get to see two very different compositions – compositions that’ll come a bit from the heart. I hope the day will bring to the children a renewed realisation of how truly miraculous it is to have someone by your side right from the moment of your birth – a brother, a sister, a friend for life.
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A letter to Lakshmi ji

Dear Lakshmi ji,

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be a stay-at-home-mom? A SAHM with a pair of super energetic kids, a super busy husband and a house with a perpetually open door through which umpteen kids stream in an out continuously dripping food and toys?

I don’t think so.

The only kid you’re ever even seen with is your nephew Ganapati, who, with due apologies, is not the really sporty kind. He doesn’t bug you to death to look for his bat or to fish for his ball under the car. He doesn’t hang from curtain rods bringing down pelmets giving you a minor heart attack besides saddling you with the task of carpenter hunting.

You’ve never had to sit with him over his milk and vegetables appearing to be patient while your mind buzzes with the thousand tasks awaiting your attention. Give him his plate of modaks and laddoos and you can get on which your chores (which aren’t really too many).

And no, you’ve never needed to mess your hands making those laddoos either, what with the millions struggling to get into your good books. They load you with enough food to sate even the six heads of your other nephew Kartikeya.

Then there’s The Husband. Yours is supposed to take care of the world so he’d hardly need looking after. He’s not diabetic. He doesn’t need to be pushed to go for his daily walk or watched with a hawk eye lest he empty the mithai box. All you need to do is provide him with your sweet company.. which wouldn’t be so tough given your stress-free life.

As for the cleaning … how much cleaning would one need when one lives on a snake in the middle of the ocean?

So then…

What right do you have to go looking for the cleanest, prettiest houses with beautifully done up tables piled with homemade goodies each Diwali?

For a change… just this once, don’t let that barbie littered doorway scare you away. What? You see no one praying? Hey they’re too excited to sit quietly with folded hands. They’d rather sing and dance.. they’re expecting you, don’t worry.. do walk in. Step around the dolls, Oh and mind those cars –  they might trip you, Oops sorry! did you mess your sari? Those diyas are being painted to welcome you. Don’t mind that sink full of vessels.. that food was made in your honour.

Don’t look at the dust on the shelves, look at the smiling faces in the frames on them. Don’t look for the most scintillating fireworks, look for the happiest face behind the smallest sparkler. Don’t look for the fanciest lights, look for the attention and care with which those diyas were painted. Don’t look at that crooked rangoli look at the thrill on the girl’s face, it’s her first.

Rather than the cleanest, prettiest and most peaceful houses, how about looking for the noisiest, cosiest and happiest homes? Try it this Diwali. You might find them more fun than the squeaky clean ones.

Warm regards

Obsessivemom

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A dilemma

It’s another fancy dress at the kids’ school and I’m in a bit of a fix. The theme this time is Nursery Rhymes. “Star, I want to be a star,” said Naisha as soon as she came home. “Twinkle twinkle little star. I already know the rhyme,” she chirped.  “We’ll see,” said I while thinking “Won’t do, too simplistic.” They have been singing that one since they could barely talk. I was hoping I could convince her for something ‘better’, according to me, of course.

After some thought, I arrived at the Queen of Hearts. It would be nice, thought I. It’s different, and it would be something Naisha liked — a red dress with shiny, glittery hearts, a crown, maybe and a plate of tarts.. perfect.

Not so, thought Naisha. The deterrent, of course, is, that she’d have to learn a new rhyme. She can do it easily enough, I know, she’s smart.. but the thing is she doesn’t want to.

So here’s my dilemma

If I push the Queen of hearts…
It’ll be an uphill task as she’ll need plenty of convincing.
Of course, she’ll have to learn a new rhyme.
She might worry about her lines (I know she’s a worrier, specially on stage) and her apprehensions might ruin the pleasure of the performance.
BUT
It is a nice concept.
It’s ‘different’.
She’ll certainly enjoy dressing up.

OR

Should I go with the Star
It’s her idea.
She is comfortable with it.
She’ll be more confident on stage.
BUT
The idea really is too simplistic.
She’s capable of much more than this.

Am I being a Chinese Mum in trying to push her? Or am I being a laid back mum in letting her be? How will she know what she’s capable of if no one pushes her? She certainly isn’t the self-motivating kind. If she does well this time maybe next time she’ll be more confident in taking up a challenge instead of opting for the easy route and sticking to the safe and simple.

What do you think? Star or Queen?

Edited to add: She woke up this morning saying a ‘yes’ to the Queen. And now I’m wondering if she’s doing it just to make me happy.. sigh!
.. and I’ve had another brainwave.. what if we skip the rhyme. The brief says they have to talk for a minute.. not necessarily recite the rhyme. She could just say it, in her own words. Worth a shot. Yay.

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God give me patience

Is it just two weeks since I posted? It seems like an age. The kids started school and went on a bad behaviour spree so severe I’m still reeling.

First, they cried..
… all the time. They cried when they woke up, cried over their milk, cried over their once-a-week homework. Naisha cried because she didn’t have a cycle. When we got her one, she cried when I refused to let her cycle all the time (at 6.30 in the morning, 2 in the afternoon, 10 at night) and she cried when she had to share it. Hrit cried over his old cycle (“it makes me fall, the tyres have no air, the brakes aren’t working”).
They cried every single day at the end of playtime.

..then they misbehaved
Hrit tossed up his huge stuffed tiger into my cup of tea, then shattered the CFL.
They speedily demolished new toys.
They crushed chalk and mixed it with talcum powder to make ‘coloured powder’, then applied it all over themselves as well as their soft toys… I’m still discovering teddys and tigers caked with pink and purple powder.
They poured water on the bed when they wanted to clean it.

and they fought..
.. with each other and with every available kid. They called each other names, called each other’s friend’s names. They even fought for their friends. (“She pushed my friend”, “He pulled my friend’s hair”). They argued, bashed, pushed and pulled hair like a bunch of total rowdies who’d never been taught to behave.

At my wit’s end..
I tried hard, really hard, to keep them in good humour only to finally yell at them with double vigour. How I refrained myself from whacking them, I don’t know.
I forbade them to talk to each other.. which brought on a fresh deluge of tears (“He is my only brother and you aren’t letting me talk to him”.. no matter that five minutes back she was on the ground wrestling him)
I forbade them from fighting even if the other child was clobbering them.
I forbade them from taking up their friends’ cause. “Walk away when there’s a fight” I told them. Am I turning them into cowards? I don’t know and frankly I couldn’t care… better they turn into cowards than live with an insane mum.

So freaked out am I that I’ve developed an annoyance for anyone less than 20 years old. At the mall I glared at a two-year-old giving her mum a tough time and found myself muttering “ungrateful, uncooperative, ill-behaved devils”. The mother promptly collected her kid and made a quick exit.

My silver lining — The Husband
Was I grateful for his presence! He distracted the kids with impromptu quizzes. Talked them out of their sulks and took over just when I was about to crack.
Two days back after struggling to wake Naisha up for a good half hour (a precious half hour in the rushed morning schedule) I gave up. The Husband stepped in and got her brushed and dressed. The way he reads the newspaper each morning, oblivious to the mayhem, while I’m dashing around from kitchen to bedroom and bathroom, I had no clue he could actually do so well.
Each evening while the kids are playing he quietly walks up to an hour of peaceful television before we come home. But these days he stops to check on them (and on me too, I’d like to think).
He really is the silver lining of this very black cloud.

Then yesterday..
back from school, the bus deposited a yet-again sulking Naisha because Hrit had insisted on squeezing in another friend on their seat and she became ‘so sweaty’. At home, they refused to change out of their school clothes, Naisha wanted to cycle at once, then she demanded Gulcon D Nimbu Pani while I’d made the Orange. And then just as I was about to snap Hrit handed me this…

And I didn’t even know he could spell all those words leave alone string the sentence together.
I’m hoping that’s a sign from the heavens that good times are round the corner.

Thanks you guys for wondering where I was. That felt goooood.
**********

Just a precious little nugget from one of their interminable fights

Naisha’s standing at the kitchen door. Hrit pushes past her.
Naisha: Why did you push me?
Hrit: You’re standing in the way augustly I have to push you.
Naisha (screwing up her eyes scornfully): It’s not ‘augustly’ it’s ‘obviously’.. you don’t even know proper Hindi.

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Open House at school

Open House Day.. their first in this class and I was curious and a little anxious.. not about their academic performance, that doesn’t worry me yet, but I like to see that they’re bonding with their teacher. I’d hate it if they are lost in the crowd of students, if they have no connection with their teacher, if they get comments like “She/He is quiet, conscientious, hardworking.” Please… it’s just such a dull, average kind of feedback, the kind of thing a teacher says when she doesn’t really notice/know the child.
I don’t know if I’m making any sense but I hope the kids are a visible presence in their class. Of course I’m here to encourage each ability they have but school brings out different sides of children’s personalities. I need the teacher, to do her bit too.. to notice something I might have missed… to encourage them at something they’re good at.  I’d hate it if their pluses are hidden behind that ‘quiet, shy child thing’.. gosh I hope they’re never quiet… even if their teacher and I nurse permanent headaches.
Thankfully the school has a policy of 25 – 30 children in each class with two teachers… so the child is not ignored. They got fairly good feedback.
Hrit first…
While I was worried about Hrit’s ‘mirror image’ reading and writing,… he often reads and writes English like Urdu, the teacher said it was a common problem.. so one sigh of relief. Then his speech is not very clear and I’ve been toying with the idea of going to a speech therapist for the past one year.. the teacher said vis a vis the class she hadn’t noticed anything significant.. so second sigh of relief. She had issues with his eyesight.. he reads with his nose in his book and can’t see the blackboard and looks with one eye sometimes. I had already taken him for an eyetest a few days back so I hope that would be taken care of too.
Academically he’s doing wonderfully, is genuinely interested in everything academic, loves to study.. yes study.. where did he come from, I wonder sometimes.
.. then Naisha
And then there’s Naisha. She’s really not into studies but she does enough to get by. She makes an effort to do well not out of a love for learning like Hrit but because she hates to leave a bad impression and loves to be the teacher’s pet. She got a decent review thanks to her ability to talk… now that’s my daughter… well spoken, articulate, she knows what she wants.. those are the things the teacher said. In fact Naisha has always spoken well and clearly. Perhaps that is why Hrit seems like he needs help. Anyway, I’ve decided to give him some more time before I go to a specialist.
On the whole not bad at all.
The Husband at Open House 
The Husband had come along… in fact he has been coming along for the past few times. I like the way we have two completely different takes on issues. Each time we sit with their teachers my question is ‘What are their weak areas? Where can they improve?” While his question is, “What are their strong points that we can encourage further.” He does surprise me still, sometimes. I have to admit I liked the positivity of his perspective.
Finally some shopping
At each Open House Scholastic puts up a book exhibition and the kids get to shop. The Husband and Hrit have been bonding over the Solar System these days so Hrit picked a book on planets. After Sharks and Bugs this is his new passion. He knows all of them.. the smallest, the largest, the shiniest.
Naisha is always lost when it comes to choosing something for herself. She takes ages.. yes ages to pick a simple toy. She just cannot make up her mind. She looked at scores of books and in true womanly fashion, was completely blissfully oblivious to the two men getting restless by the minute. Finally she settled on a ‘Princess – Things to Make and Do’ kind of a book and we all sighed with relief.
Right brain left brain
Come evening and I sat Naisha down with her homework.. which Hrit had already completed. The Husband disappeared in the study with Hrit to read his newest buy with him. Anxious that Naisha would lose out on her share of gyan I told The Husband to read the book to her too after she’d finished with her homework. However, “No more planets, mama’, she declared with finality, “I’m going to do some drawing.” And that was that. I’m reconciling myself to a scientific, academic son and an artistic daughter.
Really, God believes in variety.. not just did he give me a boy and girl he made them as different as he possibly could.
A good day.. Saturday.
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