Category: Parenting

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The pilot and the airhostess and some news

Last Monday the kids had to dress up yet again.. this time as a pilot and an air hostess. And I found out on Friday. I didn’t freak out, which is so unlike me J. (This doesn’t mean I didn’t crib just that I didn’t go crazy with worry)
I thought I’d simply rent the dresses but..
.. they weren’t available. We found just one pilot uniform which was quite tattered. And listen to this.. the rental was Rs 300, deposit Rs 600 plus we had to furnish proof of residence. Gosh.. are we opening a bank account or what???
so I decided to do it on my own.
It turned out to be great fun. It took me three hours at MG Road scouting for white shirts and pants, a red skirt, red shoes, tie, sash and the very complicated cap and shoulder decorations.  I found it all and enjoyed every bit of it.
Had it not been for the kids I’d never have strayed from the broad boulevard of MG Road. As a relative novice to Pune I’d never given the by lanes a thought. But it’s the by lanes that hold the greatest of treasures. I was almost done with the costumes except or Hrit’s pilot cap and the epaulettes, both of which I thought I’d have to make.
However my BIL, a passionate Puneri, came to my rescue. Tucked away between scores of canvas shoes and photo frame shops in Kolsa Gulli off MG Road is this shop that manufactures police and army uniforms. As I was struggling to describe what exactly I wanted the guy behind the counter said, “Shall I give you what I gave the others?” I sighed in relief.. three cheers to proactive mums who make life for late-latif’s like me easy. And so I came home with not just the pilot cap but the eagle insignia, the epaulettes and a host of other pilot decorations.
Here’s how they turned out….
Naisha decided the pose.. so all credit is hers
The salute
.. and she has to do it too
…then they forget to be pilots and airhostesses
I wish I had more time to scout the smaller shops behind MG Road. However I’m short on time because the restless soul that The Husband is, we might be moving again after just a year in Pune. Yes people that’s my news. This time it’s going to be a BIG move… tentatively down South. That’s as much as I’m allowed to give away now. Within a week things will be clearer and the school/house hunt shall begin followed by the maid/cook hunt. Sigh!
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Yellow is the colour of the day

.. and we’re celebrating because today the kids became yellow belts in Taekwondo. Never had I thought this was going to happen. I had been keen on some kind of guided physical activity for the kids since they’d be five soon. The Taekwondo class was conveniently across the road but the kids refused to go. “Let’s just go and look”, I insisted. We went. We watched. We came back. The kids refused to go.
Now I may not be a Chinese mom , but an Indian mom I sure am. So after a week we went again. We watched. We came back. Nope said the kids.
One more try and I’ll give up, I told myself. I let another week go by and we were back. Lo and behold.. the kids agreed. After the first class Naisha’s reaction quite thrilled me, “Mama it wasn’t a class at all. We just played.” Since then they’ve gone happily every day. Check out those moves.

Now, a few months later, they have their yellow belts. Naisha came out after her exam showing off her belt and saying, “Sir said we’ll get our cerfiticate tomorrow.” Cheers. No matter it’s just their first one.. I am celebrating.
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Mauled

Some days are just not meant to be. The thing to do on those days is to sit it out at home. My problem is that I never figure it out till it’s too late.

I needed to get summer clothes for the kids and decided to head for the mall on Sunday what with all those tempting sales and offers. The Husband was supposed to do the baby-sitting. He, however, declared he had to go to work. No problem thought I, I’ll take the kids along. Like a super efficient mom I dressed them up a full hour in advance of the time decided upon. We were going with the SIL and my niece. By the time she arrived the kids were deep in the antics of Hanuman and greatly resented giving up the telly. The little one set up the mother of all tantrums. Never mind thought I, she’ll be fine by the time we are through lunch. She howled her way through one full hour of lunch making sure her protest was well and truly registered. However, she recovered after that and we reached the mall in averagely decent shape. Even as I was giving myself a pat on the back God in heaven was having a good laugh at what he had in store for me.

Catch n Cook
As I got on with the task at hand the kids busied themselves playing hide and seek, then catch and cook among the clothes’ rails. I ignored them determinedly vowing not to worry till one of them was in actual danger of being upturned – the rails or/and the kids. (That’s called mommy nirvana).

Spin it on
I HAD to take note however when I found the two of them spinning a rotatable accessory showcase. By the time I reached the scene of action the showcase was spinning at an unbelievable speed and before I could stop it clips, bracelets and hair bands came flying off the stands. The next few minutes were spent in gathering up the merchandise, apologising profusely and telling off the kids.

I spy
In the middle of the chaos… ‘Bathroom’ announced the son and we made a beeline for the washrooms. After the kids were done I went in to do my business. I had barely shut the door when I heard H saying ‘Mama I can see your shoes’. I jumped off and walked out in a hurry to see him sprawled on the floor, yes on the washroom floor, trying to look under the door. We washed, cleaned rushed out.

Try it on
I collected my scattered wits to try to focus on the clothes and in a flash the kids had disappeared. I recovered them from the women’s lingerie section trying out the ‘clothes’. They had picked two pieces off the rails and were placing them on the relevant parts of their anatomies while preening in the mirror. It was kind of weird considering the son shall never qualify to wear those garments and the daughter has many many years to go before she does. I found myself putting back the merchandise, apologising profusely and telling off the kids once more.

Caught
I rushed them off to the changing rooms where my SIL had been calling me for eons for a second opinion. As I checked out her buys I heard the son’s distressed call of help while the daughter shouted, “mama look at bhai”. There he was sprawled on the floor yet again with one leg inside the changing room occupied by a young lady. For once he had bitten off more than he could chew. He had put his leg under the door into the changing room to see ‘how far in it could go’. The young lady inside believed in giving as good as she got. So she caught hold of his foot and refused to let go. She walked out after a while, a big grin on her face. I readied for the apologising-telling off routine but, “That was fun,’ she said, ‘I’ve been on the other side when I was their age.” And walked off with a wave. Oh I wanted to high-five her.

Sing along
One would have thought this was enough of a shocker to keep the duo quiet for some time. However within five minutes I found them facing the mirrors outside the changing rooms singing and gyrating in the most amateurish fashion. The songs – for the daughter “My name is Sheela” and the Son went with “My name is Singh is King”.

Oh and I have left out minor irritants like the time they wrestled with the huge soft toys, the time they hung from changing room handles so people inside couldn’t open them, or when they wanted to take off Santa’s cap in the display counter to check if he had hair.

All this in a space of two hours. God keep the patience coming.

PS:

1.      This post is an explanation, explanation NOT apology, for my Harridon-like behaviour when I got home and found The Husband at his laptop refusing to help out with the housework.
2.      In their defence I have to add that the kids do not provide so much entertainment always. It is only on some days that they are so much in their element.
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Spade is a spade

You know what’s really scary? When The Husband takes it upon himself to impart gyan to the kids. It’s just not his area really. Believe me I’ve thought of all the scenarios before I say this. Of course there will be times when the Son will need his man-to-mans or when he and the Daughter will need to talk to The Husband after their run-ins with me. Yes I know all that is certainly on the cards and I hope those times don’t come anytime soon.
Pic courtesy Google Images
In my defence….
The other day we were out with friends and we walked into Landmark. ‘Just one gift each’ I announced before the kids went berserk. They complied with amazing alacrity. Hrit picked a car and Naisha got herself a pink Teddy (stereotypes, stereotypes). On the way back Hrit commented, “Mama we are very poor, aren’t we?” Poor? “Well no,” said I, “Poor people don’t go to Landmark and pick out gifts randomly.”
“We are very poor,” he maintained. “Papa said so. We don’t buy expensive things and don’t even have a car. We are poor.” Now we do avoid getting expensive toys for the kids and are also ‘carless’ for the moment so I had nothing to say that. “Main sas (sach) bol raha hoon,” he persisted when he overheard me talking about it. The Husband of course confessed to having done the convincing to get him off his back when he was being pestered with one of Hrit’s innumerable demands. So now my son is growing up with skewed perceptions of poverty quite the French Queen Marie Antoinette.
Then there was the time I found Hrit almost in tears because The Husband had told him “We are all going to grow old and die one day.” He followed me around asking me when that ‘day’ would be and whether we’d all die together or one by one and how he’d manage when both the Husband and I would die… *sigh* When I confronted The Husband all he said was, “Well we ARE going to die one day”.
You get the picture?
So that was when I forbade him from talking to the kids about the facts of life just yet. The tactless soul is safest when he sticks to the Sharks and Dolphins. When the kids grow up (and I type this with fingers crossed) they will learn to take his a-spade-is-a-spade conversations in their stride and maybe even appreciate his candor. For now they just have to make do with me.
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This one’s for India

 

Dear H and N,

We were early at the bus stop today and I was struggling to while away time with the two of you as you ran around bubbling with your early morning energy. Then along came Tanu with his Dadu. He takes his bus from the same stop as you and over time has turned into a friend. He joined in the ruckus till his Dadu suggested, “Let’s sing songs while we wait for the bus”.
Tanu went first and he sang ‘I salute the flag’ then launched into ‘Chhodo kal ki baatein’. “I am preparing for tomorrow’s Republic Day function,” he explained. As his Dadu took all your little hands in his large ones and explained to each of you the right way to salute I looked on filled with guilt and regret.
Yes, tomorrow is Republic Day. However, you think it’s just another holiday. I am so sorry darlings I forgot to tell you that tomorrow is no ordinary holiday. I could of course blame it on the relief of not having to wake up early to a super chaotic morning or the excitement of having Daddy home all day (he’s been working the last two weekends and we’ve barely glimpsed him all this while). But I won’t. I will make a promise, however, of telling you about the wonderful country you were fortunate to be born in…
— a country where you can light fireworks at Diwali, tuck into seviyans on Eid and and get gifts for Christmas – a triple whammy
— a country where you, Zaheen, Jennifer and Gunraj can share tiffins at school without a thought
— a country where mama can wear what she wants, go where she wants.
— a country where you can say exactly what you want because everyone, yes everyone, is allowed to have their say
— a country that that gives both of you equal freedom and equal rights
And when you grow up ours is a country that gives you the power to make it what you want. That’s a huge power and a huge responsibility. Use it well when you have it.
Tomorrow is special. It is our country’s real birthday and we shall celebrate it in style.
Meanwhile listen to this, our National Anthem. I get goose bumps and misty eyes when I hear it. I hope in time you too will learn to look beyond it’s melody and will stand up in pride and love to salute your country just like Tanu’s Dadu taught you.
Love
Mama

 

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