Category: Parenting

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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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Angels, Demons and Santa

 

Pic: Google imges

It’s Santa season. All of December I take a back seat and every threat and bribe is channeled through him. “Drink up your milk or Santa won’t get you a gift”, “Keep your specs on or Santa won’t get a gift for you”, “Too much TV and Santa won’t..”, on and on.

My ever thoughtful daughter wondered what I was getting for Christmas..
N: Mama what is santa getting for you?
Me: I don’t know. What do you think he should get?
N: (After much thought) I think I’ll ask him to get you ten nailpaints. (Point to be noted: 10 is the hugest number in her imagination and nail paints the ideal gift)
Me: But I hardly wear nail paint, what’ll I do with ten?
N: ummmm… then I think I’ll ask him to get you a pink laptop.

Indeed the ideal gift!
********

Pic: Google images

One specially bad day when I was low on patience and H was completely out of control I introduced him to the angel and demon. I told him they both lived in his head. Each time he did something naughty the devil would become stronger and each time he did something nice the angel would become stronger. Finally one of the two would take over completely depending on how he behaved.

To my surprise he took it all a bit too seriously. Now when he does something naughty all I have to do is feel his head pretending to look for horns, or his bottom to ‘check’ for a tail. And he completely freaks out. Heh heh heh… Gotcha H boy.

Ah the pleasures of motherhood.

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Boys and girls

Raising a boy and a girl together is interesting, to say the least. All these years the twins have been almost inseparable, joining in each others games even if one was a bit reluctant. Naisha’s no tomboy yet she does enjoy football and ‘bat ball’. Hrit, though reluctant, joined in celebrating Shanti’s birthday with gusto.
Now however the differences are becoming pronounced and they’re not sure how to handle the situation. Last evening when we came down to play there were a host of girls, 6 to 4 years old, playing together and they asked Naisha, just Naisha, to join in, categorically saying, “Aunty please, no boys.”
Naisha happily went off with them and I took Hrit to the swings. Fortunately he met another boy and they launched off with their beyblades. However, every five minutes or so Naisha would come running to check on Hrit and every few minutes he’d say..”Mama may I go play with the girls?” I tried to distract him because the other girls didn’t want him around. Finally the other boy also gave up the beyblade and they ran off to the girls.
When I reached there huffing and puffing I found the girls shrieking and running around with the boys following them kicking and punching in the air. “Don’t run after the girls, Hrit,” I yelled till I saw the girls were actually enjoying the whole thing. The one who’d asked me to keep Hrit away clarified, “Aunty they can play with us. We are all princesses, they can be monsters and chase us.”
With that I had to be satisfied.. at least they were all having fun together.. so what if the son was a monster?
Afterthought: I can see myself some 15 years hence telling my son, “Don’t run after the girls” while the girls will be having just as much fun as him. I do hope I accept all of that with as much equanimity as I did this time. Just as I dismissed this as part of growing up, hope I can do it then too. My sister’s sniggering, already.
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Star crossed

When we changed houses in Mumbai the kids’ took a long time adjusting. Whether it was the new house, the new school or the new friends.. the kids were just not themselves. Their misbehaviour reached the peak, or rather the nadir. At a complete loss on how to handle them the doctor-dependent me marched off to the counselor. She helped.. immensely.
At her advice I started the kids on a star-cross system, a star for good behavior a cross for bad. It worked so well that now, almost a year later the stars and crosses are still celebrated and mourned with gusto.
H remains more sensitive to the issue. Threaten him with a whack and he remains blissfully unaffected, threaten him with a BIG BLACK CROSS and he comes running. For some weird reason each time I say ‘H you’re getting a big black cross,’ his immediate reaction is ‘And N?’ It’s as if N’s getting a cross too makes the whole thing more bearable. But boy oh boy if he’s the only one being penalized I am prepared for some serious protests.
A few days back he got a cross. He pleaded with me no end to reconsider, which of course being a mean mama I didn’t. Then for the longest time he followed N around saying, “Please take a cross.. please N, please.”
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