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!
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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.

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.

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.”

Glitter n glue

Each time one enters the kids’ room it’s like launching off on an adventure. One never knows what one might find there. Yesterday I entered and found my chappals stuck to the ground.. Naisha!.. I sighed.
She’s been on the cut/paste spree for quite sometime. She cuts up just about anything she can find. Umpteen times a day she comes to me with a “Mama may I cut this?” Yes I’m grateful she remembers to ask. And I always, always give it my full attention because it can be just about anything from a fresh newspaper straight off the doorstep to the electricity bill or the doctor’s prescription.
So much for the cutting.. the sticking is worse.. She uses fevicol and roams around the house with sticky fingers… I got her a glue stick.. and things were fine till Hrit entered the picture. Like a typical disruptive brother he promptly twisted the entire thing out and trampled it to a messy sticky death. Naisha of course threw a fit and went back to the fevicol… and I stepped right into it. I was ever so glad my parents had hammered the ‘always wear your chappals habit’.
Think positive I told myself before I could get worked up… at least the mess is confined to their room. Then Naisha took to glitter. Anyone who has ever had any experience with glitter knows how stubborn it is.. It JUST DOESN’T GO. I innocently gave Naisha a go ahead for the glitter-glue combination. It’s been three days since they made their glitter paintings.
Hrit’s glitter kite..

.. and Naisha’s shiny flower
Since then it has traveled well out of their room and is all over the house and all over us too. Despite the baths and the cleaning it still shows up at unexpected places  as a sudden sparkle… on the tissue box, in Hrit’s hair, on my cheek, on my chappals, on the screen of my laptop, on my maid’s hands and of course all over Naisha.
A shining reminder of think before you allow.

In defense of NO

I was watching a programme on parenting the other day. There was this daddy who seemed quite hands on. “So you think one shouldn’t say ‘no’ too frequently to the kids?” asked the pretty compere. “I think one should completely remove the word ‘no’ from one’s dictionary,” he emphasized. “Kids learn primarily by observation. Too much supervision and saying ‘no’ all the time isn’t healthy,” said he.
No saying no? I imagined Hrit wielding his gada unchecked hammering the walls, the sofa, the bed and occasionally Naisha.. and then Naisha with her scissors and glue stick cutting up and pasting whatever she could lay her hands on…bills, clothes, books, her hair…. No no not possible I thought.
But then I have this problem of constantly evaluating myself and wondering if I’m doing the right thing with my kids. Self doubt is always waiting in the wings. Am I a very inflexible mother? I wondered. 
Well I thought I must at least give the dad’s theory a chance. Then Naisha asked if she could do water colours. It was evening, I was tired, the maid had left for the day and we just had about half an hour before I took them down to play. Besides I had promised myself half hour of writing before we went down. And so ‘No’ was my instinct. “Yes,” I said as I thought of the dad on the telly.
I laid out the newspapers, brought out the colours, paper, paintbrushes and water in the balcony. I left the two of them peacefully mixing colours. Great, I thought, it works. I got out my laptop keeping my promise with myself. As I immersed myself in my writing I was conscious of Hrit going in and out of the balcony and happy laughter. “I should have done this before,” I thought vaguely.

 After a while, done with my piece I went out in the balcony and this is what I saw.

Bliss
All the paints had been mixed together into one black muddle. Glasses of water had been poured to make a small black lake. The newspaper which was supposed to keep the paint off the floor had long since given way and lay in a soggy mess. The hands, feet, clothes hadn’t escaped the black either.
If I could have found the TV dad I would have dunked his head in the black pool. No luck, though. I let go the kids with the mandatory telling off… no losing my head.. pat on the back for that.
Then came the cleaning up. I rushed them to the bathroom and followed them wiping their tiny black footprints all the way. I told them to clean themselves while I cleared up the balcony. When I got back to the bathroom I was welcomed with another black mess – the washbasin, the soap, even the pot…
The idea of going down was given up in favour of a big tub bath. This is called having your cake and eating it too – first enjoy a mess-up and then have fun at the bath.
Bring on the foam
Learnings from the exercise:
1. Keep your Yeses close but your Nos closer.
2. Hands on dads are still just dads!
3. Everything you watch on the telly might not work for you.
4. Listen to everyone but follow your instincts.
5. Have faith in yourself. (Repeat 50 times)
While on ‘No’ I have to add that ‘No’ is certainly not all bad. All my life I’ve read books like ‘Don’t say Yes when you want to say No’. I’ve always found it extremely tough to say No even to strangers or to people who don’t really matter to me. Yes I have, though Hrit Naisha might not believe it. In contrast it comes a bit too easily to them. (Finish your milk: NO, Put down your gada: NO, Switch off the television: NO). It’s tough on me yet I hope they retain their ability to say No when they grow up, rather than turning into people pleasers.
Hrit Naisha if you’re listening.. always remember a ‘No’ clear and strong, will keep you away from a lot of harm. It rhymes too. Yay!