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On the field and then onstage

It was Sports Day…
.. and N woke up bright and early all on her own at about 5.30. “I woke up because I have to get a medal today,” she announced. That scared me a bit but The Husband cheered her along. Sports is not really her thing. I remembered last year when she’d cried and cried because she couldn’t win a medal. We’d come home and made medals for the entire bunch of kids in the society. This time round I had prepared her a bit. “Run as fast as you can” I told her “and that will be good enough”.

She did run fast.. she reached the half way mark first where they had to wear caps. And there lay her undoing for she took ages trying to put it on perfectly and missed the medal by a whisker. To her credit she gave me the sweetest, bravest, fakest smile ever as she was being led away by her teacher but dissolved into tears when we went to pick her up.

The son is another story.. he strolled in among the last few stragglers, picking up a ‘turnip’ along the way, then walked away pretty nonchalantly least bothered about the outcome. That’s the twins for you.. never the same.

There’s H walking away hands behind his back

I just wish the sports day were more interesting… I mean how many similar races can one sit through considering most parents would be waiting for just one? A drill or a march past would be a good break or maybe the races could be spiced up a bit.

In school we had real fun ones like the kids walking in their father’s shoes, or dressing themselves up for school or planting a tree.. there’s surely more to racing than running, picking up stuff and running again. Of course that’s just a thought .. the kids are small and it’s tough to to get them to do anything, I know that only too well. Maybe my memories are of later years. Must ask papa and ma what it was like.

The kids had fun for sure. The parents, however, seemed to need a lesson or two in good behaviour. It was crazy how they crowded the tracks, waved and distracted the kids, tried to talk to them and take them away early.. this despite desperate pleas by the authorities to leave the kids alone. It was most embarrassing. Talk about role models!

Then along came Annual Day
I loved the concept of the concert. A little boy roams the world in search of a hidden treasure. He meets people from various countries, learning about their cultures, dances and songs, but finds no treasure only to realise that the people of the world are the real treasure. Nice, isn’t it?

H was a in a Russian dance while N was in a full-on Punjabi Daler Mehendi number. Hrit is a reluctant dancer and being paired off with a girl only made it harder in his current I-hate-girls phase.

He refused to wear makeup covering his mouth and running around the house shouting ‘No No No”. Then he insisted if he wore makeup, N would have to wear a moustache. So much for equality.

For N of course it was a dream come true. She was getting to dance, on a stage, wear an armful of bangles, huge earrings, a long parandi and makeup too.. what more could a girl want? The makeup was fun, the only catch being she wanted to run to the dressing table after each dab….. lipstick.. run to the mirror, blusher run to the mirror, eye makeup run to the mirror,… tiring I tell you. The parandi gave me plenty of grief as I tried to fix it onto N’s tiny ponytail. Finally it was all done and I left them to play while I went to dress up.

I’d barely turned my back when I heard a yell from N. I should have guessed it.. the parandi was too much of a bait for H and obviously he’d pulled it off! With an eye on the clock I rushed to fix it again. H was so miffed at the dressing down he just refused to go. Calling upon the gods to grant me patience I sat down to reason with him pretending I had all the time in the world. Finally I convinced him to come along with us to drop N giving him the option of making up his mind along the way. Thank the Good Lord he agreed.

ALL DRESSED UP: A still grumpy H and a cheery N in our lobby

I rushed to make myself decent.. which essentially meant wiping off sweat and throwing on a pair of jeans and a shirt (Really, what would I do without those) and we were off.

Then the autowallah decided he needed petrol and the petrol pump happened to be in a diametrically opposite direction (thereby strengthening my resolve — must must learn to drive). Just as I giving the driver some solid khari khoti “I think I will go for the annual day,” announced H. To the autowallah’s total surprise I miraculously transformed into the nice lady that I’d originally seemed to be. Kids, I tell you, can twist your moods around like nobody can. So it was that we reached school in pretty good humour.

H danced well enough but with his head bent down. I love it when my naughty restless son goes all shy. I gave him a tight mental hug. N was in her element. She danced like a dream – she was the best in the group – of course from a totally biased mum’s point of view. I found myself on my feet blowing kisses.

They came away completely thrilled and excited.. even H who went so reluctantly. FIL, MIL, The Husband, kids and I … dinner at Kareem’s followed by ice cream… can a day be more perfect?

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Vivalicious

What a happening week this has been! Monday.. the in-laws came over to the complete excitement of the kids. They cleaned their room, argued with the maid when she put something in the cupboard we’d emptied out for them, did their namastes and feet-touching with enthusiasm and generally made the grandparents feel welcome in a way only kids can.

School was suspended as they had a host of fun activities lined up. First there was Viva… which is a fun carnival with contests and workshops.. art and craft, dancing and singing, fancy dress.. it’s all there. Then the kids had their Sports Day followed by the Annual Day.

I was all excited for Viva and had thought I’d have Hrit Naisha participate in as many contests as they possibly could. However, what with the in-laws being here, me not knowing how to drive a four wheeler and The Husband all grumpy about ferrying us around because it made him a half a nanosecond late for work :-@ (that’s an angry smiley, in case you didn’t know.. hey that’s an oxymoron — angry smiley).. umm where was I? Yes.. what with all of that I barely managed to get them there.

And thus my first New Year resolution is formed.. learn to drive. Coming back — they participated in something called Recreate Picasso where they had to create a painting using colours/ paints/ glitter/ dried flowers etc. They made Christmas trees and put whatever they could find on it. They seemed to have had fun going by the glitter on their sweaters :-).

While they were at the contest I had an hour and half to kill (going and coming not being an option) and I wandered off to watch other competitions. There was one called Stories Come Alive where the a kid and parent duo had to dress up like two characters of a story. It was amazing what the parents had come up with and the enthusiasm which they participated. There was a mama Peter Pan duelling a tiny Captain Hook as well as a small Peter Pan fighting a daddy Captain Hook. A diminutive Chacha Chaudhary paired off with a daddy Sabu while a small Batman punched a huge Joker daddy right in the stomach. There was a monkey with a mama cap seller, a beautiful Rapunzel with a daddy Prince (my absolute favourite!) and of course a small Jerry with a huge Tom. Oh and how can I forget — a minuscule Cinderella with a mama Fairy God mother. The small girl, scared of the crowd, ran crying to her ‘fairy god mother’ who hugged her, twirled her around, pulled off her tattered dress to reveal a princess costume, kissed her soundly then picked her up before executing a perfect ramp walk.. totally totally endearing. I actually found myself tearing up.

Now a confession.. I felt awful for not letting Naisha having a go at this one. This was so her scene. She would have enjoyed it any day more than the painting..I know. How she loves the arclights! Sad that she has a mama who’s a bad case of stage fright. I actually considered the possibility but I dismissed it telling myself ‘no conveyance’. I should have gone for Naisha.. I could have done it with her and maybe gotten over my fear too and learnt to have fun. But I let it go…

And so another resolution… I’ll not let an opportunity like this one go by next time round.

Signing off now… will keep the Sports Day and Annual Day saga for tomorrow.. a saga it is … every small event is a big story with the kids around.

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That’s the way I like it

Isn’t it strange how we get used to things? When I first started my post-dinner walks in this new city I used to miss the vibrancy of Mumbai nights. In Mumbai our society had plenty of ‘late-nighters’. When I would come down at ten there would be scores of families complete with kids, out for a walk or to get some ice cream or to catch a late night coffee. I loved the happy shouts of the kids, the dads playing with them, the moms looking on relaxed.

Here our society is full of ex-army men, mostly senior citizens. By 9 the gardens are almost empty.. by 9.30 everyone’s gone. I freaked out a bit when I started my walks with just the guards looking on.

Apparently I got used to it. I didn’t realise when I stopped worrying about being alone, when I started revelling in the peace and quiet, when I started tapping my fingers and nodding away to the tune in my headphones, when I started lip-syncing the songs silently (not discounting the probability of singing aloud too). With just the guards looking on morosely, I came to think of it as my personal walking area (presumptuous, I know).

Then the other night I saw a family walking towards me and I was taken aback. I stopped short mid song and wondered what they were doing down so late. Of course they were just taking a walk like me. Yet, I disliked the ‘intrusion’. I disliked the kid’s shout and wondered why he wasn’t in bed on a weeknight (I know that’s weird but that’s what I did think). I stopped my happy lip syncing and walked in a self conscious silence waiting to cross them at each round.

Since that day the family’s been down occasionally and I’m getting used to their presence. It’s funny .. this getting used to business. Funny how we get used to situations, people and places… at the gym I have a favourite treadmill, a favourite cross trainer, a favourite locker, a favourite place where I stand for my aerobics. And strangely enough I find I have the same people around me during the sessions… so apparently others too have these preferences.

Strange na how we get used to things for no apparent reason.. We have fixed places at the dining table, fixed sides of the bed, the kids have preferred places in their school bus too… Strange, isn’t it.. these inexplicable preferences?

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I hate girls

.. that’s what H has been saying over and over and over again.

It started over a year back when he refused to talk to my mum, asking instead only for ‘nanu’ because apparently he didn’t like talking to girls. It’s just a phase, I told myself.

The other day I met a friend of mine walking her dog. “Is it a girl dog or a boy dog,” he wanted to know. “Girl dog,” said my friend. “I don’t like girls,” said he and thereafter refused to pet that friendly pom no matter how much she wagged her tail. Oh well he’s not into dogs, thought I.

Then he refused to go to dance class. “Too many girls,”said he. He’s not the dancing type (just like me) I thought as I pulled him out of the class.

Then he didn’t want to participate in the annual day because… “Teacher has given me a girl partner. I don’t like to dance with girls. I want a boy partner,” he complained. With about a week to go for the function his complaints have only increased. “Silly stupid girls,” mumbled he as he got off the bus today. “What happened?” queried I. “My dance partner, mama… I told you – she’s a girl na. I don’t like her.” Not again, I sighed. Thinking I should sort this out once and for all I asked him.. “Lazy girl.. sleeping all the time. I get shouted at because of her.” I’m sure at least some of that is not true.

Just as I was re-telling myself he’d outgrow this ‘phase’ soon enough, came the final straw.
Over dinner a few days back says he..
I am going to marry a boy.
Me (trying to play it cool): Why?
H: I like only boys. We’ll have so much fun. We can play all the time.
N (adding her bit as she licks the ketchup off her parantha): I know who I’m going to marry.
Me (Ready now for almost anything): Who is it?
N: V (He’s a dear friend’s son, and that’s a story I’ll keep for another day).
Me: Speechless!
Then two days later H says.. “Mama may I marry Y, please.”.. that’s his best pal.

So well both my kids are ‘settled’ now. Only Y is shifting next session and I’ve to prepare H for his very first heartbreak. Wish me luck guys.

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