Wagging Away

Clever little pigs

2010-08-29T12:11:00.001-07:00

This is a rather random post after about a year of inactivity...but I thought a 6-yr-old's take on an old fable was fabulous!!! Here goes:

One day three little pigs were having tea. Suddenly they heard a knock on the door. The door was translucent (! clearly random thoughts run in the family!) but people could see through the door. The tallest pig cold see through the door. So he looked through thte door and saw something brown. What could it be? It was the big bad wolf! So they locked the door and got on having tea, The wolf blew the house down. The three little pigs were screaming and ran away so the wolf didn't get any dinner anyway that day!

I am thankful!

2009-01-18T23:37:00.000-08:00

Today a friend sent me something quite precious and thought-provoking. In a time, she said, when all around her was bad news, she wanted to stop and reflect. On things that gave her joy, made her rediscover herself and those around her, love this one life we are given. A beautiful thought that she was kind enough to share...It is an example I am going to borrow...to count my blessings and be happy! So to celebrate 2008:
1) I am glad for a year that allowed us to restart our lives in a brand new land and swept the wind of change through our lives.
2) I am grateful for a year that allowed me to slow down, suck some air and look around me with a new pair of eyes.
3) I am glad to have had a year that allowed me to be daughter and sister for a while after a very, very long time. My parents and brother have been such an essential part of my life, I have taken them too much for granted from afar. 2008 let me do that for a while being close to them!
4) I am thankful for a year that allowed me stop and watch my second daughter grow up, infant to crawling to the rampantly hurtling toddler that she now is. Constantly my companion through the day, her unquestioning, demanding love have made the time fleeting. She now is a jumping, singing, dancing toddler whose penchant for dispensing kisses and hugs and smiles light up everybody's day!
5) I am proud for a year that saw my older daughter show the spirit and courage that tell me she will only make me prouder as she gets older. Traversing three cultures within a year and taking what she saw, heard, understood, she has emerged stronger sometimes, confused sometimes...but she has survived. And she has tales to tell. From leaving behind the only life and home she ever knew in California to stay with grandparents in a single room...from being in a US day care to going to a small temporary play school where she learned to say "tarban" like a pucca kannadiga...from all that, once she had found friends, leaving them behind one summer day to go to a country where she knew not the language nor any people...to a fancy British school and once again trying to find her friends and trying to fit in! I am proud of my little fighter!
6) I am grateful for having the opportunity to create new things and explore new opportunities. Taking time off from what had been a hectic ten years of working single-mindedly, has allowed me to look at other things in the world that interest me and refresh my life.
7) I am delighted with a year that allowed me to seriously catch up with old friends and make new ones who I hope will last. Life throws so many curveballs and being able to reconnect with a childhood classmate(s) has been one of the most refreshing things to have happened to me this past year. We share a link to the past and see ourselves as we have become with understanding, pride and comradeship!
8) I am in love with the year that gave me my tenth wedding anniversary. We have spent most of the year on different continents and have gone throough some very rough patches. But we are still together and that's what counts in the end.
9) I am grateful for a year that has opened many doors for us while not shutting any.
10) Finally, I am happy for a year, that brings one more...full of hope and possibility. The expectancy of something good and beautiful. From world events to our small microcosmic homes. For a year that has kept families together and given us the courgae to go on. For a year that was a roller coaster ride, with ups and downs. For a year that said: Hold on to your hats, Change is coming.

Suck it up!

2009-01-08T12:56:00.000-08:00

So, the family moved en masse to the land of fresh white snow, yodelling and clean freaks called Switzerland and it's our first winter here. And because the silly country works and functions and teaches in a language useless west of its border, we had to enroll D-Poo in one of those fancy, private, "international" schools. And yes, it is overpriced. With that out of the way, I have to admit it's been a really good school thus far. Yes, I do have to deal with too many rich people living in respective expat bubbles, but on the whole the teachers are nice, kids seem less than psychotic all of the time and the teachers don't look like they would rather be a hundred miles away. All good signs.

And then the benefits of a fancy private education (welllll...actually even the free public school education here in Switzerland) is the nice set of extracurricular activities she gets exposed to. D-Poo will be the first in the family on any side to learn ice skating and then her recent adventure: skiing! No not the black runs down mount Eiger or whatever but just beginning...learning that carrying skis around looks way more fun than it actually is!

The program for the skiing sounded rather gruelling actually, for a five-year-old: Pick-up in the morning , off to the slopes by 9, and then return back only in the evening. How was she going to last through it all? Actually how were any of those little ones going to make it?

And then I realized, most of the mothers from my daughter's class were planning to drive up to the ski resort on their own and spend the next 6 hours in bone-chilling cold just to see their little ones walk knock-kneed with their skis (I'm of course being blase because I knew I couldn't go! :) ). "Oh, I don't think the poor dear can last. I'll definitely be going and bring her back early maybe," muttered one mom. Of course, there I was standing, paralyzed with guilt because it hadn't even crossed my mind that may be I needed to rescue her in any way. Forget about driving up a mountain on my own with K-Poo tagging along and having not one but two cranky kids on the way down! And so, I walked up to the teacher in charge, hoping and praying she would tell me she would look after my poor little tender flower. Be her strength for her and not ask me to come there at some impossible time to pick her up early from the slopes, if you please!

And then from her lips came words I could never have hoped to hear from a teacher: "well," she started..."you know, she's just going to have to suck it up!" Music to my ears and violins in heaven! A teacher who was secure in her knowledge of herself and her pupils enough not to mince words...suck it up! Those words didn't say "I don't care" to me..they said "I care and know enough that if your daughter is left alone she'll figure it out." And after all isn't that part of what we want them to learn when they are in school? I left that school yard reassured my child was in good hands... worth every rappen of what I spend as fees. And for all of those who feel the urgent need to protect your child from every little thing that happens to them remember the mantra and let them just: Suck it up!!!

Madness twice over

2009-01-06T15:07:00.000-08:00

When I was pregnant the second time, people would nod knowingly and say "you know, no two kids are ever the same." Bollocks was my thought, oh really was my spoken comment! I mean come on...once you've handled the whole peeing, pooping, privacy-invading, peace-destroying experience of having a child, what can be different the second time? Turns out the nattering masses were right after all. I have spent the last two days with my second daughter with ample time to reflect upon the fact that god was laughing his gob off watching me drown.
The whole experience the second time round is cool... until the baby is born of course. Body used to stuff and baby is all fine. And the sibling is over the moon at having "a friend to play with." Until of course, said older sibling is told, please don't pinch the baby, don't get into the baby crib while the baby is still inside, no you cannot help change a poopy splattery diaper and spread the mess around, no noise please because the baby is sleeping, etc etc ad infinitum. All of which you did with the older one too except there were no tender feelings that got bruised! So now add one annoyed, jealous, retrogressive sibling into the mix and my horror story gets worse!
Fast forward a year and the "baby" is a monkeying toddler who bears no resemblance to the older one. I have now had my first experience with child-proofing the house. I do not even bat an eyelid when K-Poo falls off the table...no broken bones, no teeth falling out, we're good (how she got on the table is a whole different story!)! And have had one toy destroyed by being thrown into the bathtub (when it was full of soapy water and a 5-year-old), four things including my gloves thrown down the toilet (we never leave the door open, ever!), every bottle of cream emptied twice over (never buy anything that's not discounted!), and etc etc etc as the King of Siam might say!
And I behave like a first time parent ... because every single thing is NEW, dash it! I get worked up, I dash about trying to prevent things... only to see she's done a Panzer move on me and attacked an unthought of avenue for disaster. And she has the energy of ten of those stupid drumming bunnies! D-Poo never did any of the above, stayed in one place when we asked her to and generally keeps getting more and more angelic in our memories! Basically, I am finding out that second time over feels like 10 monsters have joined the house instead of one tiny little body!
So the next time, the busybody telling a second-time mom "it'll be so different with this one" will be ME!

I will not compare!

2008-12-24T13:53:00.000-08:00

I have always been decidedly average. Above average in my doting parents' eyes... but average to the rest of the world. Which basically means I didn't fail any classes, kept my head above water and responded when my name was called. What it also meant was that I was always compared to my rather smarter sibling, supposedly smarter cousins and other random people as they showed up in my life by well (or not!) meaning friends and relatives. And now I have two of my own to nourish and nurture and make sure their fledgling emotions don't take the beating mine did while growing up. I therefore promise I will not:
1) Point out that one eats just five-times better than the other. For after all what does it matter? Maybe a few years of my life can be saved from being whiled away at a dinner table saying, "Eat!" in various threatening tones. Only to be met with boredom, smarminess or both. No! I will not compare...just be grateful for the one that DOES eat!
2) I will not wish that both would sleep the entire night through just so I can get my precious 8 hours. Be like her sister? No she need not!
3)I will resist the impulse to list the activities my child is great at...even if it is to myself! She could do Tchaikovsky without lessons you know...both piano and ballet!
4) I will resist the impulse to claim my daughters did quadratic equations at the age of 6 months and were attending school before they could say peekaboo!
5) I will try not to insist they learn Bharatanatyam just because I did...especially if they stink at it! Comparing myself to them? tch tch!
6) I will try not to look too closely at the brushwork and strokes of the painting prizewinner who was not my daughter! Of course I am still allowed to think the mother has connections!
7) I will resist the impulse to dress my daughters in identical clothes only to have random people comment how one colour suits one but not the other! Very damaging to little psyches!
8) I will not let people tell them it's not "cute" for girls to plays with trains, planes and automobiles.
9) I will not secretly wish they were "gifted" or were a secret genius. Above average is just fine by me.
10) I will never ever let them think they have let me down...not when they say "homeworks," not when they refuse say more than "bu" till 18 months and not when they don't know how to count properly without losing themselves or if they don't know ABC perfectly at the right age or if their cursive is nothing to speak of ...for like a certain dear person pointed out quite reasonably..have you ever met an adult who doesn't know their ABC? Or one whose handwriting matches the trace-over books?

Baa..baa..bananas!

2008-12-12T13:55:00.000-08:00

Like I said, the wag is back to her original blog...riffing (sorta) on life with kids...
So, those who know me will know how I hate that most phallic of symbols ...the banana!!! Not just the way it looks (though that grosses me out anyways), not its colour not its texture...its smell. The blasted stuff can't ripen without one wanting to run away ...and God forbid if you leave the skin lying around!!! Sheesh! I have famously asked a roommate to please ripen her store of bananas in another friend's room (who if she's still reading this blog will instantly recognize herself!!) because goddamnit I will tolerate a lot of stuff and clean our room but I will not have that stuff around...luckily for me my roommate and the aforementioned friend were both sweet people who agreed to my rather mean request!! And I will not touch fruit salad...brown pieces of sticky banana!!
Why this rant you ask? And what does it have to do with either Poo? Well, both girls love the stuff...big, yellow, smelly...bring it on they say. With #1 I had to swallow a bitter pill and actually feed her the stuff... mushy that too...luckily day care soon took over and I was relieved of that task at least!
But with K-poo, hausfrau that I am now, I am forced to "offer" it to her. And K-poo is an eater. Thank god, for most days and ways, but the problem is she wants to hold the whole fruit in all its gorgeous squashiness!! And the end result of that of course is a putrid mass of squishy banana goo that I have to not look at for fear of retching all over a one-yr-old and scarring her for life! I stick it out bravely and continue to smile encouragingly as I peel the thing and feed her bit by excruciating bit.
And today, I have officially given up. I shall not care if my younger daughter partially masticates her fruit, spits it out, examines the mess between her fingers, gives it a good squeeze for luck and then lovingly offers it to her mother. I will not care if I have to peel the fruit only to be dismissed and have to save the peeled fruit ON my microwave until "later." I will not mind if my bin and the kitchen smell of rotting banana peel. I will not recoil if I find a piece of dried banana paste on my T-shirt. I will still kiss the cheek of the daughter as she offers it up with a bit of the stuff all over her chin. For I love them, do I not?
Besides, I see succour and support coming my way!! D-Poo the other day threw an enraged tantrum. "You're a mean thing, mommy. You're making me carry my own stinky disgusting banana peel! I don't want to have to touch it!" Music to my ears!!! Of course, SHE got punished!!

Life with two ain't no joke

2008-12-11T03:24:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I wrote as a mom and as the wag since I've been a trifle busy with amma's tales. But life with two kids is finally taking its toll and the need to vent has manifested itself again. Maybe that way, the overwhelming urge to give away children will work itself out of my system. Now don't get me wrong, they're both adorable but life with two is crazy compared to one and followers of the blog will know of my incapacity to deal with one!!!
An update: The wag now has two kids having succumbed to the temptation of "cuch a chweet baby" despite her posts about D-Poo being a warning, flashing, blaring siren!! And so I am now the proud, slightly desperate owner of two cuddly pink girls...the second who shall go by the moniker ...hmmmm...for simplicity, let's say K-Poo. The Wag is also now "between jobs (a euphemism for unemployed)" and has moved to the blessed land called Switzerland!!
In these terrifically changed circumstances the Wag shall hope to post and post away...so keep watching this space...

Wal-mart mentality...

2008-11-20T07:55:00.000-08:00

I was reading an article in the NYtimes (yes...despite my conservative attitudes, I am a liberal at heart) and this article caught my attention

Basically the idea is that when you're supposed to economize you o to "budget" stores and end up spending way more than you planned while saving that 3c/can of chick peas...because you bought 7 cans of them when you needed just one. And then the 5 bags of chips and the 13 cases of washing liquid and 5kgs of tomatoes (which are rotten at the end of 1kg/two weeks) ad nauseam...literally. So what happens is all these penny pinchers are truly pound foolish resulting in a system of people who think ooking at th price of cauliflower in a shop is actually a good thing. Unless the price difference is like 100X it's truly not worth it. Europe, especially Switzerland, is liberating!! Everything is expensive and so when you have the chance don't buy it. And when you buy it you cna only afford a little and are loth to waste any. So all in all, less mess, smaller bill (or the same except you'll use all that you bought) and you feel good about living richly! Go Europe!!

Yeah right!!

2008-09-05T01:25:00.000-07:00

All I wanted to say about my previous post is in the title of this one....

The problem with satisfaction....

2008-08-26T13:33:00.000-07:00

...is not really anything in particular a satisfied person would notice or even really complain about..after all what could be bad about being satisfied.
Living in a "satisfied country" I have this to say of that state of being:
1) It induces complacence. You are satisfied so you are immune. You are satisfied so you don't need anyone else.
2) It induces dullness. Where there is no need for anything why would you need anything different? Everything has always worked the way it is so why change? So everything is fixed to be the way it always was. The end result: dullness.
3) It kills dynamism, ambition and creativity. For where is the need for change. #2 induces number three. Where there is chaos and flux arises great creativity, and life changing moments. Dullness leads to more dullness.
4) It kills curiosity. When you're completely satisfied there is no need to look outwards. For what can it hold for you. So you look within and lose out on the beauty and variety that is outside.
5) The flip side to the story of course is you're satisfied so 1-4 don't ever even strike you as possibilities of your state of being. As long as you're not dissatisfied in a satisfied world!
Here's to staying satisfied!!!

novella time

2008-08-23T14:34:00.000-07:00

Well,
being and out of work hausfrau I have decided to finally try and write my elusive book...the one I think I can easily shoot off while reading another's pathetic attempt at prose...the novel I think I could easily have written just like JK rowling did...easy isn't it...? just a plot, write a few paras a day and voila my masterpiece is ready to break publishing records...and so we shall see...I will write and I will publish chapters for reading and reviewing and people can tell me what they think of what I have written and if I have a book at the end of it... this experience will be my blog...

Shame. Love. Joy.

2008-08-16T05:32:00.000-07:00

I was full of anticipation. It had been a long wait for 5 months but I knew the ultrasound would show me what I wanted to see...a sweet little baby boy..a little brother for my daughter to complete the family picture I had held so dear for nearly all my life...I even had a name picked out...this was my baby...and it felt so right...the way I felt, my dietary tastes, the way I was carrying...everything!!!
So here I was at the doc's watching pictures of my unborn baby...nodding absently as she pointed out fingers, toes, brain, heart, lungs...all normal thankfully..but was it a boy or girl? I asked. And she said something I had never imagined in my wildest dreams...it's a girl, she said. 99 percent sure, she said. My world came crumbling down.
I walked out that door as if in a daze...it couldn't be true, I thought. No way I could have two daughters...how can I split my love for my oldest one? She was the planned one...the princess we would be so proud to have. This was supposed to be a boy, to provide a foil for her. So she could learn to play games and not be a sissy. So that she could find out pink was not the only colour in the world. How could this have happened? And now I would have a girl forever doomed to be second best. Younger sisters never did as well as older ones I had decided. Forever compared, forever found wanting. What was the use?...Shame, shame, shame.
I flatter myself as being independent, liberated and liberal.In that moment of truth I discovered who I was and I was ashamed. But I could not shake off the feeling of being robbed, betrayed, cheated. For one fleeting moment I thought of not having the baby at all. Maybe I could reset things I reasoned to myself, hating myself the whole time. But I could not face wanton foeticide. Family tried to calm me... you will love her they said...just wait and see...
Wait and see...I didn't want to wait and I didn't want to see...I wanted to have nothing to do with this child who had robbed me of my perfect family... I hated it and I hated myself for hating it. Shame, shame, shame.
The months passed. I had devised a way in which I could deal with the situation. Ultrasounds could be wrong I had reasoned. The technician could have been wrong. These things happen all the time. So I lied and clung to a faint chance as a lifeline to sanity. I didn't tell anyone I was having a girl. I don't know, I said. They couldn't see, I said. Denying the existence of my baby to myself, to others. Shame, shame, shame.
And then the day arrived. I went to the hospital and went through all the motions. There was no joy in me. No anticipation. Just a need to be done with the whole thing. What was there to expect anyways? And then you were born.
A little pink bundle, squawling with gusto. Feed her right away, mommy, they said and I took you gingerly. My previous experience with feeding babies hadn't gone too well...but you didn't seem to care...nuzzling hungrily, and settling almost immediately. I watched and felt your soft skin, the funny ears, the bald patches behind your little head. And against all odds, I felt an overwhelming love... a need to protect and a need to love. And you loved me too. I was sure of it. Unquestioningly, totally and you demanded no less in return. I held you close to me for a long time that night. You were my love.
And so I have watched you grow. My little one who smiles in glee when she sees me. Who plays the sweetest games as though created especially for me and you. A smile to chase away my tears and a smile to chase away yours. We are bound by the thread of your laughter, by the joy of a hug in night. I am your mother and you will forever be my child. I started this journey thinking you would rob your sister of my pride in her. I now know that is not true. She is still my pride. You are my joy.

Swat

2008-07-11T14:24:00.000-07:00

My life was good....get some food, hang about a bit, get some more food and the day's done. Sure there were a few work related hassles like the occasional fly swatter or so that landed on target, but all in all, it was a good life.
My home was a small patch of manure near a group of apartments. A lot of people turn up their noses at the smell maybe, but for me nothing quite says home like a whiff of cow poop!!! Mom,pop, and my brothers three...we were family. Noisy, whirring,flying all the time...but life was fun.
I liked my circle of friends too...we'd just graduated to flying by ourselves and I was quite the guy ..even if I do say so myself. We hung about where people could see us just to get them thinking they'd got us at last and then just before the swatter could land we'd take off whizzing past their ears for the fun of it. Everything was a competition...who could whiz into the grumpy man's trash can and right back out before he could shut us in..who could take a leak in the little brat's milk before he drank it (that was always funny..the mom screaming as though the kid would die cos we'd dipped our feet in the milk...welllll...maybe ...but still too much of a reaction). Like I said, life was good. Uncomplicated. Then she happened.
She was just a girl-fly...the same in everyone's eyes..black, wings, antennae...you get the picture. But to me she was all eyes. Her eyes...aww. Big and cute. Not that I fell for those things you know... I had enough women chasing ME. But this gal was different. I'd known her all my life of course. Everybody knew everyone in the heap. Well the long and short of it was, I fell in love. And she never once looked at me. She was way too cool...faster than me and more of a daredevil if that was possible. We were soulmates except she didn't know it. So I had the family make the introductions, carried her food to the heap for a couple of days, tried to smell really good (smell's important for flies you know) and then I asked her out. The surprise was that she accepted at all. AND she had a really good time.
That's when I got involved... I should've left it as a really nice girlfriend and not planned a life with her you know.. us, three kids, a small part of the heap to call home...perfect. And she agreed, of course. I told you we were soul mates. I let myself get INVOLVED!!! So we planned a little wedding...just us and the family. It was a gorgeous day and we did the little fly mating dance the traditional way, waggled our bottoms at the guests and took off for our flight together. That's when she had a harebrained idea...hey let's go to the brat's house (the one whose milk we used to dip our toes in remember?) and make out in the kitchen...that should freak the woman out and it'll be cool...and I agreed!!! Idiot, idiot, idiot.
And so off we flew, hand in hand to the kitchen...it was fun I'll admit, making out midair in that sparkly kitchen.That's when I noticed something was wrong..the woman was just too quiet!!! Let's get out of here I said...oh not to worry! now keep doing what you were just doing she said...
SWAT!!! We both landed on the floor..I had bruised my legs and was hobbling but I managed to jump out of the way of the second thwack that came fast and the third and the fourth...that's when I realized, she wasn't thwacking ME, she was thwacking HER!!!! My poor darling tried her best to hold on but there was just no chance...
The woman stopped...I realized she was looking at me on the floor but I didn't care...my love was dead! I hobbled over to touch her one last time...but there was no swatter coming after me...the woman was watching me...sorry for an act of love that she had destroyed...I touched my darling and then hopped away...the woman flicked me aside and picked up my sweetheart and threw her into the kitchen rubbish. My heart felt some peace. At least she had died and gone to heaven...

The Bus Driver

2008-03-03T01:21:00.000-08:00

The faces came closer, each one blending into the next. Ramu felt a deep haze settle over his mind when the first blow came.
Things had started normally enough that day. In his small house the same sounds had woken him to the new day: the carts selling their wares, the nearby temple mingling its tolling bells with the call of the muezzin from the mosque. He heard the toilet next door flush just as his clock told him it was 6.30am. Late, late, late!!! His throbbing head, the only evidence of last night’s indulgence with his friends at the local adda. He should be grateful, he supposed. Small bribes and hitting his wife for dowry had at least paid for a separate toilet of his own. Otherwise he would have had to wait in line like all the others at the end of roadway for their turn at the smelly pot and a small tap with a weak trickle of water. He stumbled to the bathroom almost stepping over his youngest son. That reminded him… fees for school were due that day. No doubt his wife would remind him at least 20 times that day… What use was all this studying anyway? His three children were at different stages in school. The oldest son constantly in trouble with the porrukkis at school. He would have to find him a job soon. And he would have to get his daughter married soon too. She might as well stay home and help her mother instead of learning, what was that subject, ah yes, geography! Fat use knowing where Kenya was on a map if you can’t make dosais at home, he thought grimly. Stepping out after a hurried bath, he glanced disinterestedly at the idlis awaiting him. Again…. Really, the woman has no sense at all. How can a man get through the day till his break with that in his belly? His wife saw the glance and was on cue with the reminder for some money for fees. No matter, he was going to have a proper breakfast at the local eat out anyway. What did another ten rupees matter? After all he needed the sustenance. Eating two idlis, he pulled on his khaki uniform and set out. She knew what he was going to do and started shouting behind his retreating back as he headed out. Don’t forget the money she said, and we need some for groceries too, you useless good-for-nothing. I should never have married you...three children…in this big expensive city…. What are we going to do? Ramu barely heard her over the slamming of the rickety door on his way out.

Some of his friends were hanging around the lane, some brushing their teeth disinterestedly, some deciding if a bath was worth the wait in line. He waved to all of them knowing they envied his little bathroom with its makeshift plumbing. He smiled satisfiedly sensing their jealousy. His favourite eating joint was crowded but he was a regular. A masala dosa and coffee and he was off. His bus was waiting for him. His chariot, his steed. His pride and his prison rolled into one. He loved driving his bus. He sat atop the city’s traffic. Everybody was scared of him. Even the autos. Inside the bus he reigned supreme. He could be magnanimous and let people pass or be brutal and push them out of his way with his sheer might. Even the cops thought twice before they stopped him. But the building traffic in the city had robbed him of a lot of joy of driving. Coupled with the bad steering wheel, which felt terrible with a rapidly arthritic arm, and long hours at the wheel, he had lost his initial boyish enthusiasm for the job. Now he only hoped he had a good day with no idiots getting in the way. No stupid motorcyclists, no fancy cars with dumb drivers and no cops. Ha...let them try today he thought grimly…just let them…
He had driven buses along most routes in his 15 years with the city’s transport system but this route was his favourite. It took him through the city’s landmarks…the railway station, the famous market with its amazing flowers and vegetables hoarded every morning and evening, a public hospital, and a century-old church. But the nice part of the route was a small stretch along a graveyard, fittingly uncrowded and peaceful. Except for the regular roar of the bus’ engine as he pulled up to pick up passnegers from the bus-stop. His conductor today was an old friend, Karthik. Nice guy, they worked well as a team. He grinned to think of the stories they had shared, the frequent jostling of suspicious female passengers on crowded days, the cut they had taken from a pickpocket caught in the act, the random harassment of college boys too big for their boots, the desperate looks of people watching the bus leave just as they got to it. That was always funny, he thought, even after so many years. And Karthik would always time it well, blowing the whistle only when the man or woman thought they had made the bus in time to watch it belch its way to its next destination.
He strated up the engine and they were on their way. Just thirty minutes late. Not too bad. He could fudge the time on his sheet and take off 15 minutes from that. Market, station, church…the bus was full, the day was hot and Ramu was getting irritable. Three giggling girls had begged to leave their bags near his steering wheel so they could hang on for dear life to the rod near the door. They kept chatting while maintaining their balance on the curvy road. Lunch seemed to have been a long time ago and Ramu desperately wanted something better than the now-warm water that was within reach. The graveyard was coming in sight. Usually no people at that stop, but today there seemed to be a small crowd there. A group in mourning. On a whim Ramu decided he wouldn’t stop. The bus was full anyway. Nobody would blame him. He signaled to Karthik that he would keep going. He saw them too late. A grandfather and his grandchild toddling along, crossing the street. Not fast enough to avoid the sudden burst of speed Ramu had put on to avoid the busstop. Not fast enough to hear the shouted warnings. Not fast enough to step a few inches away to escape the hurtling bus. It was a blur, mangled limbs, a bleeding toddler lying by the roadside, the grandfather nowhere in sight. And then Ramu saw the arm, flung across the road as though in a desperate attempt to cross the road in time. And then he saw the leg. And he knew what had happened. Should he run or stop to help? What could he do anyway? It was an accident. And then he saw the faces.
They started to come together in groups…people from the busstop carrying the rage of a missed bus, people along the road left forever with the image of a ripped-off arm from an old man, people who had been in front of a bullying busdriver before, the boys he and Karthik had tormented, the women who had been jostled. A sea of faces…angry, waiting for revenge. And they were in front of his bus. His windshield shattered and a stone landed near his foot. Then he saw they had sticks and bigger stones. Maybe he could run to the back and take cover. He turned. The bus had emptied of women and children. Karthik was nowhere to be seen. A few men were left. They had seen the accident and they had chosen a side. In their hands were handles and window stoppers and loose rods from the seats. There was no place to go. The faces came closer. Ramu felt one stone hit his temple and a crushing blow to his stomach. He thought briefly, irrationally, of the school fees that would not be paid now, or ever, before they dragged him out of the bus. There would be two deaths that day.

I am taking the Fifth!!

2007-02-16T15:19:00.000-08:00

Funny things one learns from kids... how to deal with difficult situations for instance... when to talk and when to flat-out refuse to incriminate oneself!!! So D-Poo is generally a mild-mannered child ouside of her home and isn't wont to seriously misbehave... usually all I hear are the "oh, she was running around screaming with some friends" sort of remarks from teachers at her school. So imagine my surprise when her teacher sidled up to me one evening when I was picking her up and said, "D-Poo had an incident today." Caught off guard I nodded rather hesitantly and she recounted the afternoon's events. Apparently the non-eating progeny of mine had decided to take an aversion to broccoli cheddar soup that was on the school menu for lunch. Instead she decided to make up a healthy meal of croutons for lunch and was proceeding to decimate everyone's share of the goodies, when her no-nonsense teacher suggested that maybe she would get no more croutons till she at least tried a taste of the soup first and pushed a small bowl in front of her. At which the daughter decided to give her the sullen-look treatment and proceeded to pick up her bowl and emptied the contents into a bin and walked away, claiming she'd had enough lunch. You see how bad this is, a 3-year old decides hunger is preferable to listening to a teacher.
So anyways, I nodded my agreement at the teacher's handling of the situation and decided it was time to rope in the father and have a good talk with the offspirng. So after much telling her how certain CD privileges would be revoked if such attitudes continued, we drove home. I was mentioning the incident to my better half and he turned to D-Poo and said, "So, amma says you have something to tell me. Do you want to talk about what hapened today in school?" To which the daughter replies, "oh I played with so-and so and did such and such." Of course, then the hubby gently directs her with,"well do you want to tell me what happened at lunch time today? Did you eat your lunch?"
And that was when it happened... a veil of secrecy dropped over her eyes, she turned her head away from him,lifted a stubborn chin and said, "I don't really want to talk about it." When pressed for an answer, she went on thus, "It disturbs me. I don't want to discuss it."
Well, did she cave you ask? It's been two weeks, my friend, and while we have talked about it to her and between ourselves, it is a secret that will stay with her. We will never know her version of what happened to the broccoli cheddar soup that day. OJ Simpson, you have met your match!!!

And I love you too, Sweetheart!

2007-02-09T12:36:00.000-08:00

So, three long years ago, my life changed. From being the wag I went to being D-Poo's mommy. It's been fairly good, though. Loved the little bundle from the beginning and she's only gotten cuter. And, of course, while I fondly imagine my life before her in nostalgic, "I-want-to-throttle-her" moments, life's been good. She talks so much and when she's asleep with her tiny hands cupping her chin, my heart just brims over. Not to mention the wonderful feeling of having her snuggling close to me when she's half asleep in the morning and the "softie" cheeks that just need a little snuggle in the warmth of the shared blanket!!! She's my little first-born: a cherished loved part of me that can never be repeated again. No matter how many siblings she has, D-Poo will always be my special, little surprise.
So, in a daze of motherhood, 3 years have passed me by. The daughter is tall enough to pull down my sock-basket from my shelf. She now wants to be "by herself and close the door, please" while on the potty. And she has definite tastes in music and will choose random badly matched clothes to wear. But she still needs me and I love it most of the time. And I blog when I don't love it. Good with the bad, right? Maintains balance and that sort of thing... But then why does it hurt so much when she tries the same thing?
I point you now to the source of my sorrow... My little D-Poo has started off on the rite of childhood that seems to inflict most kids these days .. The "I don't love you" when she doesn't get her way stage. It started a couple of months ago. She did something she knew was wrong and of course, me being me, I said, "D-POO! You can't do that ("that" being whatever little transgression happened at that point)"...And so she took off to sulk while I was waiting for her apology. And then a muffled voice from the couch proclaimed, "You're not my mommy... you're not my parent...I don't want you!!"
Those words have a lot of power and while they hurt, from the mouth of babes who depend on you for everything, it's also incredibly cute and laugh inducing (which of course is the wrong thing to do). And so I did the big thing, ignored her as best as I could, till she crawled up and said "sorry" in a very small voice and with a hug everything was over.
But for the next few weeks, it started to come up pretty often and sometimes would get pretty bad with dads being disowned too. We would joke about it sometimes just to get her even more riled up by saying..."Okay sweetie, maybe you want to live with someone else's mom instead?" and proceed to name people she barely knows... of course she would clarify that we weren't acceptable, but then no one else would do and would we please hasten and agree to do whatever she wanted anyways?
Now any mom would have caved early in the business...but last night was bad...bad meals, too much tantrum throwing and finally, I couldn't take it anymore and ticked her off only to hear "you're not my mommy... I don't want you... I only want my daddy" for the third time that day! Tears just came cascading down...MY CHEEKS!!! Did she really not want or need me anymore? Was this a door to the future, a mom forever on the outside of her daughter's affections for wanting her to listen? What about my "we'll be friends" fantasy? And when we got out of the car, a very tired little girl jumped into her mom's arms for her bedtime story and everything was right again. Until tomorrow...So, when can SHE start writing whiny, complaining blogs when she doesn't like me and stop saying "I don't want you"?

The trouble with gifting!!!

2007-01-15T18:15:00.000-08:00

So, apparently, writer's block is a thing of the past...
This is January, just past the "season" during which we all greet each other (ever seen a hallmark card?) and that bane of my existence: give gifts to everyone.
Now, let me place my usual disclaimer in place...
I like gifts: I like getting them, I like giving them, I like opening them and mostly I like using them (my friends thankfully have good taste!). But there's a limit and the Christmas/NY season really is the last straw...And when one has a kid of about 3 forbid the thought... Christmas and Ny can continue into July!!! And september and October...
Gone are the days, when one could just pop by to a friend and sometimes get a present just to say how great they were...Having D-Poo has introduced me to the world of giving presents just because you have to... Presents when you go to see someone...Presents for a birthday, presents for guests for coming to a birthday, presents when they give something for D-Poo...presents to return the obligation of the other presents and then they in turn will present to return the favour!!! All in all, it's a collection of stuff that occupies said children for few hours in case of toys and few months in case of clothes... what it does is stress out everyone...Cos, what if the gift you gave isn't good enough? or the clothes don't fit? ... or you forgot the gift wrap? or left the price tag in? or the return gift "sack"? What if you meeet these people often? then do you give gifts for the same amount each time or vary depending on the occasion? Do you have to match the amount they might have spent (toys and kids clothes are easily estimated, by the ways, for those mathematically inclined) Is it okay to give the parents a gift for a Christmas party and ignore the child who's mostly pulling down the decorations anyways? And the most problematic question: can you re-gift?
Of course the nice people that most are, will say: of course, it's only the thought that counts. But what if mine was a cheap thought? Or an absent one? Is that still good enough? And so my home and that of other child-having moms are full of birthday gifts, return presents, nice-to-meet-you presents, long-time-since-we-met-you presents, it's christmas presents, it's joy-at-this-time of year present until we're ready to drop under the weight of all that love and kindness.
So with this blog I do set free all the moms in association with me: it's okay to come empty-handed when I invite you for dinner. I will still love you if you give the birthday child gifts without including a gift for my non-birthday child. Feel free to let me leave without giving me a return "party favor" for attending your child's birthday; it was a pleasure seriously and I inflict myself with birthdays only for my friends. I don't care if you forgot the gift bag (but take off the price; it's a thing with me) a plastic store bag is just fine. And a "thank you" card is not necessary at all. We make our friends for what they are, not what they give us and the faster we impart that to our children the easier ourlives will be!! So I do resolve to try and break this chain in present-ing...until the next birthday of course! Gifts are the protocol for birthdays! But only for the birthday child!!!

Bollywood beckons...

2007-01-15T17:59:00.000-08:00

and I must answer the call... to blog about that wonderful world of cinema...
So heres the news, Jr B to marry Ash! To those who preted not to know of such matters, hence from this world... Can you imagine the handsome couple? And, oh, the babies they'd produce... good competition for Shiloh Jolie Pitt!!!
What astounded me was a little tidbit that slipped into the news.. that SHE was manglik!!! and this matters (well, it's supposed to kill someone so in some convoluted way it does I guess) !!! in the world where nothing is real and make-up can take away decades, she is manglik... and didn't have the sense to fire her astrologer!!! And this matters to educated well-off people who really shouldn't care.. or did devdas die a death in vain after all? oh well, I'm still thinking of their baby!!! very cute!!!

Oh, the Guilt!!

2007-01-15T17:44:00.000-08:00

So today was one of those days with D-Poo... when I think she's a little tiny monster solely created to drive me up the wall... spitting her non-likeable chicken satay into my food was the last straw (seriously, I'm even vegetarian!!!)...I finally blew my top at her and a spanking would not have been out of place I am convinced... better people than me have been ticked off by less I fancy... and so I let it rip... I pretty much told her off, suggested she was a hooligan for behaving this way, swore to never love her as much I had and decided to glare at her... at which point of course, she dissolved into tears, and screamed and then I patted her and fed her some more...
so what, you ask? where's the story going you say? Well, actually not much farther cos I was truly mad... short on sleep, stuck with the late shift at work... and then I said "sorry kanna, didn't mean to shout at you" sort of the way I always do ...
And she turns around and says: "It's okay, amma. I know you didn't do it deliberately!"
What is one to do but fall in love all over again!!!

Tag the Wag

2006-11-20T15:11:00.000-08:00

I'm kinda running on empty cylinders right now since daughter is being most amiable and I have no decent blog ideas...So for lack of work apparently, I am going to revive the tag that hip prudester foisted on me...
For the blog-innocent: a tag is when someone asks you to write some x number of things about you that nobody else really wants to know (including the tag-ger, but they usually find out after the fact!!)
Okay 9 weird things about me:
1) I love peeling grapes with my teeth before I eat them....yeah gross.. but try it before you scoff, my friend!!!
2) Hate toothpaste tubes squeezed in the middle... people... follow the instructions... it says "best results when you start at bottom and slowly progress to top" sheesh!!!
3) Hugh Laurie, George Clooney,assorted older actor guys ... YUMMY!!!
4) Detest poetry (hah prudester, and sissy and ink.. take that)
5) Love daughter (sometimes! that's the secret part)
6) I am a sloth... if nothing needs to get done, I will postpone doing nothing!
7) I cry for B-grade Hindi movies! So this is a recent development (since D-Poo it's become worse... I cry for ads!!!) ... I am discovering as one ages, one descends into illogical-mother-like behaviour... point being I CRY for Hindi movies (and Tamil and English and Chinese and .. you get it)!!!
8) I hate bananas... I mean really really really really relly really really really really HATE bananas... the smell, the shape (seriously! Phallic symbol?! Sooo cheesy!!) the texture, the dirty spots everywhere eeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwww... enuf said, people... hope you're enjoying your fruit now!!!....
9) I love sitting at the beach just listening to voices from far away carried across the waves.. they tell me stories...
And so enough said... am definitely coming back to blog-land since Time has voted for me as person of the year I can't afford to let them down!!! Must keep up my end of the bargain I guess :)
Take care all..

New Beginnings

2006-11-18T13:52:00.000-08:00

So D-Poo has started at another daycare... all supposed pluses... at the university with hopefully like-minded people...very close to me... dubious advantage, I get to do drop-off and pick-up.. but on the other hand it may build closeness...or else I will damage her psyche forever by throwing out her favourite very annoying CD from the car...She's been very happy though and considerably less dirty at the end of the day which leaves me wondering why I didn't move her sooner...
The visit to India of course has passed from her mind except for some ladder-climbing incidents and other random recollections of P-Boy cousin. But some effects we still fondly hope are true and long-lasting... like her attempts to insert more Tamil words into her vocabulary (she mostly sounds like a echo whe we speak but I'll take anything)...I fancy that her tolerance of spicy food has increased (false but I'm a deluded mom...gimme a break here...)...She still has no concept of tradition as I would have her know it but loved the fireworks anyway...And her idea of mythology is still rather sketchy (maybe the parents are to blame for that)...on the other hand we did get her a couple of Noddy books and hope to introduce her to wonderful world of Tintin and Asterix as she gets older...I still can't get her to apologize to the Goddess of learning (saraswati) every time she steps on paper...Maybe it's I who needs to get a life!!! oh well...
Maybe our next trip will have more lasting effects...Or maybe we should move back???...

To our health!

2006-11-10T11:44:00.000-08:00

Well, My first post-India blog was going to be a maudlin, meadering recount of the fab time that was had by all especially D-Poo...but while that blog is still languishing in d(r)aft format I just had to share a community laugh with what I just read...
So, every mom this side of the Atlantic/Pacific and on the Asian side has surely heard about competitve parenting and "helicopter parents" and playgroups etc etc... bearing in mind that the country that invented parenthood as a "lifestyle trend" instead of just "life" was responsible for the epithets, this new "trend" I thought was a hoot...Please read
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/11/09/fashion/09drink.html
For the ones who decided to not waste more of their time the article goes somewhat like this: 5-8 mommies meet on a weekly basis and leave their kids to play with each other and sit around, drink and gossip...
So now the fashion is to mix diapers and martinis and I am sure while one can be had shaken or stirred the other is best left undisturbed...I love the absolute irony in all this... the very women who started "healthstyles" and trendy parenting have now decided that the ony way they can retain their sanity while pretending to like all this is to get drunk! These are "kitty parties" with a twist...and some salt with the margarita please...
And us poor mothers who've barely caught up to the trend of "careful parenting" (child-proofed homes, Mozart for a newborn, rigid diet control and book readings for pre-schoolers) are already also-rans in the quest to be the new "cool" parent...Ah! NY Times take pity on us poor souls... we've just managed to whip up enthusiasm for every "painting" the daughter brings home (so not to damage self-esteem)... just figured out how to navigate play dates and sound totally in control...just figured out how to make fairy-dust from mud...and now we have to pour a bar-standard drink with our one free hand? And what do we say to each other? Complain that a friend's way of bringing up her child gives me an inferiority complex? Or that maybe another's gives me hives just thinking about it? Wait... there's even a guide on how to manage this marvel of parenting ...“The Three-Martini Playdate: A Practical Guide to Happy Parenting” ..
Oh wait... that's right.. I don't have the time to do this sort of thing...And in this particular case the inclination... but here's to happy hour parenting... Cheers...

I'mmmmmmmm baaaaaaaaaaaack!!!

2006-11-07T14:13:00.000-08:00

in blog world and how I've missed everyone...(the 3 who read my blog that is)... refreshed, rejuvenated, exhausted, alive and happy.... as you mightve guessed jetlag hasn't worn off yet!!!
But seriously the trip was sooooooo good... and more importantly, D-Poo had a blast... of course she's still too young to be annoying when she complains about mosquito bites and one only feels sorry for her... but all in all quite the trooper...she loved being fussed over, cared for, loved to bits and cuddled a lot by everyone...especially the cousin P-Boy. Was truly cute to see the two of them hugging and kissing quite innocuously of course and having so much fun!!!
My daughter though doesn't believe in just enjoying the moment. Jealousy soon set in and her attention-seeking ended in appalling tantrums and the appearance of "bad Dhriti" at regular intervals till we decided to dispense with the schizophrenic solution to dealing with her weird behaviour... if this is any indicator of the kind of sibling she's going to be, boy, are we in for a rough ride!!! And she started the trip by knocking herself int he teeth and ended it with a head-to-head butt with said cousin!!! Zizou would have been proud...She still has a bump on her head as evidence!!
As for the mommy, rejuvenated only sort of.. it was brought home to me how much I need and want to go back home... can someone out there give me a job?

Feeling for roots

2006-10-08T16:37:00.000-07:00

For those who know me, the rant I go off on about being "displaced" is not a new one. I went through a period of putting down roots in this great and free land and somehow these past few years, those tentative spreads to "settling down" seem to have badly failed. So now I am in the "when can I return" phase of the life of an immigrant. Into this equation is a new variable: D-Poo. She's of course an ABCD (American born confused desi for those of my audience who STILL don't know it)who says: "schooal" and "yennai," has never been to a temple and has no concept of eating "kaamam" at all. Has never had dosai/idli for breakfast and wouldn't miss it. But somehow I want her to. I have long held dear the claim to myself and all and sundry that a new land when adopted has to be in all its glory: dating for all and meat in the lunchroom even for Tam-brahms and white boys to marry. I have freely mocked the old fuddy-duddies for trying to transplant "tradition" (translate: Sanskrit classes, mandatory classical music and temple visits galore) for kids whose tradition is mostly Thanksgiving turkey, Halloween and associated sales at the stores. And as transatlantic voyages became commoner and globalization a household word, so too became an essential part of being a dutiful ABCD (and the parents of said ABCD): the stay in India to imbibe and assimilate.
Well, I think the whole eating humble pie analogy comes to mind as we prepare for our maiden trip to India since D-Poo ceased to be a baby and became a human being. Here I am thrilled to bits that D-Poo will see her first temple, listen to random music blaring throughout the day, travel in autorickshaws, and buses and trains and will hopefully get dirty and muddy and try to catch the crows and the stray dogs with me chasing after her!!! I am glad she will see women in sarees and salwars and bindis galore. I love that she will have uncles, aunts, grandparents, neighbours and assorted "uncles" and "aunties" fussing over her and commenting and clucking and generally being themselves. But why should it matter so much? After all, that is really not her life. Her life is her group of three rather grimy friends in day care whom she never sees outside of those four walls, the supermarket made up of aisles she can pelt along full tilt, and the car seat. And us in our lonely glory, her only connection to India. A fragile human thread to link her to our past and our life. A life we want her to know if not to appreciate. A life where we felt we were in command of what happened. A life that in retrospect seems simple and importantly happy. A life where the only thing missing was her. And so we want her to see, to feel, to live as we lived.
It reminds me of stories my dad would tell us: of stealing mangoes, poking fun at teachers, getting beaten when caught and endless cricket games. Punctuated with anecdotes of food. We laughed at him then, bored 15-year olds humoring him with feigned interest in a story we had heard millions of times. And yet, I can see it now. Why it was important to him we see his life as he knew it. Simple. Happy. And we will be doing the same, a generation down. Even if only briefly. Maybe when she gets older she will understand why.

Is it okay...

2006-09-27T22:50:00.000-07:00

To lose my temper at D-Poo? No, I know the answer to that one and yet I find myself doing so and sometimes over the smallest perceived infractions... Such as "why can't she wear her socks the second I command her to?" Why doesn't she brush her teeth at the moment I tell her to and does she really need to hang at that awkward angle? Worse still, is she doing all this deliberately?" The answers are of course rational and I know she doesn't mean it. But then shouldn't she learn better? Isn't she old enough? I, unfortunately have fallen into the trap: of the expectant parent.
When they're just babies we smother the need to receive back as much as we give to them. But as they get older this changes. We expect something back in return too: obedience, ability to dine with royalty without splling the icecream, and later in life academic and social brilliance. Of course very few are driven all the way, but parents do expect.
And so we get disappointed and in some cases irritated. And those of us with rather unexpected tempers do snap back sometimes (D-POO!! That's quite enough! Get to bed right NOW! Do you want a time out?) .
And then they learn to cry and your heart melts with the salty tears running down their cheeks which are turned on at will it seems. And definitely when it's closer to bedtime. Annd the guilt returns full force. And you end the day looking at your sleeping child who you just scolded minutes ago. The utter peace on their faces, free of guile, trusting. And then you promise yourself: Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow, I will be the adult. Tomorrow I will leave her be. Tomorrow, I will not be tired and grumpy and overworked. Tomorrow....

Divine Intervention

2006-09-24T17:27:00.000-07:00

The average Indian will know of the great "mundan/mottai" experience. Babies and children ranging in age from 6 monnths to about 8 years or so with variously shaved heads. Sometimes found chanting the name of the Lord as they trudge up (or down) from Tirupathi or whereever else their family decreed they lose their pride. And then the tradition aspect: with each family having a personal favorite deity and a defined number of mottais one was supposed to have. And then of course another tradition: do we inflict this only on the boys or does equality mean girls participate too? And will there be divine repurcussions if one breaks with the tradition (stupid question that one: Of course! Duh!!). And so we marched into the 21st century, armed with a socially acceptable explanation to salvage our conscience for carrying on a silly tradition: If you shave off the baby hair you get more even growth and get rid of any defects (actual and supposed) in hairline and baldspots on the crown of one's head. Ah! At last a sensible explanation as to why the elders started the practice!
After the above para most readers (3!!!) may be forgiven for thinking I was going to break the mould... Ha!!! Witness the latest victim to what a conservative, traditional upbringing can do to a normally rational human being.... What?, you say? Expliquez, s'il vous plait? Sure, here goes:
D-Poo, the poor unsuspecting victim of this tragedy was slow to start talking. I, being rather naive, had assumed my daughter would start rattling off 6-syllable words and be compeltely understandable when she hit this milestone. But she wasn't. She babbled and grunted and said gibberish for about 4 months after her 1st birthday. Being said idiot, I assumed the worst: speech delay maybe? Would I need a therapist? And other assorted foolishness associated with first time parents. But this is hindsight with its amazing clarity. While going thru said throes and pangs, in a moment of weakness, I had a flash: Maybe this was how the family deity on my hubby's side was taking me to task (well, I need to spread the blame, don't I?) This vaitheeswara deity is a form of Shiva who came down as a doctor, in lore, and thus is the principal deity of hubby's side of the family. All the kids get mottais done as a matter of course. Until D-Poo! We had struck a compromise with atheist father and God that we would just give the hair from her first haircut as a mark of respect (we really have to come up with better gifts to the gods... no wonder they keep us on short leashes!!!). Those who knew the squawling new born will agree there was a fair amount of generosity going on there. But maybe that wasn't enough... Add to the mumbling gibbberish part, she kept falling ill (first exposure to daycare says amazingly clear hindsight) and I felt obliged to make the worst kind of promise: On behalf of someone else!!! And this was the deal I struck with God...let her start speaking I said and make her all better (3am and a child with an ear infection!!! Gimme a break too, will ya?) and we can see about that mottai.
And of course she's talking... won't stop sometimes even though I beg her to. And screams and sings and yells... well maybe we can deal with that in another post...Point being I was stuck... deals with God are rather immutable in my mind and sort of irrevocable... but when do I break the news to hubby and when do we do this and leave the offspring's psyche intact? Till it hit me ... Ah ha in India!! No one will even notice... and so her 2nd birthday past and we were going to India in Oct when I dropped the bomb on hubby dearest...Wow did the shit hit the fans and stink up the house (to be fair I can't blame him for this one no matter how hard I try to find a reason)... After the cooling down happened... he pointed out to me very reasonably (with a little gnashing of the teeth) that India was the WORST idea!!! Everybody would want to know when, why, where,, who did it... did we do it at home or in the temple? And so we were going to do it here and take the grisly offering back to India (lucky for me I had worked this very situation into the deal with lovely God and had only arranged for hair offering.... I love that Hinduism has no hell... hmm, is being born as an earthworm really any better?) And so dear reader, the deed has been done. Unfortunately subject to an extremely foolish mom, my dear firstborn walks around with a shaved head (NO! No pics) complaining that she doesn't like her haircut. It will upset her for a couple more days, but I am more upset than anyone else. My daughter for the very first time in her life has no hair on her head! I have to cry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The skinny on being fat: it's how MUCH you eat, stupid!!

2006-09-14T17:20:00.000-07:00

I really ought to give up reading the news... keeps giving me mommy blog ideas and I end up ranting and raving and writing for hours on end...oh well
As teens, a lot of us spent umpteen (Ha!) hours annoying fathers and brothers preening in front of mirrors, examining ourselves till we were just right. Add to that a need to look slim and most of us watched what we ate or at least pretended we did. And, of course, dissed our moms who kept telling us to eat well and other assorted friends and relatives who would chirpily claim that plump was so becoming!!! Really what did they know... and what was this obsession with food anyways? And so we travelled into our 20s and 30s eating enough and dieting when we felt that fave pair of jeans fold down near the tummy!!!
And then babies happen.... and we turn into our mothers. Feeding a yelling screaming newborn (and all the assorted things that could go wrong if you don't do it just right) is just the beginning of a lifelong commitment to feed until you or they drop!!!.... then there are the milestones for weight and height that you feel you should meet and then when they feed themselves you never know if they've had enough... cos really how much can she fist into herself at that slow rate and with an attention span of a butterfly, right? And so starts the average mom's obsession with feeding... her baby, her hubby, herself, the neighbours, her friends. Moms must never see anyone go hungry. Tired? You should eat. Stressed? You should eat. Sleepy? Drink some milk. Just had dinner? Have some dessert. The solution to everything becomes: FOOD.
But at what point did we lose perspective that we're in the middle of an obesity epidemic? For KIDS!!! That in a starving country like India, diabetes due to overeating is fast becoming the number one affliction among poeple who can eat. Pictures of kids stuffing their faces was and is never cute.... and yet how can we blame the mom who only wants to feed her child? And so we have fads: the health food fad, the diet and exercise fad, the low carb fad, the jump-up-and-down-20-times-in-the-middle-of-geography-lesson fad and the think fit fad.
The obsession with food is not new to any culture. While there is good food people will enjoy it. Rosogollas and naans are truly things of joy but not in multiples of 20 and 3 upwards respectively. And in a child, surely a trait not to be encouraged. But while there are moms from poor countries who are newly introduced to either easy food or a lot of disposable income, the result always will be the same: slightly cherubic children!!!
And yet, I will continue to harass D-Poo into her 20s and her 30s... exhorting her to eat right (how about some fruit? No... okay then how about some nuts?) and lots more than she deems necessary... as long as she realizes it's a foolish mom's preoccupation (okay, well, obsession) and remembers to rely on her own good sense and judgment when enough is truly enough, she will turn out just fine. Until she becomes a mother. Sigh! And so the vicious cycle shall continue.....

Naturally yours!

2006-08-30T13:02:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago while welcoming a reader to the blog, she mentioned how the breast-feeding dilemma was so true except she felt another myth was worse... natural vs assisted childbirth... (yep strictly a mommy blog... those with timid hearts need linger no more!!! Hehehehehe!!!) ... I had sort of filed it away for.... like whenever ....since my recollection of the arrival of my daughter was pretty hazy at best... But then I saw this ad...and here I am boiling with righteous indignation... Get to the point you say? Well here goes...

First the ad: Attractive (who isn't, right?) 8-month preggie woman stretching near a beach. Still able to wear leggings without looking like an ad for an elephant in tights. And the blurb, " Learn about natural childbirth and delivery. Bring your baby into this world safely in the only way that is good for them... etc etc. etc" You get the picture... labour, screaming, babies emerging all good. Epidurals, painkillers, scalpels, forceps, baby emerging all bad (except last one but then the baby's screwed anyways so we can classify that as bad too).
Before I proceed, here's my disclaimer in place: I am not advocating one way over the other (same as the BF blog). I love it that we have choices to suit our bodies, our temperaments, our lives and within boundaries these are all choices to be explored to their fullest. But I strongly object to nonsensical, fairy-tale proportions of some myths that are mindlessly propagated without thought or consideration to other's feelings on the matter.
Being in this wonderful land of the free, we as first-time moms get fed a lot of information (which according to sources gets disseminated to public in unsuspecting countries too) . Like which is the best way to sleep, what to wear, what's best for the child .. when to burp the baby etc etc... And none is more insidious than the idea of natural childbirth...no medications, no painkillers, no forceps, and the biggest taboo in this new age hypothesis is the C-section...For first-time moms having the baby (sometimes unplanned) is the first time they are in completely uncharted waters. And if you come from society such as ours (traditional, Indian household) you've had very little discussion about what you're about to experience and will form the focus for the rest of your active life (retirement and evening years with hubby don't count in this). And so you read furtively at first and desperately towards the end, afraid of what might hit you in the second and third trimesters of your pregnancy.. if you're lucky enough to have friends (or sisters) who've been thru it you listen to freely handed advice and then you ultimately decide ... that natural is best... for, you want the best for your baby, don't you? And then all the reports on insecure C-section babies. C-section babies doomed to be on the fringes of life. More susceptible to physical illness and emotional problems they say (do they stalk the streets at night questioning every random drunk and druggie and would-be suicide-r whether they were born the right way?) . C-section babies it seems are cursed just by the thoughtless act of coming out a different way from other kids. And their mothers are to forever suffer the sin of neglect at that time of birth. And this guilt can make them think differently even when time is of the essence just so they don't let their child down and condemn them to a life of a ...what? A normal healthy child who probably grows up loving its parents just as much or as little as the baby who was born accompanying shrieking, mind-numbing cries from the pushing mom!!!?? Why do we let fads overcome good sense? And all of us do ... is it a protective motherly instinct that comes out in full force at inconvenient times in bizarre forms?
Seriously though, who funds these studies? More importantly why? Are they themselves insecure moms seeking absolution for their bad parenting skills on a process that most do because it woud save their child's lives? Don't they realize by constantly shoving this stuff in our faces, it only makes nervous moms even more worried that they may forever doom their child by the choice they make when they are coming out? As one of two fairly normal C-section kids (who had her child "naturally" by the ways) I feel uniquely positioned to comment. Children and their parents have enough to navigate through their lives and mistakes are constantly being made. Compared to parental neglect when the child is in the teens, the possibly life-saving decision for mother and child in the labour room must rank so much lower in a child's development. Do these thoughtless "study" proselytizers ever realize the havoc they play with moms' emotions who had a difficult decision to make at a very fragile time? So please stop it all, everybody. Babies are born and lives are led every day, everywhere. Some make smart decisions, some dumb but how a baby comes out of the womb is the last thing he or she will remember or care about when they're 30 and looking back. It's the stolen afternoons and the many cuddles and hugs and love (post the age of 8) that are most remembered. So C-section moms, fear not the woman who stretches so happily in her 8th month of pregnancy .. it's pretty likely she's going to have a C-section but doesn't know it yet!!!

Legacy

2006-08-30T10:38:00.000-07:00

Dear D-Poo,
I hope when you get older and if this blog still exists, you will read this post... It's stuff I want to tell you but somehow never seem to... in the midst of the daily routine, I sometimes forget that what you are today you will never be again. And the moment will be gone forever. So before I forget I want to tell you stuff that I should have told you and may never do...Here goes:
1) I love you: I thought about saying this at the end.. what the heck I might again!! Not just "Good morning, love you so-you- can-go-to-school" Or the "love you" said in absent-minded response. But the "I love you" I feel when I see you stretched out next to me on the bed.. snoring ever so slightly. The I love you I feel when you come to me and give me a hug and say "amma, I love you forever."
2) Remember to believe the best in everyone: There will be times when people try to crush your spirit or cloud your perceptions (including thoughtless parents). But never mind them. For remember what I told you"everyone in the world is good. Only very few people are truly bad." I hope it will help you be a better person than me.
3) Hold a squirming earthworm in your hand: It feels well "eewww" in your language. But it teaches you to be gentle for otherwise that little worm might get crushed... Also its just cool!
4) Splash in every puddle you find: Ignore annoyed mothers and go ahead and splash! Catch the rainbow in the oil that pools on the surface. When you start searching for the pot of gold at the end the rainbow can get left behind!
5) Believe in fairy tales. You never know when a frog might turn out to be a prince... or that pumpkin into a porsche (more fun than the prince!!!)...
6) Lick your plate/bowl clean. For that last bit of ice cream or the last taste of thairu saadam with all the flavours of previous courses is truly heaven on earth.
7) Dance naked in front of mirrors for as long as you can... for clothes will be put on you fast enough!!!
8) Peel a grape before you eat the flesh ... it's fun and yummy and grosses everyone out!!!
9) Learn an art.. something you love ... that makes you whole... for that which you enjoy no one can take away from you...
10) Remember: cream biscuits (yes biscuits not cookies) should be split whole, the opposing side without cream should be eaten first so you can lick the cream in peace!!! Mmmmmmmmmmm
11) Never let siblings get away with more than exactly half (except money, which is eminently give-away-able!!!).
12) Remember to slurp while eating a mango (especially along the seed)... The juice will drip down your arm and taste the better for the salt from your arms!!!
13) When you walk down a dark path look up at the stars... you will never be afraid in the presence of their beauty.
14) Listen to the waves at the beach. If you pay attention, they'll tell you a story of far off lands and new people (and sometime monsters).
15) Above all, tolerate your parents as you get older. For their eccentricities will become your habits when you become a parent yourself.
Finally, I love you. For being a sweet, adorable, annoying, whining, crying, laughing, singing, dancing, bratty, tantrum-throwing, nonsense-song singing, bane-of-my-existence, joy-of-my-life, worry-of-my-future, massaging-my-feet, monster-like angel child. I hope you understand.

Love,
Amma

Separation pangs!

2006-08-28T15:44:00.000-07:00

I'm back after a small break to do a spot of dancing... Performance went off well but it set me thinking about something else... I spent the day before I left and the days away worryig about daughter and hubby: Did they eat (properly!), did she sleep all right, was she cheerful at school, at home, did she keep asking for me, am I being a negligent mom? I got back, received a hug at the airport and she was off... so that begat (is that a word even?) the question...How much does D-Poo actually miss me? It's not that evident in her urge to talk to me over the phone (none whatsoever... urge, that is)... That hug as soon as I land is all very fine except that a minute later she's back to doing what she was and pretty much ignores me the rest of the day... and the crankiness- is it because she was missing a parent or the fact that she just caught a cold? Do we mothers (the over zealous, worrying, hovering kinds) overestimate our importance for the immediate welfare of our children,.. that if we are not around for even a short while they would just melt away into a nothingness ...I would like to believe my daughter needs me ... every minute of every day...so much that my working or not working is an important factor in her emotional and general development. But I may just be kidding myself.. that the time spent with her friends is doing a lot more for her general feeling of well-being than being around me (mostly boring chore-oriented sort of existence)...That as long as she is fed and clothed and sticks to her routine maybe all is well in HER world...For a couple of days at least... so is my guilt worth it? And can I stop feeling it by all this rationalizing? My guess is not... I am certain women more sensible than I have attempted some degree of detachment and failed miserably through the ages... And so I will continue to worry... everytime the phone rings when I am not in her immediate presence... I will imagine the gravest dangers and biggest injuries (ever mind that her biggest wound to date was when I was around)... It is a stress I have come to accept and something I cannot actually imagine my life without... Gone are the days when I used to mock my parents (correction: "paranoid father"... mom was too cool) for worrying because I now can understand. For what would happen if she hadn't missed the leg of the chair while falling? Or what if she doesn't come down the slide the right way? I have to be prepared, right? Or am I just losing my mind? At this point the distinction is hard to make...Did I just hear her cry? Or maybe not....Better check...

We eat rotting food...want squirrel instead?

2006-08-18T14:13:00.000-07:00

This has been bothering me and is not a mommy thing...So mommy blog seekers steer clear of this one...
So we live in a world where globalization rules..and it is flat proclaims Thomas Freidman of the NY Times. And so it seems especially along the coasts of this country where states are proudly painted blue during every wishful presidential campaign.... And we immigrants soldier on... confident in our belief of a changing world where all are equal and our kids can go to Stanford...Till you get stopped short so hard and suddenly that the wind is knocked out of you...
What AM I saying you ask? Let me explain...
For starters I live in a pretty rarefied part of American society where most of the people I meet are liberal, many had heard of Bangalore and India before they became a collective bad word for lost jobs and telemarketers...All have college degrees at the very least if not an assortment of other letters signifying even higher education... And so I have had the good fortune to live among people who I thought understood me even if they hadn't seen India itself. Surely they knew there was more than casteism and religious riots? That people knew to wash their hands for the most part and wore clothes and had seen cars? And then this happened...
A few days ago, I had heated up my food at the microwave (only reason packed lunches are tolerable these days!!! We can reheat them!!! YAY!). As usual it seemed to garner the reponse of "mmm your food smells good and "what is that?" and "is it spicy?" All of which I try to treat with modest(!) equanimity and answer politely... In conversation, one person wondered out loud: "I wonder why spicy food is always associated with hot places? It seems rather contrary on the surface of it (we'll bear in mind the summer food this country craves is salad and leave them to their ignorant misery!!!)... To which I had the whole capillary-dilation-leading-to-evaporation-and-cooling theory ready for her and was going to mention it...and then out came this shocker from the mouth of this PhD-bearing person ... "I think maybe the food gets rotten so fast they use the spice to cover up the taste of the bad meat and spoiled vegetables!"...After wiping the remains of my jaw off the floor, it was all I could do to sputter something like "I don't think so" and I was still gasping for air when this person decides it's fine to continue in this vein about rotting food and people from hot countries for about 5 minutes... Aghast sensitive individuals also gathered there at this point decided to try and change the topic but the woman was persistent... and proceeded to ask me if it was so...and so putting on my best cosmopolitan smile and it-doesn't-bother-me-armour I tried to explain how we do not really have rotting food in our fridges and the spices mostly add flavour---a concept until recently completely unknown to the white man!!! Well she remained unconvinced and I remained seething... why do I feel I have to listen to this sort of ignorance from a person who a few days before spoke about eating SQUIRREL stew (so may be I am not in such rarefied society after all) and hunting rabbits for food and other assorted gross meat sources?
It truly boggles the mind that these people consider themselves "civilized" and rush in to save others from perilous things like hmm... rotting food? And what bothers me more is we buy into it... slowly we convince ourselves that what we had done all our lives somehow was bad and profess a great love for salads and fewer spices and health food... We poke fun at the newly landed FOBs who need to add Maggie hot sauce to everything they eat (Hah! those bumpkins with destroyed palates!!) ... And listen to assorted annoying Indian people proclaim "going back to India" for two years to live out the death sentence of no-green-card-at-end-of-H1 in a fancy posh area of Bangalore as an "experience"... So then are we better off being able to appreciate squirrel stew?

Play D'oh!!!

2006-08-08T16:16:00.000-07:00

I remember this conversation from a lifetime ago (actually just 6 years but anything before D-Poo seems like someone else's life).. A bunch of friends... mostly newly married types... sitting around and chatting about the ludicrousness of people "these days"... about anti-bacterial Fisher-Price toys and how irrelevant that became the minute you put it on the floor!!! Or a table or a sofa or just opening it from its antibacterial package itself!!! Hermetically sealed for our protection it would be contaminated the minute it became useful!!!
Well, that was like I said BEFORE D-Poo!!! And now I see why the companies do it... because there are enough moms who will believe something if told often enough .. even biology PhDs!!! And so everything is elevated to a learning experience: Sucking your fist is now an exploratory mechanism for "baby" to explore the world. Flinging stuff around randomly just because you can is "developing fine motor skills" and toddlers refusing to eat is "determining how far they can push your boundaries" (the implication being the said boundaries are made of stretchy material depending on parents' temperaments!!!). And so things that all babies did around the world for centuries past without thinking about, this 21st century generation has elevated to an experience that they and the parents can benefit from!!!
Case in point: We went to the Children's Discovery Museum in San Jose. Before I proceed I have to say that as places go to take a kid to, this is much better than a Gymboree (overpriced kiddy toys and pointless activities as far as I am concerned) and all the other "theme parks" /kids' activities we are usually subjected to. It is a science museum for kids and is loads of fun for the adults too which usually never happens.
So there we were on a weekend enjoying ourselves quite a bit and while D-Poo entertained herself at one of the many "activities" (how I detest that word) designed to "help your child grow". This one was play dough... and for the uninitiated desi types who form my main readership this translates into "ATTA". Well here's their description of this age-targeted activity for toddlers and preschoolers:
"In this open-ended activity children are invited to explore play dough. They can strengthen fine motor skills by scraping, rolling or cutting the dough; express their creativity by shaping the dough and expand their sensory knowledge by touching, squeezing and simply getting messy!"
It really was too much to keep a straight face there in front of all the eager first time parents (pretty much no one with siblings) and make a dignified exit before I stated howling. Unfairly egged on by better-half I might add. Now, I have spent many an evening roughhousing with a ball of atta stolen from amma and gotten quite messy doing it I will admit. But I don't really think at any point we viewed it as a learning experience that was destined help us progress in life. Rather just one of the fun things we could do as kids and were encouraged to do. When did having fun stop being fun and have to be educational all the time? Why does blowing bubbles have to be treated as a co-ordinated skill level and running around screaming and having a good time seen as an invite to ADD (attention deficit disorder)? And why must children not speak loudly (admittedly this can get annoying in a theatre and in kids over a certain age but that is an exception) and always behave? Cos if they did all these things we'd be raising a generation of mini-mes with possibly all the weird freakishness associated with that character.
And so mommies, revolt against the organized play mafia and pick up your rolling pins and get into that kitchen.. for the time spent at home watching you do regular things like cooking and cleaning and working and being a responsible adult is the best learning tool you can ever equip your children with... And it's free!!!

To work or not to work

2006-08-06T00:07:00.000-07:00

Well this blog is developing as a "mommy" blog as a certain reader commented and somehow I am not able to stem the flow... It's just easy to write about stuff that occupies your mind everyday than to worry about Lebanon (Altho' I have to admit, I am particularly touched by this conflict given that Mid Eastern conflicts have been going on for the best part of my lifetime...)
I was reading a blog entry by Rashmi Bansal (Yes sissy, I use sites you've listed and like most of them)... Made for interesting reading on the matrimonial ads in newspapers...Now I have long perused these very ads and found them in varying degrees funny, tolerable and downright abominable...I read her rather funny account of all the various types of women listed by type and degree of wanting to work after marriage...
Unfortunately there isn't any real manual to predict what we're going to be in life and the baby curveball is truly something unexpected. Me for example: Those who knew me when I was "of marriageable age" (Rashmi Bansal, Southies are pretty much as bad while advertising... Check out the Hindu for the TN version of HT!!!) would have left the salary+job line completely blank...I was developing that "eclectic" resume and pretty much had no clue what I wanted to do...Fate or good luck led me to make the only independent decsion I had made in a long time and I married my lovely hubby... with misguided notions of feminism (prodded along by said hubby) I went forth into the world to find my place...And I became the career bahu (lucky me had a non-objectionable type MIL) and did pretty well for myself... Worked hard, first in journalism and then back in science and earned a PhD in the process of figuring myself out... and then D-Poo happened... and now everything was confusing.. this wasn't what I wanted my for child surely? To get up every morning and be left in the care of strangers for the whole day? Will they care enough for her? Will she develop the way I want her to (ABC before she was 2)? What about being at home when the kids need you there? That was the dream, wasn't it? But wait a minute, how about living up to the degree you fought so hard for? The bare knuckle way of dealing with stuff and the untiring energy to do your job that got you respect at work? And how come some days I am glad to escape to work?...
I am now at a stage where I come to work not convinced any more that I am doing the right thing always... That maybe the right choice was left at daycare 15 minutes ago. But then again, I console myself that my daughter will grow up to be proud to have a mom who did something to define herself by and have a role model to look up to in her times of conflict and find it a comforting source of strength. Maybe. But what if she doesn't?
And so I have come full circle... salary+job line blank ... followed by full details on both definitions of success and back again to blank...
Am I better off than the women who feel bad they gave up their job to be there for the kids? Or worse off than the moms who love that they can be? I think it's a matter of choice as Frost did say once ago and all the enjoyment is in the travelling after all. Isn't it?
And so all I can be grateful for is that at least I no longer need to be an ad in the papers...

Nursery blues

2006-08-02T15:53:00.000-07:00

Wagging Away
Chapter 2: D-Poo goes to pre-K

Yesterday was so nice for me... with a heart bursting with pride I dropped my daughter off at her day care. With her cute turtle backpack and clean shoes and spanking new haircut. I fancied I saw a bounce in her step as she stepped into the room.
Why the sudden surge of emotion you may ask? After all she's been doing this awhile now right? Ah! But you'd be wrong!!! She's in the pre-school section now... with the BIG kids!!! Now, how much of a difference this promotion in life makes to her is unclear but the difference it makes to mine is obvious ... apparently all too obvious... one toddler-section mother stopped to enquire about D-Poo and upon being informed she'd just started a day ago, she nodded sagely and said "Ah that's why you look so proud!!!" That's when I humbly realized that kindergarten "graduations" (complete with diplomas) were invented because of sucker parents like me!!!!
D-poo herself isn't quite so sure about her upwardly mobile status in life... as far as she's concerned, she's stuck with kids she doesn't really know, different teachers and different routines... but she's a trooper my daughter she is... or at least we've decided she is ... so for the next 25 years of her life she'll just have to live up to that reputation...seriously though, no major outbursts yet and seems to be quite fine through the day too...Of course, all that emotional blackmailing (about how all the big kids she likes won't play with her unless she's in pre-school) seems to be working at least temporarily...
So now all I need to worry about for the next 3 years is how soon "gifted and talented" children can go to school... And what if she's NOT gifted or talented? Is there some way I can find out now? And if she's gifted what does she have a talent for? Math? Music? Sculpture? Will I ruin her life if I let her stay in an average school?
I think I know why parents have second children... it's when they realize the single biggest threat to their oldest child's self-esteem and general happiness is themselves!!!! Spreading out the paranoia is the answer!!! So here's a question: How crazy are the moms who have 3 or more?

Get off my breast!!

2006-07-28T10:37:00.000-07:00

No, it isn't a continuation of the theme that darling Sissy started ... it's just a response to an article I read on CNN... and ad nauseam on every parenting site, health site, news site, TV ... the list goes on. The current objects of my fury are called apparently "lactivists"... an "empowering" term for annoying people who like to shove their superiority as breast-feeding mothers in everyone's face!!!
No, I'm all for it... if you can do it go for it... it's functional, free and most sanitary and billions of people have flourished doing the thing... most intelligent cultures (which automatically excludes all white, caucasian cultures) have recognized this for eons and it's just fine. These sensible cultures aso have had the benefit of being poor and recognize that a full belly is the prerequisite and not what an aging hyper protective mother thinks is a baby's birthright!!!! So what evolved was a commonsense approach to feeding a child... Do the best you can and supplement if you need to. No guilt involved.
America in its newly discovered role of promoting this age old cusom has decided that going overboard is the best route to follow... so what we have are annoying smug women who were able to feed constantly talking about it. And the opposing force being really insensitive women who can't bear the sight of breast feeding... Isn't there a happy in between? Where moms are supportive and understanding? I have decided the only thing stopping women from tking over the world are other women who can't agree with aforesaid women...!!! Sheesh... give me the guys!!! Can't believe lesbians want to live with their own kinds!!!! Oh well....

On hiatus and back

2006-07-10T10:31:00.000-07:00

Wagging Away
It's been a while since I wrote in my blog... since then, Warren Buffett couldn't bear being second-best and in a grand show two billionaires are betting that philanthropy is the next big thing... I love it... Wish there were more billionaires who felt that "dynastic wealth" is a terrible thing and that rich people's kids should have enough money to do anything but not enough to do nothing... beautiful sentiment if ever there was one!!!
Billionaires apart...my audience of one (ahem! you know who you are) has put forth a suggestion: a weekly update on charming antics of a baby soon to be human being!!! And of course since he calls her "poo" this series is entitled "The adventures of D- Poo!!" The protagonist will do nothing from morn till night except wreak general havoc, be cute when you're ready to wring her neck and generally be a normal 2-year-old although in my fond moments I have her conducting the London Philharmonic... I shall try to be an unbiased narrator of said events but hey! I'm the mom and am allowed some editorial leeway here!!!

Prologue:
All I remember of the supposedly most beautiful moment of my life was woozily (drug-induced haze at a hospital no less) holding a substantial bundle of sheets and a sort of pinkish ball where the head was supposed to be... I was scared I was going to drop it and quickly handed my bundle over to the nurse who was more sure-handed than I was feeling... mmmm beautiful baby moments ahead I thought and settled into my last two nights of peace for the rest of my life....

Chapter one:
Fast forward two-and-a-half years...mostly cos I don't want to bore you with oft repeated details of struggles with diapers (what morons cannot figure out a diaper? esp the prefab ones I used which are so un-eco friendly!!!???)... Also the first year is relatively boring despite what I assure my friends!! hehehe...
The fun starts when they talk... and talk Poo does!! Living in Santa Cruz CA gives one a certain appreciation for the "dude' origins.. surfers and bikers assemble by the hordes and everybody is a six-pack abdomen "dude"(or worse a "dudess") and things are always "gnarly" (as in great, dangerous, freakish, admirable or any adjective you care to think of can be replaced by said word)... However, it takes on a whole new dimension when from the mouth of babes spring the words : "check it out dude"... So, what does one do? Give in to your natural instincts and double up with laughter while her teachers glare at you? Or do the good mommy thing the tell her "That's not the way to talk.." Now I'm all for manners but honestly cute is just cute... And if watching Finding Nemo is an acceptable fact of life so is "check it out dude (quote from aforesaid movie).
And so, my labor of love (that phrase is so apt on so many levels!!!) grows on... chanting nonsense songs ("Gabe is in the closet") endlessly and mostly at the top of her voice in a closed room when we're trying to watch TV, or running pell mell in an impossibly small home, and generally being a rich source of entertainment... So in my blog I shall attempt to recapture some amazing moments that make mothers want to have second one!!!Ciao until later...

The Window(s) to Giving

2006-06-15T16:06:00.000-07:00

Wagging Away
I'll admit it... I am an idealist, hopelessly so... and I thrill to great speeches (by politicians nonetheless... I told you I was hopeless) and love to read of great acts of selflessness and sacrifice. So today when I read the following quote I caught myself with tears in my eyes.
"I believe with great wealth comes great responsibility - the responsibility to give back to society"(a quote apparently first credited to Spiderman-truly! I kid you not!)
What a truly noble thought. Except it comes from one of the most reviled men in history. Not as many venomous words have been written about the most nefarious villains in history as have been written (and thought true) about Microsoft founder Bill Gates. He's an easy pick right? Rich guy feeding off the system that fed him. World domination is his goal say the critics...he doesn't want anyone else to survive they claim.... and so on and so forth...
But here's an undeniable fact, the guy is the real thing. Smart geek who made it cool to be a nerd. Capitalized on it and made buckets of money. Became the best at what he could do. Here's my idealistic part... I'd like to think he did it just to show that he could... Cos honestly after the first few millions it's easy street for most...
And now he's making it cool to be rich. He' s using his personal power and money to do what he thinks needs to be done for those who need it. His Foundation's grants have helped many parts of the world who've only dreamt of the kind of aid Gates is prepared to offer and (importantly) right NOW!!! So now he's going to privatize charity and damned if he isn't going to do it HIS way!!
So finally the vilified becomes the venerated with one stroke of pure genius marketing aplomb and a few billions worth in personal fortune. Expect to see malaria vaccines on every developing nation's desktop soon!!! Happy giving, Bill Gates. I don't know what you're getting out of it, but I don't care!!!

Wagging Away

2006-06-10T10:48:00.000-07:00

Wagging Away
I just realized if I did a google search with the current name for this blog my first 5000 matches are going to be doggie websites... oh well! up with it and wag away my four-legged friends for this is a free world for dogs, immigrants and other white people!!!

The blogging innocent

2006-06-09T14:32:00.000-07:00

Random Thoughts

A couple of months ago, I decided to jump on the blogging bandwagon and contribute one more useless thought process to the endless barrage of "ideas" and "writers" and "creative" content on the web. Aha! I thought, blogspot. com would be the best way for me to show the world what it's been missing all these days. Then as I filled out the settings form in great anticipation I had a truly original idea: Why don't I make this a free form thought forum and call it (a fit of inspiration seized me here) : Random Thoughts!!! Perfect! I wasn't going to be one of those people who preached about stuff or wrote about their dog or posted random (that word again) photos of/by themselves or even just use it to chat with other people. No! I was going to be unique and say stuff as I thought of it. What better way to write than to not imitate (see my previous blog "lack of imagination"). And so I put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard in this case) and wrote stuff that came to mind feeling so unique. For surely no one else had had the idea before? Right? So to prove my point to myself, I did a google search...
Oh well... turns out that there are at least 6 other people who have the same title for their blog and say .. well... sort of random things!!! So I am not an original after all... and not even in exalted company... Alas, are blogs not a medium for the individual to rise above the rest but to only mingle and be lost in ever larger crowds? Forever condemned to mediocrity and family readership??? Is there not a way to rise above this morass of randomness and be the person you were meant to be? With novel ideas and impeccable execution of aforesaid ideas? Well I believe so!
And so I have decided to rise in indignation and change...the title of this blog!!!! For surely I can think up something better... catchy... perfect .... I have it!!! Random ideas????? Wayward thoughts? This is going to take longer than I thought....

The people definer

2006-05-30T14:17:00.000-07:00

Random Thoughts
I decided, on a whim, to take a career assessment test. I sat through about 20 minutes of random questions at the end of which the computer screen would exactly determine what type of person I was, what my skills were, what my strengths were (and therefore presumably my weaknesses), and what sort of job would best suit my temperament (top 20 it said). Of course, the test was free online. But not so the assessment (obviously). What I got was a long page with little tidbits (H is great; she'd make a fine manager, wonderful writer, excellent performance artist and homemaker and etc) interlaced with long paragraphs of blanks... to be filled in when you paid up for the executive package or some such thing. Every description was designed to set off alarm bells in your mind about your general capabilities unless of course you actually ponied up the money to be reassured you weren't a flaming failure in the blanked out parts!!!
So here are my edited "results": I possessed an above par "holistic" sense of concepts. Holistic being a word that was peppered everywhere in descriptions of my ability to interact with people ( I don't pay enough attention to individuals), interpret data (were they saying I am not thorough enough?), communication skills (do I mumble THAT much?), and managerial skills (Oh my God, I knew it! I'm bossy!). I am hooked by this time... I like the flattering parts and am dismayed by the bits that read "H has a holistic appreciation for everything in the world. But that does not ....(blank)...." What were they going to say? That I secretly am a geeky, buck-toothed, psycho? That I ate grasshoppers at my last meal and likely would for my next? Or I am a hopeless deadender doomed to seeking my job forever and looking at character assessment profiles but never getting a real job (Yikes that one was too close for comfort!!!).
Finally, I scroll down impatiently to the bottom of the page. What exactly did they think I was going to be suitable for? Executive? Dishwasher? Footpath singer/dancer/entertainer? I so hoped it was option number 1.. sounds way more fun to be sitting in a cool office ordering other people around to do my work for me! Hah! there was the table to tell me what my future held in store for me... a personalized crystal ball to my successful future as...
AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!! I DON'T BELIEVE IT!!! They blanked out the top 10 positions I would be fit for. The listing started at position 11 as editing some god forsaken thing that I forgot about as I was reading about it (doesn't augur too well for editorial positions I must say!) and continued to list singer/songwriter/entertainer as another possibility at about 13 or 15... I knew I was headed for the streets. But what was option 1? And 2 and all the way down to 10? Surely I could land one of those? If I knew what they were... How much does the professional package cost again?

Choices-On the road more travelled on!

2006-05-29T15:57:00.000-07:00

Frost was right ... there are always two ways. And if you choose the one less trodden-the hidden implication being it's oh so exciting and full of derring-do - we would be wise to remember that is usually the beginning to a book full of unfortunate events ( I am still in the midst of my lemony snicket saga).
Consider that if you have something cooking on a stove... clearly you have choice to turn it off or leave it on... the path less trodden would dictate you leave it be and see what happens. But then it is easy to see that the end result can only be unhappy (people yelling, alarms going off and a generally pissed neighbourhood is sure to ensue presuming there are no fatalities and your house is still standing of course). But you may argue, that is not really a choice you need to make and Frost was arguing for something more profound, ambiguous, lasting maybe?
Here's a scenario (I am living this as we speak of course): Important things to be done... cleaning the house, prepping for the next day, putting your financial house in order, calling up friends... clearly the chosen path...Alternatively, lounge around, neglect all jobs and post to your blog...Now I can hear the chorus, of course the first you say... some might argue oh we can do both... but here's where the water gets muddied .. what if I suggest wasting one's time blogging about nothing (and reading said blog) is the chosen path and that doing one's jobs is clearly the alternative SUV requiring route? Aha! Stumped you haven't I? Especially with the reading blogs part? Thought you'd found a loophole...
But you protest once more... don't be silly what sort of choice is that? Besides there weren't any blogs those days ... (I am currently working on a post-modern hypothesis in poetry that during the dark ages of pen and paper, poetry was a man's best blog! But I digress...)...
Final possibility: delicious meal!! Decorated with your favourite topping of choice (aha! a hurdle right there isn't it? Is it raisins or maybe chocolate sauce or maybe those yummy cashews?) Do you eat it immediately or keep it aside till the last amazing explosion of flavour in your mouth? What if: you ate it first and had to struggle through the rest of the god awful meal? Or you kept it for last and it turned out that you were too full to enjoy any of it ... that is if you could actually get around to eating it? Pointless waste of going on the road less travelled by!!!
So ponder carefully my friend before you decide to follow that poet's words. Remember most of them were penniless layabouts. In following advice like that you might end up lost in a forest forever instead of entering an enchanted wood with beautiful people (where cashews can be enjoyed at the end of a humugous meal and burning stoves never set your house in flames). Remember that poets at their very best and worst were but poor muddled bloggers saying something on a quiet afternoon hoping the world would heed their words. So be alert and beat that trodden path down to a rut in the road. You'll be better off for it. This blogger says so and the computer is better than pen and paper. Or is it? You choose!!!

For Dad-before Father's day

2006-05-22T15:51:00.000-07:00

Random Thoughts
Another Hallmark holiday looms ahead : Father's day. The sop to the poor left-out halves of parenting just so that Mother's day doesn't look biased or anything. Because surely we must encourage all the poor dads who're just waiting or appeciation? But here's the thing-I don't think so... Moms ? Sure they love all the fuss and frippery, the gifts, the reiterations of "I love you," the cutesy things that families are supposed to do... Dads on the other hand are quite happy to come home to happy families, to kids who're doing their own thing and happy about it and general peace in their little slice of the world. They don't care do they whether we give them the best gift to mark a day? Cos surely if they wanted it they would just go out and buy it for themselves. That's what makes them dads...not moms who wait for someone to notice they want something and then buy it for them when they're not looking. And then feel bad if someone doesn't. Dads are so much fun!!!
So here's my paean to dads all over (I am not sending a card nor am I buying a gift... he won't even know why... he's lucky he remembers his own birthday and that we do... sometimes): Dads are what balance out paranoid first-time moms (like myself). Dads are the ones who will cheerfully toss a toddler into the air without wondering if they will miss her by a hair's breadth on her way down. Dads are those who fall in love only once in their lives... with their very first-born daughters (it's true... there's a bias ... just own up to it!!!)!!! Dads are those who remember the small things in life... a funny word their kids say, a stolen afternoon together with the family... Dads are the ones who teach you their music and show you their lives as they knew it when they were young boys. Dads are the strong, silent types who recite poetry to their family ... that they wrote themselves!!! Dads are the ones who repeat the same joke for a lifetime (cos now it's a family joke!!! Still boring...) ....Dads are those who think it's all right to dream and help you not to lose your way while finding yours. Dads are the ones who give you ideals, help you learn to spell, confound you while trying to teach you mathematics (or chemistry or driving a car). Dads teach you to go to work every day sometimes only because you have to for the sake of someone else. Dads teach you that life and love are sometimes the same thing. Dads are the ones who'll put a blanket on you when you fall asleep studying. Dads are those who want you to be better than themselves ... and when you think you are, pull you down a bit (it's healthy to be humble)!!!
Dads are the ones we avoid from the age of 10... neither talking to nor granting them the importance they once enjoyed ....while we try to find our muddled way and they stand helplessly by. Dads are the ones we appreciate at the age of 30 for teaching you to be true to yourself and the rest of the world. Dads we appreciate when they're not around to help us make decisions anymore...for their wisdom and their love ... for caring enough to let us be ourselves... Thank you dads!!! ...We love you!!!

Children, children!!!

2006-05-20T09:57:00.000-07:00

Random Thoughts
The great immigration debate rages on... now it's almost comical how the two "sides" are behaving. First of course we have the endless row of "liberal" Hispanic reps/celebrities who profess their great love for this their new land (only if they can of course not speak the language, eat their own food (which is de-lish by the ways), look down upon everyone else, continue to moan about how they are regarded as second class citizens, and then proceed to prove their point by singing the national anthem of their adopted English-speaking land in Spanish, the tongue of their left-behind not-so-wanted-except-in-my memories motherland!!! Oh god, talk about shooting yourself in the foot....
And then the people that proclaim themselves defenders of this land are even more embarrassingly childish!!! Instead of building on the "let them shoot themselves in the foot" sentiment they go on to bluster about protecting the country's traditions and proclaim English as the official language!!! I am rolling about in laughter... I thought this sort of thing only happened in "developing" countries!!! Apparently, education in elite universities and a good life still does not guarantee intelligence and common sense! Has the entire world gone mad or am I just hallucinating... the Islamic world cannot tolerate anything said against them, the Christian world is convinced everybody except them is going to hell so we might as well speed them on their way and the Hindu world... Well they weren't very sensible to begin with and luckily are too small to cause any lasting harm!!!
Until this country finds out that immigrants are people who are not necessarily white, Christian (all right so Jews are permissible these days, not so long ago when they were the invading hordes) or quiet (Chinese, Indian, and any other Asian group for the most part) and learns to live with it, this is one debate that isn't going to die down. America has to decide it like immigrants or it doesn't ... in which case it can go down the path of a sliding, aging population, lousy food, and poor global competitiveness.. hmm does that sound like Germany?

Grandmoms remembered-on Mother's day from a generation removed

2006-05-14T07:45:00.000-07:00

Was lolling about on a typical Sunday morning unable to sleep cos of a horrendous cold that's been bugging me for the past week or so...Anywyas, I got around to thinking of my grandmom (I am a sort of random person... get it?). She passed away this past winter (January 2006) at ripe old age of almost 80 something...
I have always missed having the grandmas described in stories and that my husband has had the good fortune to have. His grammy is a small sweet courgeous woman of apparently unending talent and courage, who refuses to cowed by life, disability, constant pain and a pretty typical household that depends entirely on her good cheer without quite realizing or acknowledging it. His other grandmom I never got to know but sounds like a woman of great humour and wisdom, beloved by all she knew and an established authoress.
I on the other hand had just one grandmom all my life. My paternal grandmom died (I so prefer euphemisms-died is just cruel to say) when my dad was in his 20s before he got married (he still jokes it greatly increased his marriageability in the eyes of the protective moms of prospective brides)...So for all intents and purposes Kunjamma (little amma... origin attributed to my cousins who got monikers confused) was all I had... Unfortunately for me, my grandmom preferred grown-ups to kids and then only when they listened to her. An extremely brave, stubborn and conflicted woman, she never quite figured out how to love all five of her offspring equally... The daughter of a widower who remarried a woman not much older than my Gm herself... promised in marraige to her cousin (which thankfully for all concerned turned out to be the best choice she would make for a very long time)... ill-treated by her aunt/mother-in-law (really women just have to learn to be nicer to each other so we can take over the world) .... Life soured her and kept her dissatisfied and angry through her entire life.... And while not slaving over the stove cooking for five kids and a husband and demanding mother-in-law within the confines of conservative south Indian tradition, she found time to enjoy little things... stitching classes, the little pleasure of a snuck -in cone of peanuts... a young woman forced to grow-up too soon trying to find herself in a small way... I have memories of her finishing my class projects for me with neat little hemming stitches (a talent she hasn't passed on to grandaughter or daughter!!)...stitches that would take me a whole year not to do, she would finish in day till I got so spoiled I would save up all the stitching I hated just so she could do it instead!!! As I grew up, of course I resented her with her confining view of the world, often unable to appreciate how she had had to adjust so much and was just trying to push back a little...we grew apart and I would often tell my hubby how I wished his grandmom was mine too or that mine should've been a little nicer like his...
But one thing she had that no one could take away from her... a unique brand of stubbornness and hardiness that seems to be a trait of women of that era... despite all the problems life handed to her including a bad stroke that felled an incredibly active woman, she still managed to beat back pain and discomfort to live life on her terms... With a paralyzed arm and leg, she still washed her own clothes, hung them out to dry (the way she had always done) and refused help wherever she could just to show that she was still herself.... I am not entirely sure I could face those sort of odds and have the will to live... Modern medicine has reduced us to a bunch of truly wilting lilies...As I grow older though in some strange way living a life that is common to women through the world no matter where they're from (babies, husbands, conflicts, resolution, progress, moving away from tradition, fighting for what we believe in, wanting our daughters not to go through what we did) I am starting to see that maybe she and I are not that different after all and only the expression of that feeling varies.
I have a picture I am glad I possess... four generations of women, my grandmom, my mom, myself and my daughter... caught in a snapshot of time...Four generations with a common thread of blood and I hope of courage to face life for what it is and with grace... It was the last time I saw my grandmom... Finally I can say, I did love her...in my own way.

On phone-tapping, parenting and not much more

2006-05-12T11:00:00.000-07:00

Random Thoughts
Hmm ... I've been away a while... so news update... GWB is tapping our phones!!! My god I've been listening to all the rattle and rumpus about this... it really annoys me that now all of a sudden people can see how bad this guy is just because he's down... I feel quite sorry for the guy now and honestly at least he has the gumption to keep doing the wrong thing .... the democrats on the other hand are the eternal crying, hand wringing, whining, complaining machine... They remind me of the quintessential playground bully's sidekicks... the ones that can't do the punching but are more than happy to kick a guy when he's down just to look good...!!! Honestly the democratic voters deserve better than a sidekick... they need a bully of their own... okay that's my political piece... I don't care really... I don't vote, I am definitely having my phone tapped (the benefit of having a father who used to work in Saudi Arabia), possibly having my emails read, pay my taxes, reside here legally, like my job and the people I know and work with so I am going to count my blessings and be happy!!!
On to important things now....I have a two-year old daughter... the cutest sweetest piece of humanity one can find (of course I am not biased) and we love her to bits (the husband and I) .... but I am discovering being a mom isn't quite as easy as the lovely posed-for pic in Parenting magazine or the pics on assorted pregnancy and motherhood websites would have ou believe... The ideal view of a mom is one who's popped back into shape (no tummy fold either), has time to put on make-up, wear nice clothes without stains on them, and one who can deflect all crises (like squished food and temper tantrums) by sheer force of good cheer and love for the blood-of-my-blood.... That seems to be my rather fond and possibly embellished memory too of my mom (except she never wore make-up!!)... then of course reality sets in when I look with dismay at my favorite new black sexy top (it has sequins!!!) with a smudge of snot dried across it...And the jeans I vowed I would fit into a year after the pregnancy that I still squeeze myself into and of course the mess that I call a home bears no resemblance to the elegant house of my dreams!!! Toys everywhere, ink drawings on the couch and the doors and general chaos...I like to think though that there is great joy in all this madness and that little feet only grow ever bigger and this time today is lost tomorrow ... and with a sigh I wear that pretty top I was going to lose weight for...

ESP?

2006-05-08T10:38:00.000-07:00

Random Thoughts
All right, I just got back from a good weekend of chatting with family... Funny thing how growing up together can mould thoughts and character the same way even when we're far apart... My brother and I ended up starting blogs about the same day, and with the same sort of layout, concept and even our topics of the day are similar!!! except of course he hasn't learnt the value of fewer words to make a stronger point (I'm so the older sis)...Life is odd in the turns it takes... I would never have predicted that I would be so far away from home and that my brother would be the one to stay back...
Oh well... time to get back to work I gess... will write more when I can think of something useful to say!!!

Random Thoughts

2006-05-03T09:43:00.000-07:00

Random Thoughts
I am so missing home... home is India (for those who didn't quite figure that one out from the immigration rant!) ... Somehow 8 years into living in the US surrounded for the most part by people who are understanding, can point to India on a world map and intelligent, I still feel very alien... Just want the morning sounds back, the milkman dropping off the bags at your door, amma saying her prayers in the morning, cycles ringing their bells, smoke-belching buses roaring past the house, vegetable vendors hawking their fresh wares, kids running to catch the morning school bus!!... and the smells of coffee, milk, food cooking for breakfast and for lunch boxes, garbage bins overflowing (okay so I don't really miss that one too much), agarbathi lit up ...hmmmmmmmm
I think I had a pretty decent life back home, affluent but not filthy rich with a certain groundedness that comes of travelling in full buses and hanging out the door by one hand and praying you reach safely befoe your arm gives way. It makes it much harder to live here without family and social structure where you don't have to watch how you behave everytime, the only people who understand it ar epeople you pretend you don't want to associate too closely with... the FOB experience (fresh off the boat for the uninitiated) oh well better not get too teary I have a job to do... Good morning America!

A lack of imagination

2006-05-02T11:01:00.000-07:00

Random Thoughts
I read a lot of stuff from serious fiction all the way to what is unflatteringly described as "chick-lit" (mostly by soulless guys but we'll let that one pass)
One trend in the latter genre is to write stuff that looks airy and trendy and says pretty much nothing at all. Into this genre arrives the latest episode of plagiarism by a harvard student no less.
What kind of state is this country's education in when English majors who're presumably preparing for a world of writing in some form or the other don't have enough original words in their heads that they must resort to mass copying from already not so wonderful prose? Paragraphs just lifted with altered words scattered about do not orginal fiction make. It is bad enough that we have to deal with supposed brilliant pieces of prose like "devil wears Prada" ... glorifications of a self-preoccupied generation devoted to inane hobbies... oh like buying shoes and the latest designer wear!!!! Does observation of humankind afford only cheap imitations as an option to the true creative process? Is it so hard for a harvard grad to find unique words to describe her feelings/thoughts? It is getting rarer and rarer to find someone who speaks with an original voice let alone an original thought. I'll let you now when I find one!!!

No sympathy... or else very little...

2006-05-01T09:59:00.000-07:00

Random Thoughts

So I was listening to the news today (as usual since I am such an intellectual!) and heard this piece on the "great immigration debate"... First of all it's the great Mexican immigrant debate affecting all the other people pretty much insignificantly!!!
Here's my take: Firstly, I am an imigrant (without any plans of staying on here if I can help it)
secondly, I am democratic and pretty liberal i.e I think I am a reasonably understanding person and sympathetic to the underdog and would prefer if Bush hadn't been voted into office the second time... but you know what luckily it still is a democracy and obviously 51% of the people felt strongly enough about him... besides I don't vote and it's not my country....
Thirdly I do have a daughter who was born here and so feel some ties to this place that has given me a career and a family and am always asking myself if I want to pursue residency here....
So with that let me say I have no sympathy at all for the all protestors out there on the street today. Honestly why is there even a debate about this? Because they came here in large enough numbers that they feel entitled to demand legalization? I can understand the fact that people who've been here 5, 10, 20 years don't want to be treated like criminals and sure make them legal if they haven't been criminals or whatever . But frankly, this is a country with laws and if the rest of the world can respect that and you don't treat any other country this way there is really no need to expect that you can coolly walk over and expect the host country to say yeah sure you contribute to our economy so stay.
I came here after standing for hours in line at the consulate along with hordes of people who'd done the same and slept overnight on the road in line for the chance. We showed our papers, got humiliated by the immigraiton officer there, grit our teeth and bore it and rejoiced when we got the chance to come here to do what we wanted. I stood in line, at the "alien" admission counter, thanked my stars they didn't interrogate me, proceeded to work 14 hour days, 6-7 days a week, kept a low profile, got treated like a second-rate citizen, still am treated like a second-rate citizen, don't get to see my family for extended periods of time but I stay legal. And I don't claim that any of my countrymen who snuck in deserve to be treated better than me (even if they are hardworking and contribute to the economy by providing low-cost services) and given amnesty .. for that is what this is. A free pass for those who broke a law.
These protestors want the fruits of living in this country claiming that the US destroyed theirs (like the french ruled the algiers but not quite in the same league) but don't want any of the responsibility of making their own country stronger. For over 50 years our country and its countrymen were derided as uncouth, backward, developing, filthy, weird, hare ramas, rabid but faintly exotic. We are trying our best to fix that slowly but surely and in our country/ies. Then of course, when we do fix ourselves and get competitive I and my like who are legally in this country get treated daily to Lou Dobbs and his like who don't like us playing the capitalism game as well as this country did a few years ago. But the point is we are doing it in OUR countries. What absolves Vincente Fox of doing good for his own people within his own country? What absolves all Mexicans working as hard and doing as well in Mexico? Why waste all this talent and hard work on dreaming about crossing the border? And if you do dream of crossing, why choose the easy way out instead of doing the right thing?
There is a middle path here... do what the US has to do as if it were any other country... build a wall/fence, make laws that are meant to be maintained, but maybe you can make that pro-active affecting only those who break it from hereon now... that is a more than fair solution to the impasse... start a guest worker program and if that isn't good enough for people in Mexico, advertise the positions in Asia and in Europe... I can guarantee that you will find cheap and hardworking labour willing to accept low wages and hard work and grateful for the chance to better their lives.
So anyways, there's my rant for the day...got other things to do now...

2006-04-25T15:01:00.000-07:00

So this is my first attempt at this... My try to stop complaining to people who don't want to hear and complain to the whole world instead!!! Oh well
It's proving much harder to write what I'm thinking of than I expected. So I'm guessing the first few blogs are going to be for my eyes only (maybe a few hundred thousand other people but hah! I don't have a visitor tracker so what I don't know can't hurt me)
So first let me intro myself. I am aspiring....
aspiring scientist
aspiring writer
aspiring dancer
aspiring entrepreneur
aspiring outstanding mom
... sheeesh with all this aspiring obviously I'm getting nowhere...

All right aspiring scientist is needed... I'll aspire to continue at some other time