Wagging Away

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

...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...

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...

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 suppose...

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 tak...

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 re...

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 ...

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 ...

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....

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!!!

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...

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 pos...

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 wou...

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 sh...

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 indi...

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 ...

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 ...

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 ...

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 ...

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 eme...