Caveat Emptor..

There really should be warning labels on kids. After the new experiences in potty training there are other concerns which crop up especially during the terrible twos-wala phase. This phase I'm told lasts till they turn 5 or parents end up in a loony bin, whichever occurs earlier :p

Last night, after he got a second wind and started laughing and playing catch-me-if-you-can at 9:30 I got to thinking...I'm responsible for all this energy. I encourage the rambunctiousness. While Red's taught him how to "THOO" with just about anything...I've been encouraging him to walk and run and jump and now it's been done in abundance.
I feed him chyawanprash and God only what else to give him energy and vitality. And when that energy comes right back at me I'm left floundering :)

At this age, children are natural imitators. They may not be able to express a lot of things terribly coherently but they comprehend a helluva lot. Yesterday the offspring hit me right in the eye with his bottle. It HURT. And I got quiet for a bit. Quelled the urge to spank his butt rosy red and was waiting for the eye to stop watering. The little man got all serious and made sure I was smothered with kisses till he got the "All clear" signal from me before running off to do more of the 'good stuff'!

It's actually quite silly to expect him or any other child to understand differentiations between what is good or bad. Because except for putting his hand in the power socket or touching sharp objects, there isn't much that he can do that I can genuinely object to. I ought not to take him to Gymboree then. He learns to climb, jump, go through tunnels and whatnot!
What happens at home is a reproduction of those activities but in the setting he is familiar with. He runs out the door to climb up or down the stairs (major eeks!), he crawls under the chairs of the dining table, he climbs on the sofas just so he can jump down and the rest of it simply because he likes doing it.
And at this age they really do not understand why their fun time needs to be rationed. I can't have him jump for an hour when it's fun for me to see him and applaud his efforts and then tell him to be a good boy and stop doing it. Confusion sets in. Why is he a good boy for doing something new and then a good boy again for not doing it?

The inevitable will happen. He'll continue jumping up and down, climbing, falling, running, scratching on mud, picking up dirt, taking my utensils, turning on taps and pretty much whatever he wants...because doing something is always more fun and exciting rather than *not*.
Who wants to sit quietly and listen to boring mom's take on the tickly tiger when you can pounce around, growl and roll on the ground the way the tigers on Animal Planet do?

He sleeps less. Only because there's so much stimulation around him and he's become used to it. But he's not a kid who is hyper unnecessarily. You supply the stimulation and obviously something will result from it. So all the bath squeezies that I gave him to make bath time fun have resulted in elaborate games being made up inside that little head and now he refuses to get out of the tub. Add to it the heat and bada bing!

So, to make a long story short. there's usually a reason for most of his behavior. Just need to remember that the next time I slip in a puddle of water in the living room which seems to anything but water :D

The tottering tot and the people in his life

Written on 10th October, 2010

The munchkin completed 14 months yesterday and despite all the comparisons which are inevitable with other tots of his age, am very happy that he's turning into a completely different person from his father and I and is into doing his own thing.

He hasn't learnt fear yet, of that am ambivalent because it stops him from being cautious or listening to warnings about a few things. But at the same time am glad that my fallacies or silly fears aren't getting transferred to him. We make it a point to chase the house lizards instead of my using shrieking and praying for the Divine Hand to strike them dead where they crawl my walls.
He picks up bugs and is a bit picky about his tastes so no unnecessary non-veg stuff has been added in his diet. YET.

As for the people in his life- let's start with my maid. She dotes on him and has been seeing him since he was 26 days old. Every milestone of his she notes and goes and brags about to the other people she works for. They play peekaboo and she's thoroughly tickled when he does his clap-clap and bye-bye. Apparently there aren't too many babies who do it as adorably as mine does :P

His grandparents aka the Mater and Pater. They miss him awfully and keep cooing to him over the speakphone a few times in the day. Am required to furnish details of his escapades and my father (Mr.Impatience himself wrt Moi) keeps telling me to be patient and not scold him. How the tide's turned...
My mother sings to him over the phone and keeps laughing at his antics and keeps telling me to be careful with him and not let him out of my sight much. Yup...I'll do that when the house needs remodelling and I can't afford a proper decorator. The mini me will tear stuff down; the walls too if need be.

His playmates in the building- are few. Most kids are taken care of by ad hoc nannies the parents supervise from the building or via mobiles. The kids try to climb into his pram and seem quite attracted to something in him which I can't quite place. He's unashamedly aloof with another boy in the building, reserving his smiles and claps for the fairer sex. Amongst whom, the fairer the better is the name of the game :)

His father- has become his partner in crime of late. Teaching him to throw stuff, further and further each time is what these two love to do. And Red is also his sanctuary from the mad mommy and her barks and occasional bites.

His mommy aka moi- well..we test the boundaries of our relationship everyday. He knows me better than I know him. He pushes my buttons like few others do and is very quick to manipulate. Kisses are given rapidly to avoid slaps on the bum and deafness is feigned when I'm not compliant enough or other more pliable people are around :)
He eats my food, demands my soft drinks and ice cream and my cellulite is his trampoline.

What more does a child need?

A dog maybe?

If I wrote a children's' book

I would write a book for the people who are contemplating on the contemplation of kids. It would be succinct and would be about the following:

• spending time with parents with kids of differing ages before actually beginning the process of parenting oneself [ the real time fun, angst, swearing, laughing and desire to use sedatives by the parents on the children are quite the eye-opener!]
• changing one nappy, potty preferably.
• feeding a child who has gained mobility. Something that is semi-solid and has a color that can and will stain a light-colored clothing; again preferably yours.
• bathing a child who is mobile and can lift himself/herself out of the tub. Whether the said child loves the water or hates it the result is the same- you will be drenched. Count on it.
• putting a child to sleep. Just once. One realizes that there's a gamut of things to explore starting from tussling the hair, patting the back, singing, cooing, walking, bouncing and yes, ultimately threatening too before the much-desired semi-conscious state is attained by the child.
• taking the child out to the park or any area where the following things excite the tot who has mobility- dogs, cats, birds, cars, PEOPLE...anything actually. Mine once watched a half-crushed slug for 20 minutes and clapped sporadically. So really, it can be ANYTHING.
• taking the kid to the supermarket for the first time. In an aisle which is particularly colorful and bright. And then what happens is no mystery...everything ends up in your cart.
• refusing the child something he or she really wants but you most certainly do not! What follows is the most intricate turns, bends, foot stomps and yelling- and that's just by you. What the child will do is anyone's guess...especially yours.
• watching a child sleep. The peace exuded by the child is so pervasive that you will just drop down and snooze on the spot. Amongst god knows what all. Yes. You will.
• hearing a child laugh. Everyday there's a new pitch, a new gurgle and a new tinkling sound that comes through. It's quite an art form actually. Especially one where it's not practised knowingly so au naturelle will bring out the best.

After all this has been indulged along with a few bites, nibbles, drools, spit-ups, hurling sessions most likely one will take the decision that I did- ride it out.

Everyday's beautiful and exhaustingly so. But then again, who knows how they view us...but that's another post. I have to rush...my lil cherub is yelling his head off and trying to hit new keys to show his impatience with his absent mother.

Salut!

To Grin&Bear it..

The dictionary of idioms defines "to grin and bear it" as thus-to endure something unpleasant in good humor.
But if we remember the original humors, this idiom could just as well end up being a veneer for a choleric individual aiming for phlegmatic.
Truth be told, I seldom have been able to do just that. It usually becomes a case of grinning and baring it. The fangs that it. While the mind takes its own course of exactly who'll be the last one laughing (or in this case, grinning) by the time doomsday arrives.

I suppose good humor does deflect or even diminish a lot of the stresses in life. But it doesn't diminish the stressor(s). Those things/people/situations that turn people into malcontents.

Am I a malcontent? I suppose so. In bits. Sporadically. But I do grin and bear a lot of things that come my way. Either because the eventual payoff's worth it or enduring stress for the "greater good" will also tell of good things to come. Or ultimately because I've got special someones to go and spew bile to.

What really gets my goat is that things/people/situations that cause annoyance on an irritatingly regular basis usually are exempted from learning of the impact their behavior or even mere existence causes another. Ergo grinning and bearing may not always be the best policy all the time.

So till the time a perfect approach to managing stress for malcontents is discovered I'll just take a twist of lime, some tonic and GIN& bear it. So either Tanqueray it or go the Beefeater way...it'll be a lot easier to handle from the other end of the hic hic spectrum.

The gamut of a child's comprehension..

ranges from the minuscule to the gigantic! They can take a concept and keep it compartmentalized or apply it to whatever seems to come close to it.
The end result may end up being funny or border on annoyance depending on which time of day your offspring decides to spew forth his understanding of concepts taught.

Case in point- the toilet training of my son. It's been a long while in the offing. I initially tried after he learnt to sit. Got him a cute turtle potty which was fun to play with. The little man was made to sit on it with and without diapers so to get used to the funda of sitting somewhere for a bit (yes, that's right. He doesn't linger much. ANYWHERE!!) and all he'd do was sit on it and rock away. He'd learnt to control his poop and pee because he'd NEVER go in the potty. He'd wait till the diaper was off or on and do the deeds :)

When he began to understand instructions more, I used to try to get him to sit but he'd end up braking his feet like the Looney Tunes characters and getting him to sit became a task worthy of the Olympics!

I grumbled and nagged Red (who did not help much by saying, "It's time to potty train him you know.") You think?!! I spoke to pals who had baby boys specifically and asked their help (and bitched) and they said let him learn on his own. It'll happen. I said, "from your mouth to God's ears." and waited patiently.

And now the glorious hours are dawning. Potty is being done. Averaging one a day in the potty. Sometimes none at all and others, 2-3 in a day. But the concept has been learnt. The monkey keeps chanting, "mamma, mamma, mamma" when he needs to go. And also when he's done the deed and wants to be cleaned up. He's also learnt that potty= chhee-chhee.

So now the scope of the "chhee" has been widened to include the butt, the training potty, any part of the body where the chhee touches, the wipes, the mug with which chhee's washed, the dirty diapers and all kinds of spots and blemishes that he might come across. Anywhere!!

This morning when Red spilled some coffee, the monkey kept chanting chheee and pointing at the coffee spill till Red got some towels and mopped it up! Again when he kicked some fruit mush out of the bowl and it got onto his highchair, he told me with a lot of solemnity,"Mamma CHHEEE-CHHEE.

But when the actual chhee is done in the desired place, one must clap (loudly), say he's a good boy and be generous with the kissy-kissy. For then and only then can he be prevailed upon for a repeat performance. Else one must be prevailed upon to be flagged down from whatever activity one was indulging in, sniff the ripeness of the diaper, lay him down, take off the diaper to be told in what can only be labelled as a DUH! tone- mamma chhee-chhee :) And be prepared to see a non-diapered lil monkey scamper off the bed and run off to do whatever he wants; minus the chhee-chhee :D

To Ferberize or Not to Ferberize..

There's no question..Ferberize!!

When my son was quite a bit younger and Red and I were still patrolling our room like night watchmen, we were advised to Ferberize him and Ferberize him good!

It was less to do with my being maternal and more to do with a child who didn't understand much of what was going on around him and his two main supports just up and leaving him to cry. So we decided against it and it's only of late that we've felt that the decision was largely an emotional one and not a logical one.

Now that the offspring can practically run around and has given into his intrinsic urge to climb everything climbable, he detests being restrained in any manner unless he's assured of perpetual motion and entertainment. Yeah right! What do I have? Cirque du Soleil in my livingroom? Pshaw!

Anyhow, in order to go and do anything at all these days means having him as my shadow. Normally I wouldn't mind a shadow as cute as him and neither would I mind the constant babble an irritant, but the reaching of his often extends to things harmful for him and a refusal leads to feet stamping and whining.

I can't stand whiny kids. I cant stand mine a tad bit more because he's the cutest most aww le mummum baby in the whole wide world. But even then it's really pushing it when it goes on beyond a point.

So today I left him in his cot and walked around doing some stuff around the house and ignored him. When he started to screech and get red in the face I walked out of the room and half closed the door behind me. He retaliated by gagging himself. When that didn't work ( I peeked to make sure he wasn't throwing up) he finally pulled out the Brahmastra! he called to me plaintively and said "Mamma"...damn that kid! He's good. But I'm better...marginally.

I took him out of his cot expecting to be hugged and exchange kisses and clean his runny nose, when Lo and Behold! The lil dumpling laughed through his tears and clapped his hands.

Now, in time every kid learns that you shouldn't mess with the Mommy person. And so did my kid. But being the ace that he is, am sure that particular point will have to be reinforced daily for the next 2 weeks, at least!

I promptly put him back in the cot, picked up a novel and sat right in front of him reading and oh! did I mention I got myself some tea to add insult to the injury?

So there I was, sipping, reading and ignoring to my heart's content.

He stamped his feet, held his breath, banged his chin against the cot rails and then quietened down and played with his toys till he really got sleepy. Tiny arms were then held out and truce was declared and the Geneva Convention between mother and son was signed.

He now sleepeth and I am left, yet again, marveling at how far ahead kids can think!

But it's like I told Red later, if the kid's old enough to plot how to bamboozle, then he's jolly well old enough to be hoisted on his own petard!

But on a less vengeful note, it makes sense I think for a child to be able to self-soothe. Not because I'm not going to be around or because if I nurture him now it'll spoil him for life. No. The earlier he can self-soothe the faster his own comfort occurs he's a happy baby again. It never hurts to be able to take care of yourself. Even from the cradle onwards.

Now lemme go cry to my mommy about the hard knocks in my life ;)

at the end of the day..

the smiles, the dimples win over the other things combined!

Whether it is a nice, long scratch on the nose (like the one I'm sporting) or a few bites marks (some out of love and some out of anger), the smiles and wiles of a child will triumph over the odds and let them romp home victorious.

My child has a very fixed personal space. His is moderately large (how is that for vague?) and is activated by human triggers more than anything else.
And he's very, very alert. He'll be slouched in his high chair finishing his milk when a movement near the door (10 odd feet away and seemingly away from his line of vision) will have him sit up straight and start off his interrogation in the best baby cop talk ever!

My house, being spacey, has spoiled him a bit because his concept of space is an area where no more than 2 people are present at a time, and even if there are more, they are the ones who are permitted to witness his antics. So during this week, while getting some work (plumbing and carpentry) done at home I saw a different side of him emerge that made me realize that he is really selective about the people around him.

He LOVES to wave at all and sundry but not everyone's allowed near him. Even the ones he goes running after, may not be accorded hugs and kisses. And just because he's dependent on me for everything doesn't mean that he won't aim his kicks at me at the first sight of any discomfort when his space's invaded.

But after some time when the workers leave and the house is restored to it's regular glorious messy ways, it's a jubilant and vibrant child gamboling about as if the ire vented on the inhabitants of the house was a thing of fantasy :o)

Just some time back, after facing some sulks and some stuff being thrown about, I was subjected to lavish kisses and bites on the nose as a mark of all being right with the world.

I really wonder how this one will fare in school...either there'll be regular reports of bites on other children or little girls and dogs being chased as if there was no tomorrow.
Either way it'll be a dandy and there'll always be a share of the bites, nibbles, drools, hugs and sloppy kisses for me alone.

Not a bad note to end on at all.

A duh moment..

is what I've been having for a while now...and today was a maha 3 stooges moment! Minus the boinky music.

I had a face pack on and the offspring was trying to either lick it or touch it or basically just ascertain if it was mommy under the funny color. Anyhoo, suffice to say it that he did not get any of the stuff on his lil stubby fingers. But among the stuff in his path to reaching my face was a comb.

I promptly put it out of reach and forgot about it. Now it would be prudent to mention here that am blind as a bat and without glasses I was batty all the way!
By the time the war paint came off I realized that the comb was stuck behind my ponytail and it was THAT particular item that the son and heir was making a beeline for.

Quite a DOH! moment all in all but I guess banta hai...after gadzillions of subterfuges to hide things from him I keep finding those things all over the place. when I least expect it. 

The one thing they NEVER tell you about being preggers and after is that it addles your noggin like nothing else ever! And if you're anyhow lost somewhere between diaperland and baby mush then the addling is just insult to injury.

But my expression of surprise at seeing the comb perched in my own hair was a wonderful tribute to all that is dumb and Larry, Curly and Moe!

Back again...

Am a little older. Duh! Not much wiser. Duh again! But the happiness has been growing. Yay!

Happiness aka my child is nearly one and hasn't turned into one of those hellions that mothers warn you about. Sadly, only the middle-aged mothers who have sons dating girls unapproved by them warn you about male children being the spawn of the devil. Or something to that effect!

He has gone from a scrawny child to a dumpling and now has lengthened out just right and has a sparkling smile (for girls mainly) and knows just how to manipulate. That is childhood am told.

So from gently cradling his wobbly head, to inducing him to go potty in the lil turtle with the red hatchback, to bamboozling him into having his medicines, hogtying him to clean up his congested nose; we've traversed pretty far. His father and I that is.

And now on the brink of his 1st birthday, all I can remember is an infant dependent on me entirely and each milestone he's attained. Some funnily and some with difficulty.

Would I go down this road again? Ask me after he graduates summa cum laude from somewhere. Hopefully I should have some clarity by then. :p

e-HOW brings you."HOW TO MAKE A BABY LAUGH"

Step #1-You will need a baby, preferably. Else anyone with a less than requisite IQ for their age range will also suffice.

Step#2- Put baby on his/her back and facing you. If baby refuses to face you, move right into baby's face and make like a solar eclipse till all the baby can see is you.

Step#3- Let go of all inhibitions, sense of importance and any positions attained at the office.

Step#4- Prepare to open and close mouth like goldfish, make spluttering sounds, even farty ones and basically sound like a clown on uppers and downers all at once! If that allusion doesn't ring a bell, think of Darwin and emulate a simian. If holding a banana will help draw forth your inner monkey, go for it!

Step#5- Don't spare the baby, if need be tickle till they puke the formula!

Step#6- Take a hit from the oxygen cylinder kept handy (did I skip this step?) since all the shenanigans will invariably leave you forgetting to breathe. If a woman, fall back on Lamaze learnt during birthing classes.

Step#7- If all else fails and desired decibels of laughter aren't elicited from baby, move away and let the baby watch the ceiling fan rotate. Guaranteed to bring forth gummy smiles and the kind that make the tots go boinkers!

Out of the Mouths of Babes....

"The real menace in dealing with a five-year -old is that in no time at all you begin to sound like a five-year-old"

- Jean Kerr

And now imagine that the child in question isn't 5 but a bit over 1 and rapidly gurgling away in his own lingo. That's what Red's father discovered a few nights back...

I was blogging and overhead this conversation between the FIL and the offspring-

They were watching Animal Planet air a program on tigers. In Telugu tigers are called Puli and dogs are called Kukka. My son recognizes other animals well enough when he wants to, but watching them live or moving about on t.v. somehow makes everything a 'kukka' in his eyes.

So he exclaimed, KUKKA! The FIL said no no, PULI and the tug of war between KUKKA and PULI went on for some more time till FIL cried uncle and gave up.

So Kukkas ruled the day and the kid won.

I could've told my FIL that but why ruin the fun?

It's good to see someone else get licked by the human energizer bunny for a change!

Retribution...

“Vengeance is mine, and I will repay.”

Or something to that extent I imagine must have passed by an old chappie's lips when four loud, boisterous kids from his neighborhood would filch his precious stack of clothes pins and make them disappear day after day..

The more he complained to his neighbors (the parents of the brats) the more clips kept disappearing. They'd go off the clothes line and end up in the oddest places, like the water tank. Which after a point of time seemed to verily have more clips lying at the bottom than coins in the Trevi Fountain itself!

Anyhow, he'd rant and rave and often cuss at them, not that they gave a hoot! It was fun to see the crusty old man finally move his potato sack of a body off the swing and lumber after them. Else it was the swing where he sat, day after day and made it squeak,squeak and squeak as if it was his life's purpose.

The brats didn't know that the irritable man who always told on them was actually retired and wanted nothing more to sit on his swing and sip from his stainless steel glass of booze that would remain undetected in that wettest of dry lands. So the sight of children causing a ruckus put a cramp in his guzzling plans indeed!

And if he stayed compliant and ignored them, he would have to face the task of answering his not so little woman who would wonder about the regular disappearance of her clothes pins.

Cut to present day- one of the brats is grown up now. Somewhat. When she finished her laundry today and went to hang up the innumerable little things that her child grows through daily, she found that she wasYET AGAIN short of clipsies..!

How she gnashed her teeth and wished that for once her beloved dumpling would throw something else off the balcony or find other things to confiscate instead of the oh-so important clips...

And while seething and doubling up the clothes (since there weren't enough clips to go around) she thought of a curmudgeon whose clips she and her fine companions would to love to chuck into the water tank or use as marks to get badams off the tree.

And then it came home to her...what goes around definitely comes around. And there was plenty more coming her way...!

The hard and soft of it all..

Right from the time my son was born, I was struck by how delicate he was. I knew babies are vulnerable and helpless but this one seemed to embody those qualities and more.

He was a thin baby, weighing just on this side of an acceptable birth weight but he never lacked spunk.

That 'scrawny' baby's learnt to run now and also balance himself on his toes to reach heights hitherto out of his reach.

One thing that's absolute about children is that you NEVER know what they'll do next. If you think there's a line they haven't crossed yet, they always manage to cross it and then some! So if you threaten your kid with that 'last straw that breaks the camel's back', you'd better be prepared to have a whole herd of camels waiting out there. Your offspring will find plenty more straws and with it plenty of camels' backs too.

I used to think of little children (infant to toddler stage) as being fragile but it's us as parents who're fragile methinks. The kids are resilient and how! They fall, they bleed, they sprout bumps here, there and everywhere and they still keep going even after the tears have left tracks on their face.

And speaking of tracks, while you may not need therapy to get over the minor cuts and nicks on your child; it definitely takes some doing to see your child hurt and you not being able to prevent it. And some things do stay with you. Whether it makes you a better parent or a hovering one is anyone's guess.

And by the time you're over the initial trauma and your monkey is again gallivanting off for newer places to fall down from; you tell them what's sure to become your motto in life- "Don't cry! You wanna cry? I'll give you something to cry about if you dare do something like this (fill in blank with your pet peeves about your kid) ever again!!!"

And you go on. Both of you...sometimes with one chipped tooth, a brief black and blue mark and you with a near-paranoid obsession for stuff your child could hurt yourself on again. But you do go on.

And before you know it, they're onto newer things, more things they could make hurtful for themselves and with you still trying to be their life-long safety net and catch them before they fall. But that's not to be...what is to be their ever-growing curiosity, activity and ability to bounce back each time.

Amen to that! The rest will keep I suppose :)

to meme or may-may?

Call me stupid (seriously, DON'T!) but my understanding and pronunciation of the word "meme" was derived from the the word "me" and that most of them seem to be personal and usually in the 1st person-or so I thought.

While making the offspring's breakfast this morning I happened to talk to Red about doing a meme for the monkey and he burst into gales of laughter and almost pranced about in happiness that he was able to get me on the wrong foot about the definition and pronunciation of a word. I AM a bit particular, I'll admit, about the way words are uttered and it's a source of irritation and amusement amongst my bunch of goofballs.

Anyhoo, Red told me with the right amount of condescension and amusement that the word way pronounced as "may- may" but not stretching out the "a" sound. A short one. And he told me that was NOT about a list of things circulated only about the self but pretty much about anything and anyone.

I love a challenge! Always have! So here we are, logged in and checked up on the meaning and pronunciation of the word. Only to find that it's "meem"! Whoda thunk it?

But as always, I need to have the last word even blogged as it were, and say that at least my mispronounced version was closer to the actual one that his was!

In your face geekboy!!

PS: My meem on my child will spew forth shortly. After I go and find out which other words I've been mispronouncing :) 

A Dreamy Epiphany...or...

I really don't know about other people but my dreams assume different formats. It's almost always audio-visual but sometimes it's so real I can nearly swear I had some tactile experience of sorts. And then some!

This morning I woke up with James Hetfield's voice rumbling about Turning the Page. I had to shake my head twice, vigorously to make him stop the chorus bit.

Now I may need to be medicated, but wasn't last night. I didn't sleep much again and have a head cold and am cantankerous to boot but the song came right at me...almost like a bat out of hell one might say.

I finally stumbled out of bed to find placid and disorganized domesticity scattered all around me. A more discordant image there couldn't be. Or could it?

My BFF1 or as someone once labelled us " emotional Siamese twins"; always believed strongly in Freudy boy's regurgitations on the Unconscious and Repression. And I too believe in them to a large extent, but only because it's happened often enough for me to know that the mind holds onto things with a scary adhesive quality and seldom lets things sieve through. Associations can be sparked within seconds and the even the most tenuous of links can lead to a chain reaction of thoughts, memories and result in a Technicolor explosion up in the ol' noggin.

But I do remember very clearly what I thought of when I first heard the song a while back- it seemed to just build up from a rumble to a full-throaty proclamation of simply turning the page. And what is the act of turning the page but moving onto something new, moving ahead? And a lot of moving on and sifting through clutter is required for periodical renewal of the self methinks.

I suppose our own preferred wiring lets the voice within range from metaphorical abstraction to literally the writing on the wall. Or in this case- Mr. Hetfield. But boy! Whatta way to wake up.
I don't want to repeat this one...but I guess it beats the 3 Tenors doing a jugalbandi and conveying the same message.
 That would've landed me in the nut house for sure!

Salut!

What's up Doc?

It's become evident that few people can go to the doctor for a simple, even non-clinical requirement and come back without feeling like they were modern-day Frankenstein's monsters or something to that extent.

I'd gone to the dentist over the weekend for a simple scaling. A scaling I tell ya, and I met with the most lachrymose-type doc I'd ever met. I was wondering if she'd starting weeping at the sight of my plaqued teeth or not. But Ye Funereal Teeth Cleaner Lady just told me with the right amount of doom in her voice, that I had an overbite and that my teeth were grinding against each other. 

When I asked her how my teeth could grind themselves without any help from me or my jaw, she looked even more melancholy and said my teeth would get shorter, but conversely with my gums receding my teeth would become more exposed (imagine me as all gleaming calcium caps on display peeps!) and in time they (the non-pearlies) would become lose, move (teeth migrated too huh?) and I might have to get them extracted- UNLESSS...

I wore braces!!

So she very glibly told me about her orthodontist friend who again, very conveniently also attends the clinic where I'd gone to. She then mistook my gobsmacked look to mean that I didn't know what an orthodontist was and proceeded to explain.

When I recovered from the experience of being told my mouth and teeth were on the highway to hell (dentally of course) I asked her if wearing braces would curb the problem for sure. Mrs. Dirgeful Mourning 2011 told me that nothing was for certain and that after atleast 1.5 to 2 years of wearing the braces we'd know then. 

I was feeling quite bummed out (mainly by her tone and demeanor and about braces which I've hated since I was a kid) and told her, "I never thought I'd have to wear braces at my age!" She promptly asked for my age and when I told her (you thought I'd mention it here, didn't you? Suckers!!) she told me with a lot of gloomy relish that it could happen to anyone but mine was in the initial stages so I should be happy.

After all that nonsense we finally got the damn teeth clean! Thankfully another doc did it. I wouldn't have opened my mouth for the sad freak ever!!

I kept thinking that I had no disease per se and the Angel of Doom was making such long pronouncements about it in her most sepulchral manner; what if she'd been another kind of doctor and had to tell the patient that something WAS seriously wrong with them? She'd probably have Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique playing in the background to give it the proper doomsday tone!! 

Am I going back to see the orthodontist? No way Jose! If they have a problem with that I got something to tell them- Bite ME!

Meme# I've Lost Count :D

• I love my time alone at home. Well am technically not alone. But in a way I am. Booga Booga Booga!
• I love making up silly songs for my kid. Most of them are recycled tunes but the words are FRESHAA!
• My ideal job would be where someone paid me to read the books that I want.
• I love bean bags.
• There's no food like Chinese food. Even the kind the street vendor sells.
• I always apologize to my kid (when he's asleep) for having yelled at him or spanked his bumbum.
• I am inherently lazy. I act busy to confuse others :)
• If I could, I would travel and read all my life long. 
• I am getting addicted to online shopping. Or for now, online cart-filling.
• I buy bubble wands et al saying it's for my kid, but I'm the one blowing bubbles all day long :)
• I am a bit of a snob for brands but it's under control now. I think. I hope. Erm...not really.
• AND...I am narcissistic enough to go back and re-read this meme even after I post it here and cross-post it on FB and Twitter :)

aww jeez...

I was worried that I'll be fanning my ignorance quite a bit by forgoing the newspapers altogether but a quick glance at them has assured me am not really missing much.

It's not quite so much as news as an announcement of the end being near. Take a look all around- honor killings up, scams are in they heyday, political parties are the jokers with the Indian Government providing the 3 ring circus. What does get the space in the papers are announcements of the Fresh Faces in the city colleges where self-proclaimed celebs go and shake a leg and lecture impressionable young'uns on personality and grooming. While their grooming and personality (or lack thereof) is highly suspect or airbrushed for the print media :)

I sometimes read my papers a day late since my son loves to paper our house and Red always takes off with the Sport pages first thing in the morning. While gathering the papers from last night's yay-ness I came across a news feature of a German porn star who died after her 6th boob job went bust! Literally and please don't excuse the pun. Hmm...that did grab my attention because the girl in question really was just a girl and 23 years old.

Hell at 23 if a person can generate that kind of income, why not live it up? What good would 800 gms boobs (each 800 gms mind you) do to a person except make them more susceptible to gravity a WHOLE lot more? And now she's dead. Fatal beauty anyone?

This isn't a homily on the evils of x,y,z. It's been so long since I read the papers and found something genuinely informative. And felt up to date on the happenings around me.

It's either the verbal skirmishes between the politicos in A.P that make the front page or the Naxals or the scams...and honestly all they make me think of is that people are inept. They do just enough to show that they have Johnsons and then they back off.
I get it, the machinery moves slowly. But for everything? The people who have the most influence and the potential to actually act seem to be mainly posturing and and everything is just for show.

Want to get something done, throw down and the gauntlet and see where that takes you and stand your ground! Things aren't that stable anyhow whether it's in the state or the central government. Or for that matter for most things.

The last few 'newsworthy' things I remember reading about my city and state either involve political fluctuations, political gripes, suicides, dogs mauling infants, slums, citizens grievances against the local governing bodies. And the list bloody keeps going on and on.

And it's the same thing the next day. It's a template of sorts if you will.

Small wonder then that I play escapist and read the comics, smirk at page 3 and get right back to my books.

Cynical but it works. 

Curveballs...

There are times (unfortunately they come around waaay too often) that curveballs get chucked your way.

Whether you've stepped up to plate or intend to play or not, a curveball comes whizzing along.

Now you can either duck or play it but I guess you can only duck so often. It's your best bet to try your hand at it at least once. Strangely enough these curveballs are vested with the genetic make-up of heat seeking missiles and tend to follow you around till they go KABLOOOEY! on your or another target. But a KABOOM's a given!

I know it seems tres cryptic but there are times when vagaries keep rattling in your head and it would take too much effort, history and detail to explain it to another individual. So a mysterious blog post kind of takes the edge of the whirly-gig that's been sent after you.

Or the oddity of the prose here could arise from zip, zero, zilch sleep and not nearly enough of stimulants in my blood on this fine and chilly Saturday morning.

Naah...vagaries are better. Vagaries of madcaps are even better sounding.

But I'll be damned if it doesn't feel good to get this stuff out of my head.

PS: On an entirely unrelated note and in my usual digressing fashion-books will take the cake over their movie counterparts any day. A person's prose and thoughts sometimes ought not to be portrayed over the visual medium...the grizzliness gets diluted. It's better in the recesses of the mind where things fester more under the mortar and pestle of our thoughts...

Here endeth the lesson

The Genesis of Coffee in my life...

Just got to sit down with a cuppa. The FIL and the offspring are watching something Hindi on t.v. I know the t.v.'s on because my son's occasionally clapping during the ads and because he doesn't need me right now :)

Of course with other people around he seldom does need me within sight. Also, the tummy's fed with creamy, apple mush so he's a happy camper.

Oh yes, coffee...I first tasted coffee when my piano teacher made me drink a sip of her burning hot black coffee during a particularly cold winter day. It was after school and it had snowed and my brain and fingers were both numbed. I kept skipping the beat on a piece of music and she got annoyed with me big time! When I told her I couldn't keep my eyes open she handed me her Styrofoam cup and told me to have a sip.

After that I not only kept the beat but picked up the tempo a bit alarmingly :)

I stayed up all night too...! My mother was livid! I was bouncing around too much for her good.

And it was coffee all the way after that. Everyday before going to school. It was the only way I'd have milk. And occasionally when Ma would have her stronger coffee, she'd give me a sip and augmented the taste even further.

During high school I used to need a sip of coffee before my eyes would open during the Rajasthan winters. And the fact that 12th was just around the corner didn't help my sleep cycle either. The more I slept, the farther it seemed.

During college days it was numerous cups of a bad-tempered Chechi's weak-ass coffee that I drank. My best friend would take a look at my face on certain days and straight away march me to the canteen before saying a word to me. At the paying guest accommodation I used to stay in, it was an understood thing between the Aunty and myself that whoever got up first would put the coffee in the filter. Usually we'd reach there at the same time.

Coffee has been a part of the most intense times in my life. Either I or the person/people I was with was chugging it with gusto.

It has been part of lovely mornings where there was no one around except me and the milkwala :)

It has been part of rainy days, evenings, it was one of the 1st things I begged my obstetrician to let me have when I was pregnant!

It was one of the 1st things I craved for once I began to have my usual diets post partum.

I even used to take coffee beans from the CCDs and Baristas I'd go to and keep them in my purse/wallets for the tang to hit me when I next opened it.

I've gone tipsy and barfed my guts out on coffee flavored liqueur as well. So I guess coffee and I have gone the distance :)

Sometimes the blacker and sharper the taste it got, the more it reflected my mood. Other times, the sweeter tasting Viennese, cinnamon lattes also found a place depending on the whimsies I was feeling.

I now find that when I have a break for myself I make a cuppa and just curl up somewhere and first take in the aroma of the coffee before taking a sip.

I guess it's become a part of my everyday...and now for the perfect closing to this blog...

*sips the coffee*