Monday, July 3, 2017

Types of Moms

                   Being a mom is no easy feat. I've always had people tell me "Oh, you're going to be an awesome mom someday."
Did I turn out awesome? Hmm, well maybe not exactly. I mean yes, there are days where I end the day with a feeling of triumph, fist pumping the air and going "Yeah, I killed it today!" 
And there are days where I want to crawl into a cupboard and just stay there and cry all day long while stuffing my face with chocolate biscuits. Motherhood is hardly a consistent affair. So I've listed a few types of mom avatars I have taken upon on a day to day basis.

Scene : Its almost bath time. Your little tyke can sense the danger and is bracing herself. Disaster is just around the corner. She is hovering around everywhere but anywhere within ten feet radius of the bathroom. A gigantic tantrum seems like its on the agenda to avoid the horrendous event.

1. Angry/ impatient/distraught mom
We've all had these days. When you get pushed and pushed and pushed so hard that you just lose it and want to punch a wall. I usually resort to going to the other room and punching the living daylights out of a pillow or my husband. This is also the type of mom I am on the days that I'm going through the wonderful phenomenon called PMS.

"Get into the bathroom. Get in here. GET IN! You get in here RIGHT now! Thats IT! I've had it. You do Not want make me angry. I'm going to count till 5 and if you're not in here by then... then THAT IS IT! "("That's it" usually means I just continue yelling and shouting some more)
The countdown technique doesn't really work with my daughter because she just recently discovered numbers so every time I do that she gets all excited and counts along with me. This angry stage can also be short-lived if she ends up doing something ridiculously adorable and I have to struggle to keep a straight face. But more often, it ends up in tears (mostly mine) and a heavy dose of guilt.

2. Sad/desperate/melodrama mom
This is another common one for me especially during the on sight of PMS. PMS while parenting is just one of Nature's biggest controversies.
"Pleaaaase, baby pleeeease *sob* please for the love of God! Please stop torturing me and come to bath! Pleeeaseeeee! Why are you doing this me! What did I do to deserve this! Why God whyyyyy!!"
Chances are that the toddler involved will usually be lying with her feet in the air singing loudly completely oblivious to your pleading and melodrama. This stage also leads to offering bribes. But again that does not work because toddlers do not understand bribes, I've realized. They just lie on the floor and cry until you bribe them to stop crying. 

3. Goofy/funny mom
Okay, this is me on my good days. I bring out the tickle monster and chase her into the bathroom. Or let her bring literally every single kitchen utensil or household item into the bathroom with her (because bath toys are too mainstream). You could make up a silly bath song. And pretend  the bucket is a bathtub.  And water fights obviously. This one time I got into the shower with her fully clothed. And we did a rain dance. She thought it was hilarious.
Disclaimer :goofy mom can and may turn into impatient mom if said child is not receptive of any of the goofiness.

4. Tricky/sneaky mom
This trick works only once in a while and is a bit mean. Just go stand in the bathroom and look at the floor or ceiling and stare in amazement. Make sure your child can see you. Then exclaim something like "OH MY GOD, did you see that elephant!" Or fairy or dinosaur. Or the entire cast of Friends. Or whatever your kid fancies. My kid usually comes running if I tell her there is an itsy-bitsy spider in the corner and there usually is so I'm technically not being a liar.
Sometimes you don't even need to lie. Just leave the bathroom door open with the lights on and leave the room. Chances are their mischievous minds will start churning and they ll be compelled to go and explore the bathroom on their own. You then sneak up behind them and trap them before they figure out what is happening. Kind of like catching flies, I just realized now. Also make sure you go to them without much delay. I once took a little too long and discovered my little monkey with one foot inside the toilet.

5. Don't give an f mom/cool mom/unhygienic mom
Smell hair. Seems okay. 
Whatever. Bathtime is overrated anyway. 
This is me on more days than I'd like to admit. 

Whichever the kind of mom you are, just know that you are not alone. "We are all a hot mess, some just hide it better than the others."
Happy mom-ing!

Sunday, May 14, 2017

Motherhood and its Life-Altering Properties

                        I just realized that I had zero posts in 2016. Zero! I had such an eventful year and Nothing I wrote. Oh well. I blame it on mommy-hood. And the lack of a laptop. My laptop died an uneventful death the day we brought my newborn home from the hospital and she peed on top of it. And I discovered it almost a month later. Hey there you go, that's motherhood in a nutshell.
I think I have been reluctant to write here because my brain refuses to form sentences about anything else other than my baby and her billion antics and expressions and types of poo. And I know if I start writing about my child, it will turn into a never-ending odyssey. So which is why I've decided to talk about myself in this new post. About being a mom. And motherhood. And how my baby changed my life... Oh okay fine this is technically a post about her only.
They say being a mom completely transforms your life. Yes, it turns you into this lovely maternal being full of softness and sweetness. It also brings out this a stark raving mad weirdo monster. One that you never knew existed within you.

1. Aww babies!
If you're someone who don't have a child yet and love kids, chances are having a kid will change how you feel about them. You probably won't stare at every little baby that crosses your path and go awwwwww. You will end up giving it a dead stare while looking up to meet eyes with its mother. Like one jail inmate looks at another. Silently communicating support. "Hang in there, girl! Only 'n' number of hours till bedtime."
Now when I do gaze upon a lil un', I go "Awww...she's so...Oh My God, her shoes! I need those shoes for my baby. Where did she get those shoes. Shooooooes!" Yes, I have a baby-shoe addiction.

2. Scared? Me?
You have to be the brave one. You're not allowed to be scared anymore. There will be times when a tiny infant will stare right at you without blinking in the dark. And all you can see is their eyes shining.  And it will scare the crap out of you. When my nieces or nephew were little and used to do that, I'd just hand them straight back to my sisters and be like "Okay that's it, I'm done, tata bye-bye" and get the heck out of there. But when the same happened with my own child, I just twisted my head as far as I could away from her face while holding and rocking her in my arms and singing the lullaby I made up called "Please don't kill me, please don't kill me, creepy baby."
And there are times when it isn't even the baby that is scaring you. I remember this one time I was at home and I had watched a scary movie. Okay, it was trailer of a scary movie. I don't voluntarily watch scary movies anymore. So this 2 minute trailer had freaked me out pretty bad. So after tossing and turning in bed for a while, I decided, "Okay, that's its, I'm going to go sleep next to my mom and dad in the other room."  I almost got off the bed before I remembered that there was this tiny baby lying next to me. Who I was supposed to look after and protect and be there for in case she gets afraid. I think that was one moment that had me going "Ohhh so this is what being an adult is like." I got back into bed, grabbed hold of her feet (she was too tiny to hug), squeezed my eyes shut and prayed to every God I know till I drifted off to sleep.

3. Let's talk about my baby!

So like I mentioned before, she is all I talk about. And its not like I don't try to not to. When we speak about other things, my mind is like "Ask about my baby. Stop talking so I can tell you more about my baby. Haha that's funny but not as funny as the time my baby did the most hilarious thing. " Even while chatting with other moms, I'm just waiting for them to send me a picture of their child so I can send the 10 pictures of my baby that I have already shortlisted. And you should see my Facebook timeline. Its like I'm her Social media manager, posting witty anecdotes about her life every other day.

4. Click Click Click
I admit I used to be a bit of a narcissist. I used to take a shit load of selfies. But then who doesn't? A new dress or  a special occasion warranted atleast 10 selfies. When it comes to the baby, an occasion results in 16 billion pictures. A regular day ended with 16 billion pictures.
"Oh the baby smiled." click click click click. The baby burped click click click. The infamous poop face click click click click.  My phone literally rejects any image that does not have her in it now. Right this minute, my phone's camera roll has 1,897 pictures in it. Of which I'm pretty sure atleast 1800 are pictures of her. The rest 97 are probably pictures by her. Of the wall and the ceiling and the bedsheet and the top of her head.

5. Oh Sweet Night!
I've always been a night owl who stays up late at night so staying up with the baby wouldn't pose too much of a problem. Or so I thought. First of all, I used to stay up to watch movies or read or paint or play games. Not to have a tiny human take turns between gnawing at me and screaming bloody murder all night long. Also the decision as to when I should go to sleep used to base solely on when I was starting to feel sleepy. But now the reins of control are with the tiny minion who sometimes likes fooling me by pretending to almost fall asleep to suddenly jolt up and give me a "Haha just kidding, I'm gonna poop again" look. But you know, it gets better. As they grow their sleep pattern gets better and soon they're sleeping through the night. Which means I should be getting a good night of sleep. But me being me, the moment she falls asleep, loud strains of "Haaaallelujah! Haaaaallelujah!" blasts in my head. Its literally a one woman party after that. I can do all the things that I used to do. I can read, paint, shower, watch things on TV that are not two-dimensional, paint my nails, talk to my friends who are awake on the other side of the world, stare at the wall in silence, write this blog like I am right now. I can be young and interesting again.  Only problem is that the baby does not care that mommy has been up all night binge watching nonsense on Youtube and stuffing herself with all the hidden candies.(Ok, I do the other stuff I mentioned too.. sometimes.) She wakes up at a time which is probably a reasonable time for normal folk to wake up. But to me, anything before 11 am are the unholy hours. And the minute she's up, I have to crack open my eyes which then burns like its on fire before I douse my insides with the sweet relief called coffee. Sometimes, I beg, I plead, I even bribe her to stay in bed a little longer. But nothing works for too long. My day begins the minute her day begins. 
I do realize that I will be the worst mom ever once she starts school. Chances are I'll be the one saying 5 more minutes when she tries to wake me up to get ready for school.

6. Nom Nom Nom
I've always enjoyed food and if its something I especially like, then I like to take my time and cherish each bite. But with a toddler around, getting even mouthful in without being interrupted is a rarity. My girl almost always gets the call from nature, the minute I sit down with the plate. Gone are the days that I get to truly enjoy a meal especially at restaurants. Now I eat with both my eyes on her in case she wanders off and eats something off a stranger's plate. Some nights, I put her to bed early and make myself some comfort food- a bowl of noodles and icy lemon juice, and settle down in front of the screen to watch a movie or series. But I always find that I would have finished the noodles and the drink even before the opening credits are done rolling. Its become a force of habit now.

7. New inhabitant of the heart
Your heart will officially have a new owner. The minute the baby is born, you'll have to clear up all the debris that was lying around in your heart and either throw them out or smush them into a tiny little corner so that the baby can take up the biggest part of it. Its a feeling that just cannot be explained. Its love that cannot be put into words. For example, if another significant person sticks a knife in you, you will, of course, get mad. And might even stab them back. Or at the very least punch them, Or be very very mad at them for atleast a year. If your child sticks a knife in you, you will firstly get mad, yell at her, then lecture her, then feel horrible when you see her lower lip quivering, then try to make her laugh again and then give her a hug and then say sorry. Even though you are the one with the bloody knife stuck in you. This is such a common occurrence in my house. Okay, obviously she doesn't stab me with a knife, its mostly just a fork.

There are, of course, other more important changes. Like how you can never watch or read the news again without feeling mentally disturbed. Or scroll past a picture of a missing child without sharing. Or how you will eventually learn to pray. For your child and others too. Or how you will experience anger, sadness and happiness in measures you've never imagined before. Or how baby songs and nursery rhymes will make you want to throw up at some point. Or how you will learn the names and list of nutrients in vegetables you hadn't even heard of before. Or how trying to dry a toddler's hair is (according to her) equivalent to trying to chop off her head. Or how picking up food that your toddler spit out and tossing it into your own mouth so you don't waste it, will not seem gross at all after some point. Or how your room will always Always smell like urine for a very long time.
So many many many many more new experiences and changes. And it never ends. Every day, I learn something new about her or about me. And everyday is an adventure.

Happy Mother's Day to all such adventurers! May the journey be filled with whacky lovely and special memories. 

Friday, March 31, 2017

The Birth Story

               During my 6th or 7th month of pregnancy, I had read a blog where a woman gave a detailed account about her delivery. I felt quite shaken and scared as I went through it. But once I finished reading the entire article, I felt oddly confident. Like - Hey! Maybe.. just maybe I will also be able to go through with this without completely freaking out. The writer did not mince her words, but didn't make it sound grotesque either. She had written it all very matter-of-factly which i quite liked. I made my husband read it too and it made him sweat and shiver. Pfft,  men.

I don't remember the name of her blog anymore but if I do find it, I'll link it over here. Meanwhile, here is my account of my big day. I didn't want to write it since its now been more than 2 years since I delivered. And my theory is that only if the memory of the first birth vanishes completely from my mind will I be able to say to my husband,  "Hey, don't you think its time for another child?"

I remember watching this one episode from the TV show Friends where Rachel is in labour for 2 whole days. And I used to think - Nah! No way! That's just exaggerated. Noone stays in labor for thaaat long. She would've gotten a c-section long back. Well.. I'm no Rachel but let me begin by telling you that I was in labour for 21 hours. I get mighty proud saying it. And try throwing it out there every chance I get. When my husband says "I was on my feet for 5 hours today at office.", I usually respond with "Yeah well, I was in labour for 21 hours," . My poor husband. I don't think I will ever let him forget it. My child will also probably have a poster in her room that says "Your mother who you rolled your eyes at just now was in labour with you for 21 hours. 21 hours of pain. Just for you." 

So anyway,  I didn't have the whole "Oh my God, my water just broke" scene like in the movies. Which was a pity because I had practiced saying it so many times. Although my due date was right around the corner, my body wasn't doing whatever it should have been doing when it nears labour. I'm going to try and put it in metaphoric terms so as to not terrify or gross you people out completely. So let us suppose that there are these inflatable sliding doors inside my body that has to open for the baby to come out.  These doors must first deflate and then open up little by little. And that is when the water breaks. Well, my doors were fully inflated and tightly shut. My doctor said that if nothing happens within the next few days then, they would have to induce labour. I was so disappointed because I really wanted it to happen on its own. I tried everything. I walked, hopped, trotted, climbed up and down stairs. I did squats, cleaned the floors, ate spicy food, drank herbal tea (again that Friends episode was so informative.) but nothing was working. My husband flew down the night before I had my next doctor's appointment. Which made me feel a little less stressed. 
We went to the doctor's in the morning hoping to convince her to give me some more time. But before I even knew what was happening, I was lying on a hospital bed in the labour ward. But what about my sliding doors?! My doctor explained that the plan was that inorder to try and get those sliding doors to deflate, they would literally give it a little push.  She would jimmy a deflated balloon through the doors and fill it up with water forcing the doors to crack open a tiny bit. And thus jump starting the process. And all the while in my head I was going "You're going to WHAT???! Uh-uh. No way. Lets just cut me open right now." But she was convinced that this would be the safest and best option. And since I wanted to birth naturally as well, I gave in. 

The pains began almost as soon as the procedure was completed. Pulsating pain. Almost like contractions. Well, that was quick, I thought. I was already moaning and groaning. Back in my room I found that my 6 year old nephew had been waiting to see me.  He was a sensitive little soul and could never bear to see me in any sort of pain. I smiled through my pain and squeezed his hand kept telling him "I'm okay. I'm okay" without flinching while trying to stay upright. But still I could tell the little fellow was a bit shaken.

 As soon as he left I lay in bed trying to find a position that helped ease the pain. My husband was constantly by my side, holding my hand telling me to squeeze his hand everytime I felt the pain take over. One minute it would be so intense that I can hardly breath and the next minute its gone and I'm chatting with H about something on TV and taking selfies. It was so weird. I was afraid people would think I was faking it for attention.

I was asked to eat dinner early since I wouldn't be allowed to eat anything once I was taken into the labour room. My mom was feeding me chapati and some curry when I was suddenly overcome by a huge wave of pain that I hurled. And along with the vomit, I felt something pop down south and looked down to see that my clothes were soaking wet. I finally got to say "My water broke!"
Except no. It wasn't my water. It was that damned balloon. It had burst. Ugh!
I was taken into the labour ward shortly after that. The labour ward consisted of two lines of beds separated by huge curtains. I was able to hear various levels of crying from behind each curtain. Which was extremely relaxing. Not.
Only my mom was allowed to remain with me in the ward. This was the first time my mom got the opportunity to witness any of her daughters' in labour. And I don't think she's going to want to again.  I get it now being a mom myself. Seeing your kid writhe in pain while knowing that there isn't much you can do to make her feel better is just pure torture. I feel sorry for making her go through that.  But I don't think I could have done it without her.  
Since I had vomited everything, I felt hungry again and begged the nurse to let me eat.  She finally agreed to let my mom bring me some food. And my mom brought me two slices of bread with jam. I looked at her like "Are you seriously kidding me?" I was hungry enough to eat thirty packets of bread. I told her I wanted more.  And that is how I got to eat the first ever meal that my husband made for me.  Those absolutely delicious bread and pineapple jam sandwiches that he made and handed over to my mother. 
After confirming that nothing would be happening that day, the nurses decided to give me a sedative so that I could sleep through the pain and go at it again in the morning. And I tell you, sedatives are freaking awesome. It felt so wonderful and nice. I could tell that the pain was still very much there but I was just too sleepy to care. 
But that blissful slumber did not last as long as I wanted. At the crack of dawn, I was up again and was being poked and probed. The nurses came every 15 minutes to check the baby's heartbeat and to check if I had dilated enough. And i just wanted to tell them to leave me the hell alone. This went on till mid-day. The pain was starting to get severe. At one point I grabbed hold of my mom and said " Okay enough, I don't want to do this anymore. Let's just go home." I was so thirsty but wasn't allowed to drink water so my mom kept wetting my lips with coconut water, like the nurses suggested. My shrieks went from sad and desperate "Amma.. Ma.. Amma..enough, Ma" to furious cries of "AMMA! AMMA! AMMA!", like I was mad at her as though she was responsible for this pain. The doctor asked me if I wanted an epidural, but me having so much stupid faith in my own level of tolerance thought I could endure just a little bit more. So I said no. 15 minutes later, I was like "Hey doc, about that epidural you were talking about. I changed my mind. I'll take two please." But she told me that I was almost at the final lap and that I had a dilated a good amount. The words I'd been waiting to hear for so long.  

Soon the doctor asked me if I wanted to try and start pushing. It was all that I wanted. I pushed with all my might. Everyone in the waiting room heard my shrieks. But now it was more of war cries rather than helpless yelps. I was on a mission. So I continued to push. I pushed while I was being wheeled into the delivery room. I pushed as I hobbled onto the bed. I was so busy pushing that I didn't notice that the room was suddenly filled with an army of male and females nurses. Normally I would've freaked out about having being so exposed in front of so many strangers. But at that point I didn't care if the whole entire population of Kerala was there as long as they got this child out of me. My doctor came in calm as ever. She was even humming a song.  I immediately felt at ease. She told me I was doing very good and to continue pushing. And there is nothing I love more than people complimenting me on my effort. Besides there were so many people around cheering and shouting encouragements at me that I felt so damn motivated. "Come on! You can do it! Very good! Almost there! We can see the head! One more push, come on!" 
I pushed and pushed and....


I froze. My eyes widened and my mouth was open but no sound was coming out. It was a sensation I could never put into words. It was so quick and sudden, I think I was in shock.  In my head, the whole room had fallen to a silence when it was actually probably quite noisy. 
The next thing I heard was my doctor saying-"Pennkutty aane tto - Its a girl!" My face broke into a humongous smile. One of the nurses laughed and said ooh look at that smile! 
I was so surprised because I had somehow made up in my mind that it was going to be a boy because I terribly yearned for a girl. My whole family as well had predicted that I would have a boy for some reason or the other. I wish I could've seen their gob-smacked expressions when they found out.

I looked around to catch a glimpse of my newborn daughter. I didn't have my glasses on so from a distance I saw a blurry, very tiny dark head. The nurses around me continued to poke me and stitch me up or whatever but my whole attention was at that corner of the room. I think I was a bit light-headed from the medications. I said to the guy who was checking my bp "Edo, ende kochine kaanikke. ende kochine endha thaan kaanikaathe." (show me my baby,  why you no show me my baby.) And he said they would in a minute. She was being cleaned up immediately since she had ingested some fluid. 

Now my cousin had advised me that during labour it is best not to cry since it would take up energy unnecessarily. I had screamed, moaned, yelled and groaned but I had managed to get through it without shedding a tear. Until that moment.
I saw the nurse come over to the bed. She held my baby's face close to mine so that I could see her clearly. A tiny round pink face. With two tiny dark eyes and a funny nose and the tiniest little rosebud mouth. With a shock of black hair. The nurse gently pressed my baby's cheek against mine which was wet from my tears. She felt so warm. And so so smooth. I wanted her to stay there like that. 
But they took her away to show to my family. I wanted to stop them. I wanted to look at her some more. I craned my neck to see her until they walked out the door. 
The exhaustion hit me like a wave. I completely conked off and fell into a deep sleep. Like my sister says the best nap ever! 
Once I was moved back into the ward again, I met my baby again. And fell in love all over again. Thats when I really got to take her in. Touch her. Count all her fingers and toes. Smell her. Kiss her. Tear up looking at her again. She bit right into me during the very first feeding and left me bleeding. But i didn't mind very much.  I was too much in awe that she could've sucker punched me all she wants,  I would've just sat there and gawked at her in amazement.
The next best moment was when I was finally released from the labour ward. I was wheeled out and welcomed a crop of smiling faces. My dad who patted my head and looked proud. My poor sleep deprived but happy mom,  my two sisters who were beaming with happiness, my two excited and ecstatic nieces and my very concerned but sullen nephew (He was pissed that it turned out to be Another girl. He forgave me eventually though.)

This moment felt like my glory moment. Like I had gone and done something so great and emerged a hero. Like I had won a long race. And at the finish line were all these smiling faces. In my head they were applauding as well. My husband, who had gone to get some medicines, met me near my room. He came up to me and squeezed my hand. I could see the joy and pride in his eyes. We were parents! We have our own little girl! It felt like a dream. One we never wanted to be awoken from. We looked at each other while smiling like crazy.
And that was it. 
From there began the rest of my life. Life as I know it now. Life as a mother. A fairly okay mother. I think.  Haha, More on my mom-ventures later!  

Thursday, September 24, 2015


Today I said goodbye to my dog, Bolt who we fondly called Bolty. We had to give him away to another family. He spend just four short years with us, but what eventful four years they were.

I still remember the day he came into our lives. He was just a few months old I think, bit large for his age. He scampered about the place sniffing new smells and licking new hands. The kids went nuts over his beautiful black and white fur. I admit, I was a bit weary of touching him. I'd always loved the idea of having a dog, but when it happen for real, I was a bit scared. I'd stood at the doorway and extended my arms as far as it could and stroked his back with a finger. And he responded by wagging his tail. Its one of the nicest feelings, a dog wagging his tail because of you.
Slowly, I got over my fear and soon I was spending every waking hour with him. Brushing his hair, using his special powder on him. One time I even put a bit of my dad's lavender talc powder on him.I loved his big soulful beautiful eyes, the colour of honey. The way he would just stare right back at you when you spoke to him, which I did a lot. My nephew decided to name him Bolt because he was in that phase where he'd binge watch the cartoon Bolt sixteen billion times a day. So Bolt it was. Except, it was only later that we realised that Bolty was'nt a "he". Bolt was actually a female dog. But I'd gotten used to call her a "boy" that I refused to acknowledge the sex change. I hope he didn't end up having gender-issues. 

Bolty grew to love us and soon began bringing us his little "presents". Many a times, we opened the front door in the morning and was greeted by the sight of a dead crow or rat at our doorstep. He managed to get pretty much all our chickens too, much to my mom's dismay. But Bolty did manage to prove his strengths soon enough. One of the times that I was most proud of him was when he spotted a cobra and barked madly right at its face preventing it from coming any closer towards our house. I'd never seen him so brave and ferocious before. His nose could've almost touched the snake. After a while, he stopped and sat right there, his eyes on the snake, growling everytime it hissed back at him. I don't know how long he sat there like that, but we knew this dog knew what he was doing. 

Then one morning, there was no Bolty at our doorstep. My dad hunted all over the place for him. We could hear him howling but couldn't figure out where he was. Turns out he had jumped into the well. And had been swimming around trying to keep himself afloat for hours. It took a few hours and lot of effort, but we found a guy who could go down the well and rescue Bolty. A group of men lowered this guy into the well using a rope and he was trying to jostle Bolty into a huge basket. I remember watching with bated breath and calling out the frightened dog's to reassure him that he'd soon be safe. He got into the basket once but scampered so hard that he fell into the water again. After a bit of a struggle, the dog was back in the basket and the men were pulling him up. I remember wrapping my arms around him the minute his feet hit the ground. He was shivering and could hardly walk straight. After trying to dry him as much as I could, I slowly led to a spot with good sunlight and let him dry off. The rest of the day, we lavished him with eggs and milk and all sorts of goodies, while drying him off with my sister's hairdryer. It took many days to recover from the shock of it all, but soon he was back to running around like crazy and trying to knock me off my feet by jumping onto me. I love that he still remembered.

Pretty soon, Bolty had grown up and had a lot male friends visiting at night. My dad was not pleased, so he'd lock the gates and drive away any stray dog that dared to enter. This one dog would stand at the gate and howl away. It was utterly romantic. And I'm pretty sure that that Romeo had something to do with the litter of puppies Bolty gave birth to a few months later. 
I remember waking up one morning and hearing the news. Bolty was lying in a cozy spot with her tiny little puppies scattered all around her, some on top of each other. I had never seen such tiny puppies up close. Nine of them. Bolty looked tired as ever. There was a look in her eyes, that seemed to say "Please get me the hell out of here." I didn't understand then, why she looked like that, but now as a mother of a child, I totally get it. One human baby suckling away all night and day is Nothing compared to Nine puppies fighting and struggling and crying all together to get their share of their mom's milk. Poor Bolty. She would take any opportunity to leave her kids alone and just laze around for a bit. 
After this my life got into a bit of a whirlwind. Between marriage and moving and pregnancy, I did not really get to spend a lot of time with Bolty. But everytime, I come back home, he'd recognize me and jump around me like crazy. 
Towards the end, the time I got to spend with him reduced even more, having a baby to care for. Bolty too produced a new batch of puppies. And this time, having gone through the experience myself, I was in total awe of him. 
So today morning, when my mom told me that his new owners arrived and took him away, I couldn't believe I didn't get to say goodbye. My dad then told me that they are still waiting for their car at the gate, I dropped everything, took hold of my baby and ran to the gate. And he was there on leash, with a stranger, looking confused and scared. I caressed his head and scratched his ear and rubbed his chin over and over as though trying to make up for the time I'd neglected him. I held onto his face and looked into his eyes and said a silent goodbye as tears started pooling in my eyes. I gave him a final pat on his back and walked away because I couldn't watch him getting into the car and being driven away. I couldn't stop my tears as I walked back into the house. My baby looked at my face curiously. And just like that, Bolty was gone.
The night feels silent now. On most nights, after his random rounds and digging, Bolty used to come and settle down right outside my bedroom window. Some days he'd make an awful racket and I'd get mad at him, but I was still relieved he was there. I had felt safe. And inspite of all the times I'd been too busy to make time for him and been a lousy friend, he still sat there... for me, protecting me. I so love that about him.
I hope his new owners treat him well. And I hope he is happy there. I wonder if he'll miss us. I miss him already.  We'll probably never have a dog again, but then I don't think he can be replaced. I hope someday that my child will get to experience all this with a dog of her own. A dog as wonderful and loyal as my Bolty. 
Thank you, Bolty for letting me experience unconditional love. For making me feel safe and for being my friend. 

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

The P Word

I haven't blogged in the longest time. That is because I won the lottery and so decided to travel the world. I'm writing this from a tree house in South Nambisia. Ok, no that's a lie. I didn't win a lottery. I'm writing this from the foot of my bed, at home. I haven't blogged because I got pregnant and had a baby. Surprise!!!!!! Well for the readers who aren't my friends or family who didn't know about it. That is if I do have readers who are my friends or family.

This is sort of part 1 of my whole pregnancy-baby series. I've run out of people who wants to listen to me go on and on about the whole thing so I'm just going to force you all to read it here.
Pregnancy, for me, was wonderful. I did have a tiny bit of throwing up and bloating and all the icky factors going on. But, for the most of it, it was pretty nice.
Here is a bunch of stuff I liked and didn't like so much about being pregnant.

Food  - I came, I saw, I ate... And then I ate some more. I ate more than I had ever eaten in my whole life. I like to think I maintained a nice balance between healthy and not-so-healthy food. ( H (my Husband) is probably going "Yeah, right!" ). H did try to keep me off junk though as hard as he could. But he wasn't very successful though.
"Are you telling me I can't have a chocolate doughnut? Me, the woman who is carrying life within me, the life of your child, who I have to push out of me. All by myself. One chocolate doughnut?"
It wasn't like I was eating like some sort of unstoppable monster, but this one time we went out with some people and I ended up eating off my plate, H's plate and everyone else's plate.  I don't think they minded though. I had my baby to take the bait for me.
Once when I had finished a pack of Kitkat,
 H says : You finished the whole thing???
Me: No, I gave you two and I ate two."
H : Uhhh, it was a pack of five.
Me: Uhhh, the baby ate one, duh!
Which is technically not true. Baby had two, I just had one.
I stopped watching MasterChef or reading any books or watching any movie that had any association with food, because it literally pained me read about food that I have no access to. I may or may not have cried looking at a picture of a cupcake.

Belly- I loved my belly. My big round belly which was so so big around the end that people would just get uncomfortable looking at me. I loved it. While some people choose to hide it, I loved to flaunt it. Sure, there were somedays where I felt like a big huge whale, especially when I once took a good 5 mins trying to get up from bed, trying to roll myself out.I also got stuck on a swing once and had to wait till somebody could come and pull me out. But on the other days, I felt beautiful. Like I had never felt before. I haven't done a lot of things in my life that are mindblowing and that takes a lot of responsibility. But this, growing a human life inside me was one of the hugest and scariest thing I had taken up. And it made me proud. And it make feel beautiful.
Plus, I love maternity clothes! I don't know why I haven't been wearing them my whole life. Super comfortable and really cute too.

Mood swings - I had some really bad mood swings. My first trimester was filled with paranoia and fear and a lot of bitchiness, especially towards H (Sorry!). The second trimester was more mellow and less like a deranged person. It was more of random bouts of crying and laughing, so basically pretty much like how I used to be before I got pregnant. This one time though, I was showing H this really dumb, not-even-that-funny meme that someone send me, and I just couldn't stop laughing. H laughed along with me for a while and then stopped and just sat there waiting for me to stop. Except I couldn't. I was going on and on that I literally couldn't breath. And that scared me and so I started crying before I had even stopped laughing. Poor H. I don't think he had any idea what was going on but he managed pretty well.

Life within me : There is literally no way to describe how it feels when the baby kicks. Like someone inside you poking their fingers or toes on your insides, so hard that you can see it from the outside. Freaky.As.Shit. I once described it like aliens and said it looked like how it would if you had a snake under your blanket, and then felt really guilty about having compared my baby to aliens and snakes. Its precious, it makes you feel wonderful, it actually is when I felt certain that ok yes, there is definitely a baby inside me, these guys aren't like pulling a prank on me or something. I have so many videos of my tummy moving that I send to my folks until they're like "you really don't have to send us nineteen 20 minute videos of your tummy everyday! we get it!" You're so happy and emotional at each kick.. And then, the baby discovers your bladder. And thinks "ooh look, a trampoline!!" And literally bounces on it so hard that you feel that you'll probably be giving birth to your bladder first. Bladder kicks and backbone kicks are Not fun.

Niceness : I love how everyone is so nice to you when you're pregnant. My dad didn't yell at me even once during the whole nine months. H put up with me and all my nonsense cravings and mood swings and didn't say anything even when I annoyed the hell out of him. I got pampered like hell. I think the only two times a girl really gets pampered by everyone is when she's about to get married and when she's about to pop a baby. Everyone is like oh Don't stand too long, sit, lie down, relax, eat whatever you like, sleep, smile and listen to music. Things that I'm really good at doing!

Whats in a name? : I Hated picking baby names. It was by far the most stressful thing during those months. It is so much easier when you're looking for names for your friends' kids. But when its your own, nothing is good enough. I would absolute love a name one day and then it would make me want to throw up two days later. I must've gone over a thousand names, read through name books and browsed baby name websites. I started paying close attention to the credits that roll out at thr end of movies, scanning for nice names. I made my cousins and nieces and nephew list out the names of all the kids in their classes. I even had a dream once where I have the baby and then we name her a particular name. And for a while we decided on that name because it seemed like a sign, me dreaming about it and all. And then that name made me sick after a while too. I also had a weird habit of typing out a name I like on Facebook search and seeing if the people with that name look like nice people or not. We finally managed to pick one boy name and one girl name, after picking many many chits. And I'd randomly call out those names when I go out for my walks. In my happy voice and my angry voice. We finally ended up naming the baby the first name my husband had ever suggested.

And thats all for the first part of this preggy-baby series. Pregnancy was actually quite nice. I really wouldn't mind being pregnant again if someone else would do the delivering the baby part for me. There was nothing "fun" about that part. But more on that next time!

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Life After Marriage

I started writing this post ages ago. Never got around to finishing it. I figured I better post it now before my life changes all over again and this would seem irrelevant. 

It has been a year and a half since I got married. And I don't think the fact that I'm a wife has still settled in. Though there has been a few random changes in me. Few things that were new or weird to me. Here are the things that are different since I tied the knot.

FAT : For people who thought "This girl is so skinny, when'll she ever get some flesh on her bones", your wait is over. I am officially fat. I know slightly overweight people will look at me and scoff thinking "you call that fat?". But for a person who could still fit into her 6th grade tights at age 27, yes I am fat now. Forget bout 6th grade clothes, I don't even fit into the 100s of clothes I got just before the marriage. At first I thought my clothes were shrinking because of the water or something. Then in a picture, I noticed my upper arm is now the size of both my upper arms together. And I had to throw away 3 pairs of jeans because I couldn't put the button on. These are things I have never ever witnessed before. It was almost scary. All of my sisters' clothes used to be too loose for me. Now I don't even fit into their tiny-miny clothes. I've become a friggin giant! The saddest moment was when my collar bones were no longer visible. They were the favouritest part of my body. And now they've gone, without a warning. All the aunties who kept bugging me to put on more weight are now like "whoaaaa, don't put on any more, okay?" I thought I was the kinda person who'd never get fat. Apparently not. Thankfully, my husband has also joined me in this fat journey. So we don't look weird together.

PET : The only pets I've ever had up until then were dogs. That stayed outside. Who I pet and played and fed on some days. My dad took care of them all the other days. I was completely oblivious to their existence on most days. Until I got married to a crazy animal lover. The first thing he got was a tiny little frog. Which was cute. It hardly ever did anything. Feeding it was fun and I didn't have to do the cleaning. And then we got a tiny little turtle. Which was adorable too. It kept escaping from its container and we'd frantically search for it. We figured the frog and the turtle could be friends. All very cute until the turtle chewed the frog's leg off. After a tearful burial of the frog, we went and got a rabbit. A tiny lil adorable fur ball. Who would climb up our back while we were sleeping and curl up in my arms like a little

baby. Who shit like crazy and peed all over our until then clean room. Who died on the third day, before we could even name him. The rabbit dying was just too much for me to take. No more pets, I said. And then proceeded to get two more rabbits (both which died), another turtle (who died) and finally a snake. Yes, a snake. Wasn't my idea. Don't even ask. And no, I do not touch it. We now live with a cat. And people who know me knows that I'm not exactly a cat-lover. So I'd rather not comment on the cat. Or this whole blog post will end up being about it.

SILENCE : The place where I live now is very very quiet. My in-laws are quiet people and everyone does everything quite quietly. Back in my house, I usually wake up to the sound of a toddler singing at the top of her voice, another one crying out her lungs,the neighbor and his singing class, the mixie in the kitchen whirring, the maids chattering, the t.v blaring, the dog barking madly, my dad yelling at someone or the other and my mom laughing hysterically on the phone. We also have a radio in every room. There are days when I'm back home and I miss the silence. But on most days, the silence here is almost deafening. I find it especially hard to fart or burp loudly because I feel the sound echoes.Although sometimes I feel the silence is soothing.

LIVING WITH A BOY : I grew up in a house full of girls. Even if I go visiting my cousins, I have a total of 38 girl cousins and some 9 or 10 boy cousins. (It took me a while to calculate that) So life for me had been predominantly around girls. Most of my closest friends are also girls. So life with a boy, I figured was going to be really really new for me. Surprisingly though, the boys in this house are a lot like me. In fact, I feel I'm messier and slobbier than them. Boys are surprisingly neat. I'm the one who usually leaves the wet towel on the bed. And the leaving the toilet seat up doesn't really bother me because it makes sense to do that because there are more men in the house. But then again there has been so many instances where I've been surprised by something my husband or his brother does which has had me raising my eyebrows like "Really? You're allowed to do that?"
Boys don't seem to care much about a lotta stuff like girls do. Like they don't go out and buy a new pair of shoes and then find the need to show it everyone in the family and discuss all its wonderfulness. They're very particular about their stuff. If you move their things from the middle of the room into a more reasonable location, they get all mad about it. And its not like you mean to forget where you moved it. I discovered a lot about boys and their underwear habits. Which I'd rather not discuss here and get murdered by my husband.

FOOTBALL, CARS AND BOY MOVIES : I used to watch football even before I got married, but then that was because this game was so much easier to understand than cricket. And also, David Beckham. Now I'm proud to say, I know names of players who aren't David Beckham. I know most of the teams in English Premier League. I know what an English Premier League is. I have watched matches from the beginning to the end without siding with the team who had the cuter players. I have watched a match in a public place around other football enthusiasts and not felt completely out of place. I have also worn a football jersey on many occasions. (Though my husband is always scared I'll spill something on it) And I also somewhat kind of know what offside means too. Its when someone scores a goal and noone shouts and scream excitedly.
I didn't know much about cars at all. When someone once asked what my favorite car is, I googled the most expensive car or something and learnt the name Lamborgini. Now, I can identify some cars. And I get it right most of the time. And I found out that the year makes a difference in the model of the car. And now when I hear Ford, I don't always think of my dad's dear old Ford that he drove us around in for 14 years, I think Mustang. I think of Shelby or Cobra.
I used to be a hard-core fan of chick flicks. I change channels until I see a movie with nice bright lighting and and upbeat background music. My action movie knowledge is limited to Speed and Mission Impossible, maybe. In the past two years, I've watched more action movies to make up
for all the action movies I've missed out on my whole life. And I've found that I loved most of them. I was completely floored by Iron Man. He is absolutely the coolest superhero ever. Sometimes I bargain with my husband and make a deal for one boy movie if he watches one girl movie with me. But it doesn't faze him. He falls asleep sometimes but most of the time he holds his court pretty well. Once I made him watch Pirate Fairy, a Tinkerbell cartoon, as a joke because he made me watch a lot of boy movies in a row. And he got more interested in the cartoon than I did. I thought I'd just make him watch for a few minutes until he begs me to stop it. Instead he made me watch a good half hour and watched the rest of it on his own. My evil plan completely back fired.

LATE NIGHTS OUT : My dad wasn't exactly strict. But he wasn't exactly  the type who'd let us roam about outside after a decent hour. It wasn't really a big deal because I didn't really have anywhere to go either. But after marriage, when my husband suggested we go eat an ice cream at 2 in the morning, I was surprised and beyond excited. I've seen stuff like that in movies and I knew guys from my college who'd tell me about their midnight long drives and junk food rounds. Walking down that road in the silence of the night was one of the most romantic and exciting things ever. My husband was surprised and I'm not sure he understood what it meant to me. What I loved the most was that I felt safe.

So that's some of the changes I've gone through after marriage. There are so many many more, some mention-able and some not. But the fact is that I'm still changing. Everyday. I'm figuring things out as it comes, I'm making new discoveries. And I think that's what marriage is about. I'm not the person I was one and a half years ago. And I'm sure one and a half year from now, I'm going to be even more different. Life never seem to stay the same for too long nowadays. I'll see you guys at the next milestone. :)

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Shame On Me

I know I haven’t posted in a while. (Well, that new year’s resolution sure bombed.) I keep thinking of stuff to post and I’d be like naah that’s no good, noo, that’s too personal, uh noo, that’s too embarrassing. And that’s when I came up with the idea for this post. A bunch of embarrassing things about me. For your enjoyment. And also because I’m hoping to go into hibernation and by the time I’m back everyone would’ve forgotten about this post.

-I cannot tell time
Well, this isn’t entirely true. I can tell time. In a second if it’s a digital watch. After a minute or two or three in an analogue one. I hate when random people come up to me and ask for the time. I wore a digital watch all the way till 12th grade and I think for a while in college too. I don’t know why people still don’t wear them. They are the singlemost amazing inventions ever. I mean a watch with a build in light… and an alarm!! How ultimately cool is that? I hate those watches that don’t even have any numbers in them. Though I own one of them.  K

-I thought anonymous was a person
You know how you sometimes read quotes and in the end its written “By Anonymous”. I always thought Anonymous was the name of a great scholar or poet or something. It does sound an awful lot like one of those kind of names. Like Archimedes or Achilles. Anonymous.

-I have put a lot of crap on my face
I’ve been pimple prone for over 15 years now. And I admit that I’ve put a lot of weird stuff on my face to try and get rid of my ache. Like tomatos or milk. Or chalk powder. Or Chocolate. Vicks Vaporub. Lipstick. Toothpaste. And… ok I’ve also put saliva on my pimples. My own saliva. A girl in my school told me that works. I’m not proud of it. And also it didn’t work. Nothing does. L

-I hate bath time
I have always hated baths. My dad literally drag me and lock me up in the bathroom until I took a bath. I’d just sit there for a while, look at myself in the mirror, splash a lil water on my feet and face, wrap a towel around my head and walk out after 10 minutes. When I went to live in hostel, It got a little complicated because there were a few of these judge-y girls who had nothing better to in life than to sit and figure out if I have had a bath or not Or when if I would ever do my laundry! (Uh, that’s what people go home for, ya idiots). I’d do the same trick I did with my dad. But those girls figured it out. And they actually asked me about it. I was a little embarrassed. But then I got over it. And they got over it. I only ever felt the need to shower when its unbearably hot, if I’ve gotten baby pooped on, If my hair smells funny, If its my birthday, Or somebody’s wedding or my wedding. Or if I’m married. Yes, I take baths everyday like a normal person now. For the sake of my husband atleast.

-The 199 kind of prices work on me
You know how shops price things one number lower than a round number? Like 99 or 199. It never clicks for me that that’s almost like a 100 or 200. I see 99 and I’m like wow only two digits, so cheap!!I guess they invented that system for suckers like me.

-I have tied heavy objects to the ends of my hair to try and straighten it.
I have also tried to iron it with an actual ironbox. But then I guess everyone has at some point.

-People dressed as animals or those huge mascot things scare me a little because I was chased by one when I was little. A round creepy purple thing. And also a clown told me not to pick my nose.

-When people join together and pray loudly, I sorta just move my lips because I don’t know the words to too many prayers. This is a little troublesome especially during my wedding, where we had all these group prayers none of which I knew the words to, and the camera guy kept zooming in on my face when I was trying real hard to lip sync. They helped disclose that little secret of mine to a lotta people with that video.

So that’s all the embarrassing things about me. Or atleast the ones I’m willing to put up on the internet. I have a few more posts on the way, which needs a little bit more tweaking. So don’t write me off already, ok?

If you want you can comment and tell me about a few of your embarrassing secrets so that I don’t look like the only idiot around here. J