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 when 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 on a day-to-day basis.

Scene: It's 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 ten-foot radius of the bathroom. A gigantic tantrum seems like it's 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 onset 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 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!

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. Let's 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 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....

*plunck*

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 secretly 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. That's 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!  

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 the 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 aren't 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 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 to 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 some days 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 makes me 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 sent 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 breathe. 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.

 It's 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 a hundred 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!

What's 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 absolutely 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 the 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 that's 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!

I Like, I Don't

Its time for another pointless post bout things that I like and don’t like. In points. Because I'm to lazy to type out a whole post. :-) Yenjay!

I like it when a sunny day turns cloudy and you actually see it happen. As in you notice the dark shadow cast over all the sunniness, inch by inch. It makes me feel like I sneaked a peek of one of those things Nature does before we notice. Like plants growing or sweat popping outta skin. :-)

I don't like being talked to during a movie. Please refrain from talking to me just for those 3 hours.

I like to listen to that sudden short intake of breath that singers do in between lines of a song. It makes them seem human just like the rest of us.

I don't like it when a pill does not go down your throat but sorta swirls around in your mouth and you end up with the horrible taste of a melted tablet in your mouth.

I like the smell of new things. Like a new book or a new school bag or shoes or a new eraser. Oooh and new clothes. I would purchase the thing that they use to induce that smell. Oh and also the musty smell that’s there as soon as you turn on an air conditioner. Heavenly.

I don't like it when I find ants in my eyebrows.

I like it when I get to do the "What to expect when your expecting Puberty" talk to pre-pubescent girls. I’ve done this only once and I think I scared the wits out of that kid but it was still nice to be older and world-wise

I like laughing out loud at a corny joke on tv or bawling at a sad scene when there is noone around to judge you.

I like masala movies where the hero walks in slow motion and kills all the bad guys with a flick of a finger. I get goosebumps during these scenes no matter how bad the movie is.

I like the first 15 minutes spend with a toddler right after he wakes up from a nap. They’re all dazed and lazy and oh-so-not-hyper. Its a nice relax-y time. And I love their bleary eyes.

I don't like it when people call you up and talk and talk and talk without breathing, without even giving me a tiny little 2 second break so that I can say “right, ok, so I gotta go now.” If you've ever wondered how the line had  magically gone dead when you were explaining to me how exactly your great aunts ended their real estate disputes, well, I don’t know either. :-|

I like it when married couples who probably haven’t held hands since 1985, huddle close together under an umbrella when it rains. With an arm around waist or shoulder, heads together, it somehow reminds you that that they had been young and very much in love once upon a time.

I don't like it when people send you something on chat and then go “oops, wrong box”. I used to do that a lot when I wanted to inform someone of something without actually having to say it to him/her. Or I’d just be trying to make it seem like “I’m talking to a whole lotta other people and I wasn’t sitting here staring at your name on my chat list willing you to send me a message for the past one hour.” Hate that.

I like daisies. I like Meg Ryan because in You’ve Got Mail she says that she likes daisies. Or maybe it’s the other way around.

Kathleen Kelly: I love daisies. 
Joe Fox: You told me. 
Kathleen Kelly: They're so friendly. Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?

Trivia – Meg Ryan’s daughter’s name is Daisy.

I like the way Meg Ryan walks.

I like it when babies touch your face.

I don't like it when they later try to yank open your eye sockets and pull out your eyeballs.

I like all movies that I’ve watched from beginning to end. No matter how bad it is. There is always some portion of it that I can relate to even in the bizzarest way. Or I just feel that I’ve learned something that I would’ve never known until I watched that movie. Be it a funny dialogue, or a thought or a costume or an exotic name or an idea or a psychological disorder or just basic trivia.

I don't like it when you make someone read a book or watch a movie that you absolutely love, but they don’t pay attention to it like their lives depend on it. I mean they’re texting in between the most crucial scenes or skipping the most important chapters. Sure, they probably don’t like it either when I’m yanking their head up so that they're facing the screen or breathing down their neck asking them what line they’re reading now. But still, no respect for the arts.

I like aprons.

I don't like it when you just have to “give in” when you’re winning an argument because the other person is just a “child”. It’s just not bloody fair. 

I like old keys. I love the feel of them. 

I don't like smiling when wearing white because it makes your teeth look so-very-not-white.

I like how everyone is financially equal in Facebook. No matter what pictures you’re posting – of your 3 different cars or scenes from the bus you ride to work everyday.. or from where you send your comments – your shiny new Blackberry or a shady old internet café down the street, you’re all on Facebook. Its literally like you all hang out at the same place. Without having to constantly check how much is left in your wallet. Which is cool.  

I don't like it when someone near me coughs or sneezes. I hold my breath for as long as I can or until I feel that the viruses and bacteria has stopped floating around in the air and has settled. Or I flap the air around me towards them as subtly as I can.

I like the way people’s eyes sparkle in movie theaters.

I like it when someone touches my hair. Or my ears.

I like blood red nail polish.

I like old scars and telling the story about how it got there. I always figured that "If a scar does not last too long on your body then it probably doesn’t have a story that is worth talking about." My very own quote.

I like making up my very own quotes. 

A Furry Tail

It had been a terribly long day. 

At around 10pm, I got back home after helping my cousin with some work. I was tired and was looking forward to going to bed. At the gate, my dog awaited eagerly. I groaned. I mean, I love the lil fellow, but sometimes you just wanna be able to walk into your house upright and not have a 30 kilo over-excited puppy lunge at you. After a lotta puppy pushes, I managed to get into the house (not without a few scratches). 

Inside the house, I see a big fat cat strutting around like he owned the place. He was jumping from pole to pole over our heads and at each jump, I cringed a little. I mean, there is something very icky bout cats. I can't quite figure out what it is. But just looking at a cat makes my mind throw up a little. So while this furry feline tried all sorts of acrobats, I hurried outta the room because the last thing I wanted was for it to fall on my head. 

Later as I watched TV, my eyes kept drifting to the hole that the cat disappeared into. After a bit, I went to the kitchen to heat up some leftover pizza only to see it covered completely by ants. What nerve?! I mean ants would've eaten rotten wood with the same enthusiasm but they had to go and attack my precious pizza!? UGH!

After a bit more TV, I decided to head to bed. I went to my room and caught a glimpse of a shadow crawl under my bed. I frantically jumped on my bed and stood on tiptoes. Upon turning on the light, I saw yet another cat casually stroll out from under my bed. I opened a window so that the cat could find its way out, only to get shocked outta my skin when my dog stuck his head in through the window and barked at a bazillion decibels. Right then, I had just had it with animals! I was sick and tired of cats and dogs and chickens and ants and everything!

I went back to my room still grumbling. The whole room had a musty cat smell. I almost gagged. After spritzing my perfume about a bit, I sat staring at the window through which Cat No.2 had entered my room. I was too scared to reach out and close it because I was sure that a whole bunch of cats were there just waiting to feast on my arms. I managed to doze off after a bit and have a flurry of weird dreams about cats walking all over my bed and turning into vampires and biting my neck. 

Imagine my shock when out of nowhere, I hear a tiny Meowww! My eyes shot open and I looked around hurriedly. I checked under the bed. Nothing there either. It wasn't coming from outside either. Then finally, under a chair lay a cloth that had fallen there a few days ago that I kept meaning to put back in the cupboard. 

Inside it lay a tiny little fur ball. It couldn't have been hardly a day old. For a minute I wasn't sure if it was a cat or a mouse. It was literally that tiny. Then, I freaked. I felt like a mom who wasn't ready to become a mom but suddenly had a lil baby fall outta her all of a sudden. It was around 3 in the morning. I had no access to the internet right then or else I would've Googled the shit outta kitty-caring techniques. So instead, I called up a friend who I figured would be awake enough to shell out some advice. After 10 minutes of the world's most useless and pointless conversation, I was on all four staring at her. I had never seen a new born cat before. I got a little wistful because I swear she looked exactly like my niece did when she was born. The same long eyes and pink nose. Check out the pictures and you tell me if you don't see a similarity.

I wanted to touch her but just couldn't make myself do it. I put one finger on top of her head though. She stirred and I had a mini-heart attack. She started shivering a little. So I folded up a kurtha and laid it gently on top of her. I don't know why I figured its a she. Maybe because when she started crying, she wasn't meowing, she was literally crying. Like human babies do. A little whiny cry.

 I pulled at the cloth she was lying on to make sure there was just one. I always thought cats gave birth to like a dozen at once. I pushed the cloth down under my bed so that it would be warmer there. Then I grabbed my camera and took a coupla quick pictures. I wrote a note to my dad so that my dad doesn't accidently step on her or something the next morning. Wrote 'There's a kitten under my bed. What to do with it? Please don't kill it.'

Turned off the light and went to bed with names for the kitten whirling around in my head. Few minutes later, I hear someone clawing at my window. I shoot outta bed, grabbed a pillow, headed for my parents' bedroom and slept there. 

Next morning, I woke up to see her dragging herself around under the bed, crying for dear life. She couldn't even walk. And she kept falling over too. I had a quite a lotta aww moments in that 10 minutes. She did that eerie human cry again. 

I found the tiniest bowl I could and poured in some milk. I pushed the bowl under her nose. She toppled over and fell face-first into the bowl of milk. Oh crap, I've drowned it. But she lifted her head again, looked a bit confused, licked her mouth and then pretended to gag. And dragged herself away from the bowl. Well, excuse me for not being a gourmet milk chef. 

She kept crying so I stuck some old cloth into a box and sorta rolled the lil fur-ball into the box with a book.(I still wasn't too keen on touching it) She jumped outta there once. Swooping her up again, I placed her back into the box and while holding the box at an arm's distance, carried it to the staircases. I placed it at the foot of the stairs. 

I look up to see the mom-cat looking down at us. I point to the baby and quietly leave. I hide behind a door and peep to see the big reunion. I was hoping it'd be completely Karan Joharish style. I wait and wait and the stupid mom cat still wouldn't budge. I badly had to pee as well. (I still hadn't brushed my teeth or anything. Straight outta the bed and into this melodrama). 

Finally, I got tired of waiting and moved the box a few steps up, hoping that the little fella won't attempt to plunge into an early death now. Went to the bathroom. By the time, I was back after 15 minutes, both mom and daughter were gone. They're probably in my room upstairs cos when I went there later that day, it smelt of that same old musty cat smell. 

This is by far the most exciting thing that happen to me this year. Don't judge me, ok. Exciting-er things have happened to me. I'm keeping a low profile this year. Anyway, this incident made me feel like I'm living out an Enid Blyton story. Sure, it wasn't a goblin or pixie or talking doll or anything that I found under the bed. But there I was, grumbling about all the animals in the world and *Pling* this adorable little creature happens. There isn't an exciting or surprising ending to this story. Just that the lil kitten got to have a super awesome human-mom for a day. Who tried to drown her in milk. Umm...shhh! ;-)

Baby Blues

I have the baby blues. As in I really think I need to have a baby. Right now would be a very good time for me to have a baby. I mean sure, I'm not married yet. I'm not even sure if I'm at the legal age to have babies. There is one, rite? Legal age for baby production? Anyway, why I said that this is a good time is cos I've been around babies for so long that nowadays when I watch ads with lil babies in em, I get this whole maternal thingy stirring inside. I'm all like awwwwwwwwww..not the normal regular aw cute...this is the drawn out, longing, wistful awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww *sigh*. Sometimes I even tear up. Now this can't be a good thing. And it just means that I need to have a kid. I'm not ready for marriage sure...but kids, i think i can handle it.

Some people have this calling. And all this while I was confused bout what mine is. Now I'm thinking, its most defnitely gotta be sumthin to do with kids. Cos, man I'm seriously good with em. I mean, I used to like kids ok. The regular amount. I even used to tell some people that I dunt like kids cos I didnt wana seem like the girly girl coochie coo baby luver (I'm not. I dunt go all "coochie coo" shit.. I'm all like Sup Baybeh!) I've been babysitting ever since I was 13 or so. Its just recently that people has been tellin me Im sooo good with babies. And thats when I realise I shud test these super powers of mine. Every new baby is a challenge. People think its easy to win over a baby. Trust me, its no easier than winning over a pretty girl. (but yeah its almost as easy as getting a guy to think ur interested)

So nowadays, every baby I see, its like I just haave to make em like me. I'm like the baby playa. But i don't play with their feelings and not call them after I say I will. Or atleast I try not to do dat. Once, I'm pretty sure where I stand with my baby skills, maybe I'll think of doing something with it.

When I paint or draw or read n stuff, sure it makes me happy. But when I'm with a baby, and that first smile it flashes at you as a sign of "ok-ur-in", man...that smile can just turn your heart into pulp. Thats like a whole different level of happy.

When people think bout babies, the only thing they talk bout it dirty diapers...and sleepless nights. I mean c'mon..there is soo much more to babies than that. People who has never really dealt with babies won't really know this cos they rely on 2ndory info and hear just bout the 6 kilo diapers and 6am feeding time. They don't hear bout the smile that I told u bout earlier, or the warmth u feel inside n out when they fall asleep on ur chest, or the pride you feel when they choose to run into ur arms when they're scared, or bout how hard you laughed wen they make that funny face wen they poop, or how you heart breaks when their smiles crumble into tears when you wave goodbye......

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Okay so i got a lil too senti there... I told u, the whole maternal thingy is getting to me.

So, basically what I'm tryin to say is...well I'm not sure. I just wana dedicate this post to my niece n nephew...my number one babies...miss u guys soo soo much. Now I actually get what Saif Ali Khan was talkin bout in that ad when he said "I miss u so much..it hurts!"

oh and mwah mwah to all the other lil babies out there... Sup Baybehz!