The Not-So-Wonder Years

Raising a preteen is a very strange experience. I know I've written a little bit about what it is like being a mom of a toddler. And I am gearing up for the dreaded teenager years to hit. But man, this in-between phase.. the confusing, unpredictable, whiplash stage.. I honestly have no idea how to navigate through this phase.

The style identity crisis

She got accustomed to wearing bandanas a few years ago. And somewhere along the way, they pretty much got fused to her scalp. Possibly with mold growing underneath. I thought it was cute initially but now I would give anything to get her to stop wearing that mini pillowcase on her head every single breathing minute. 

Sometimes when she's asleep, I push it slightly off her head, just wanting to caress her hair. She somehow senses it every time, wakes up immediately with a grunt. "What's your problem" her tone accusatory and yanks it over her again. It's a phase, it's a phase, I keep muttering under my breath, counting down days until this phase ends. It's been 3 years now, but no, I'm still choosing to believe that it's a phase. 

As for the rest of her clothes, that's just a fresh new subject for us to get into screaming matches. It's always extremes with her. She will literally wear the same damn clothes 7 days of the week. And it's always the most faded, mankiest ones. I may have, on occasion, hidden certain items of clothing and prayed she’d forget they existed.

On the other hand, there are certain clothes that she begsssss me to buy, saying she will absolutely die if she doesn't have it. 

There was this one particular green top that she tried on at the store. She loved it, but it was too expensive so we left without buying it. She pondered over it for hours later and then begged me to go back to the store, promised eternal devotion to the top, said she'd wear it every minute of every day. Finally, I gave in and went back and bought it declaring it an her early birthday gift.

We bought it and came home, she tried it on and immediately decided that she hates it. Because it isn't giving the right "vibes." Somewhere between the trial room and our house, the vibes packed up and left apparently. 

And every time I suggest, "Why don't you wear that new top we bought?", she looks at me like I asked her to wear something that fell inside a septic tank. 

Then there was this other top she bought when she was obsessed with Wednesday, wore it once and then swore never to wear it again because everyone at the mall "looked at her" when she wore it. Apparently, they didn't get the memo. 

Let's not even talk about training bras, because I swear I will cry.  

Music that I don't understand 

She came home from school one day saying that she had something to show me. Oh, a test paper? Some new drawing? She handed me a notebook filled with rows and rows of… gibberish. “It’s every K-pop song I know. I listed 100. Are you proud of me?” she asks, looking at me smilingly. I'm was like... ...uhhh sure? 

Okay, to be honest, I have made worse lists when I was a teen. I once catalougued every single on-screen boy that I found cute. Even the vaguest ones, like the third guy from the right in the background of some random music video, or that cute boy in a movie I caught 10 minutes of on TV five months ago. But of course, I never handed this list over to my parents, asking if they were proud of me.

She’s currently obsessed with a K-pop group, so I bought her every single piece of merch I could find on Amazon for her birthday. I even learnt the lyrics of one of their songs so that I could sing along with her (even though I somehome keep losing my "aura points" when I do). I'm pretty sure she’s getting bored with them. My walls are now covered with pictures of scantily clad K-pop icons, which makes the cleaning chechi and ammayimaar who visit look at me rather judgmentally.

No touch zone 

One of my favourite parts of the day used to be holding her hand and walking to the bus stop every morning. But now, she yanks her hand away the minute I even touch it. Maybe it's a prestige issue, I figured. Maybe she doesn't like people seeing her mom holding her hand. But nope, even when we're just chilling in our room and I try to give her a hug. I thought getting a toddler to put on a onesie was the biggest struggle; getting a teenager to give you a hug is worse. No touching, no hugging. 

When we place bets sometimes, my reward in case I win is usually a 30-second hug, which she times, of course. Night-time hugs were still routine until recently. I admit, I may have tried to spook her with scary stories a few times just so that she'll get scared and hug me. Sometimes it's almost like she's a cool guy that I have a crush on. Because once in a while she unknowingly holds my hand. And I have to try my best to keep my cool and not gush like, "Okay, be cool, be cool. Don't put pressure; she'll notice, be nonchalant."

That said, there are still occasions where she comes and hugs me and cries over a bad day or a fight with her friends. Not immediately. But it happens if you give it enough time. And I know how awful it sounds that when she'd be crying her heart out, clinging onto me, for a while I'll be trying so hard not to smile, going "Omg, it's happeningggggg, yayyyy" in my mind. 

Raging hormones 

I cannot for the life of me figure out what she is going to be offended by. Sometimes I find her trying different hairstyles, and say, " Aw, you look really nice", she will immmmediately grunt and take it all off. Don't even dare using the c word (cute), she will look at you like you used some other c word.  I have to use all my restraint to stop myself from complimenting her.

But now that I've learnt to just nod dismissively when she asks me how she looks... she gets bugged by that too! Like, where is the line! How much is too much? Where is the frickin handbook!?

And sometimes she gets soooo dramatic about the smallest stuff. She's really really touchy about the subject of boys. I once showed her a dumb reel about a boy who was obsessed with saying 67 and said "Haha, look he's just like you, perfect for you." She stopped smiling and looked at me like I betrayed the entire nation. Her eyes filled up and she grunted at me angrily "How could you? What's wrong with you. Ugh, just don't, okay?" And I'm here just flabbergasted like what did I do?

Non-stop friends drama 

I've waited forever for her to have her own group of friends. Her girl gang. And she finally did form one this year. But what I did not anticipate was the drama. One day everything is all hunky dory and they're on the phone all the time calling each other "bro" 6 million times, the next day she comes home, solemnly announcing that "It's over, it's the ultimate friendship break-up." Sometimes it's over something mean someone said, sometimes it's betrayal of trust and sometimes they just didn't play what the other person wanted to play... the reasons range. And I listen to it all. 

Sometimes I get so heated up, and I want to be like "Screw this shit, Akshaya is just being a lil bitch..this is what you should do.. " but I don't, it's very hard for me not to but I keep my mouth shut. This is not my battle. But I do make up fake scenarios like "Oh this very same thing happened to me and this is what I did, but you can do what you want, it's cool. But, you know.. this is what I did. Just fyi." 

And sometimes I don't even agree with her. As someone who struggled to make and keep friends growing up, the way she just casually disposes of them over the smallest things stresses me out. You're just going to stop talking to them? But but but what about all the history? The memories? The good stuff? But she's so nonchalant like "meh I'm over it." She is going to survive heartbreaks far better than I ever did.

 

Most of the days are tough but truthfully, watching her become her own person is equal parts terrifying and kinda awe-inspiring.

And we're only at the pre-teen phase. As someone who adored the toddler stage, who knew the rules then, coming to terms with living with this fascinating, sometimes hostile yet deeply lovable alien who used to be my baby... it's no easy task.

Sometimes I lie awake fretting over what is to come - teenhood, periods, boys, pimples, more drama. The other day, she said something very harsh and I couldn't take it. I cried over it at night (what, I can be hormonal too) and about the fact that I'm never going to get back that sweet little child I once had. I cried over how fast she had grown up and how I hadn't even gotten a chance to mentally prepare for this.. this new person who has taken the place of my sweet child who used to find my jokes funny.  It was like grieving the little girl I once knew while trying my hardest to be loved by the new version. She's all grown up... and I'm not ready for it.

A few days later, she calls me from the other room. Urgently. As usual, I panic. Shit, it's periods. My heart starts to pain as usual. I find her standing near the sink, holding out her closed palm towards me. And inside it was a tooth. A baby tooth! Oh sweet lord, I had forgotten she hadn't lost all of her baby teeth yet. I took the tooth in my hand, smiling from ear to ear. Relief flooded over me. A baby tooth. She's still a little girl! She hasn't crossed over yet. I still have time! I held onto the tooth like a lifeline, being super dramatic while she looked me like I had completely lost my mind. 

She no longer believes in the tooth fairy ever since she discovered my collection of her teeth that I had saved in a tic-tac dabba (what, it's a perfectly normal thing, ok). Yet, I asked her, "Do you want to leave it for the tooth fairy?" She rolled her eyes and groaned. Then a minute later, she stuck the tooth under her pillow, turned to me and said "So, I want the toothfairy to bring me 500 bucks, okay?"

I pretend not to hear that. 

Still a baby. She's still a baby. Still a baby.

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!  

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......

...

.....

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!