I miss you Ma.

and I never told you this and I needn’t tell you this ever because you already know this.

She is a Super-Woman or an analogy closer home – The Durga Mata. I guess every mother is, mine isn’t any different.

And it hugely annoys me that she can’t leave that stupid home of hers and come live with me for an infinite time. That she is not here with me when I come back to home with a refreshing glass of Nimbo Pani/cold drink on hot days. Or listen to how my day had been. Or waiting to have a meal with all of us. That she isn’t here to mend my dress or fix my cold. Just like she was during my school days.

I left home when I was 17 or 18esh.. for further studies. Meh! And then I never went back. I completed my studies, met my husband, got married, visited home once or twice a year. And that’s how it has been since.¬†

So literally, I have been missing her since I was 17.

I tell my husband, I was just bored with living out of the hostel, being a paying-guest, being with room-mates, the nomadic life of living away from home, that I agreed to marry him. I needed a home of my own. If I had been living with my Ma, my story would probably have been different. His reply “kidnap kar leta tujhko ūüėČ

That is utterly romantic ‚̧ . So I know I was destined to marry him, to have a life that I have now.¬†I married the right guy.

But that doesn’t stop me from imagining.

I imagine a different course of my existence. One where I never left home, where am married closer home, where am with them for every festival, every small occasion, every birthday and anniversary. Where I don’t have to plan my vacation months in advance, book flight tickets. I imagine just booking a cab/ or driving to her home. I imagine picking up my bag and heading home, I imagine exchanging Meklahe Sadar with her, gossiping, cooking meals together.

None of which I can ever do in this lifetime.

All of which my sister is lucky to get with her. Damn!

Why don’t I?¬† I remember a conversation I had with Pa when he said, why can’t I do all that and more? Why can’t I just pick up my bag, book a flight and come home? Isn’t that the reason why I left home in the first place? So I could be independent and follow what I really desire.

Am blabbing. No one will probably get this. I don’t get this. Why can’t I do that? Why am I pissed on the days that remind me of her? (Am pretty sure this is as my sis is visiting her for a month long vacation and am sweating out here).

Everyone leaves home for a better life. I have a better life. Am not the first person to do so. I have no reason for not just booking up the flight and reaching Ma. I don’t know why can’t I manage that now?

Today is Mother’s day and am surrounded by the content this day has generated on every feed, every chat, every social media. Do we need a special day for Mother?

No, A Mother is special every-day.

Yes, because I never told her how awesome she has been, how much she had worked all her prime and how much she needs to think about herself now.

Even so, I don’t want her to think of herself. I want her to be my side. Living in the same city that I am. Not this far.

Now,¬†We¬†They have a wonderful house at Assam. It is my parent’s blood and sweat. Their dream home and they moved into that place after my father’s retirement, which was much later after my wedding.

I live so far from her, that I no more dump my sob story on her, I feel a bit protective of her. Shielding her from my downs. I guess living on my own since 17 has made me as independent as my parents wanted.

Now that am a mother, I know I will always be there for my son. I don’t believe in long distance love ūüėČ he will have a hard time moving away from my nest.

But then he is a boy. A girl pines for her parent and a boy, well just don’t care. Sorry Boys ūüėȬ†¬†

I called Ma today and she was utterly busy with my sister and her twins. She was worried about my brother and she was going to cook dinner, fixing yard with Pa as a storm is approaching.

Day as usual for her.

Happy Mother’s Day Ma. I miss you.

Here is a Mother’s Day special from my 6-year-old boy. Aah.. he will never know the joy of leaving home. Literally ūüėČ

Son: “Ma, What does comes first..the wedding or the kid?”

And my toughened Indian middle-class upbringing screams:
“Wedding son, definitely wedding! “

#HappyMothersDay

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Me: Adi, Don’t talk on the table. Nadi ho jao (Quite like a river)

He is my insane little chatterer and sometimes I wanna cap it! Just shut up boy!

Adi : Okay.

Quack, Quack, Quack, Quack!

Me: What now?

Adi : Mummy river has ducks!
And I give up!

Am still his favourite, despite everything.

Am a strict mother these days. Most days, am not. Meeting the supply with the demand. My son has his first first-grade school assessment coming up next week tomorrow. Maths. English, English dictation and Environment Science. But he is not showing any interest in preparing himself to be assessed. I really envy mother who has THE kid, natural in studies. (Are you reading this neighbour?)

On most of the days, I have no patience with a first-grade kid. I do not sit with him for his school work. That is the only job for my better half. He is a master. I do feel, Husband is disposable when he is around the house.¬† But clearly, I need him when there is an assessment next week… Get your butt here soon!¬† Puff! But he isn’t here this week.

So there I was, on the last weekend. Sitting along with my son, with practice sheets and prayers to God “Please give me the strength to make it alive till the end of this¬†hour¬†these 10 minutes and not strangle him.” Every 10 minutes, I remind myself. He is my only son. Be a saint, DO NOT kill.¬†

He clearly wants to escape.¬† Actually me too. Both of us. But Life is cruel. Doesn’t give us what we want. I hope he understood that last weekend.

Do not judge me. Before you imagine me as a  fat-rat matron holding a stick, wearing a printed knee-length frock and thick-framed black spectacles conducting a reign of terror, try spending 10 minutes with a boy who is more interested in super-hero than vowels of English.

10 minutes. Only. With a six-year-old who imagines wand in a pencil, the erasure as a transformer disguised and living among us in plain sight, who have to pee because I asked him the spelling of piled.  What?! pencil is to write notes? I thought it is a magic wand with the black core from kryptonite!

Don’t blame him though.¬† English is a weird language.

For instance,¬† Why the hell Silent letter? Silent K in Knew.¬† And wait, this gets better on the Island. There! A letter, an alphabet sitting right there, not making any sound. Just being there. Silently. The same S when added to “ex” becomes one hot cake bun.¬† Or , Don’t get me even started about Queue. That is just one letter Q. What are the others doing there? Did the person doze off with one hand on u, other on e?

So now I have to know why K is silent in Knew but not Clock.

Me: “Listen to the sound Adi, K, clock ends with K.”

Son: But Mummy ..K is silent. 

Oh Boy! Not in every word honey. That will be like a totally deaf alphabet. No sound.

Imagine how many zillions of space, wordpress would have saved, if it weren’t for these notorious silent letters. They exist but only in bytes. Taking up space but producing no sound.

That was English. Maths seems like a good boy. I mean, the subject is all logical, Right? Wrong. What the hell number-names doing here….legacy of English gf?. I mean who writes forty, repeat. forty and not 40 these days?

Meh! On the cheque lady? Hmm. Okay. But still. All the number names, just teach so he can write me a thousand dollar cheque every month. I only need that much. Teach him that. Did you notice the silent “ue” in there, with that condescending mind..won’t make a noise, these aren’t worth our talk.

So that was my Sunday.

At the end of the day, It was time for bed. The teacher was out of my system and mother was in, the guilty mother who punished her child and raised voice a bit longer than desired. He was almost asleep. Eyes closed and heavy breathing.

I said ” Adi, Maine aaj aap pe bahut gussa hui na ? Was I too angry at you today?”

Barely had these words left me and could reach my son sleeping next, I heard him reply. Yes. I signed. This is gonna be tough. All I wanted to tell him how much I love him and how important is reading, writing and learning and other parenting stuff.. yada yada yada blablabla.

Me: “But, You know that I love you no bounds. Right?”

No answer.

Who is my favourite boy in the whole world?

He raised his head enough to show me his smile: Me!

Him again barely 2 secs later.Or may be less than a sec: And you are my favourite person Mummy!

‚̧¬†¬†

My heart just melted. And I relaxed. probably the first time on that hard day.

The best part of being Ma is the love I get from my little man, No matter, how much I keep him away from his playtime and his super-hero, in the end, am forgiven and loved again.¬†Any adult would have labelled me lunatic for life, but for my son, Am still his favourite ‚̧

 

 

 

Dinner conversation with son

Son : Am the King…

Me : Aha.. So who is your Queen… (Son looks lost ) She could be any girl whom you like the most..like your favorite. Could be from your school, day care or our apartment..

Son : Okay…I choose you to be my queen.

Me : Naaah.. She has to be your age…like how your Papa and I could be King and Queen. Tell me who is your favorite girl…

Son : Okay..Aarna… She can be my queen.

Thinks for a while..

No..Arey..You be my Queen. What would Aarna know about being Queen? Am the King and you are my favourite girl.

Me : I love this little King.

I hope he never grows up and am always his favourite person. ūüíó

Happy Ramzan…

Happy Ramzan.

We are introducing my almost 5-year-old son to the holy month of Ramzan this year. He knows other festivals of India – won’t stop saying “Ganapati bappa moria” much to my embarrassment¬†in front of my Muslim¬†in-laws.He knows that Diwali is the time for diya, rangoli¬†and crackers and Holi is all about colors and water.

He can even recognize Santa Claus¬†and won’t stop singing Jingle bell, jingle bell – again to my embarrassment. By the way,¬†I don’t know why am embarrassed. my in-laws¬†are lovely people.¬†

So we told him that this is the holiest month and he has to be a good boy. Sharing, caring and helping others.I write down all his good deeds in a diary daily and will show it to the Almighty Allah at the end of the month on Eid. If he finishes his meal, that counts too.

And in return, Allah will give him a gift on Eid. A big wonderful gift. A super-cool gift. It could be a supercar or a giant dinosaur. It could even be the spiderman figurine. How wonderful is that?

And the same goes for all of us. We get a nice gift if we behave well.

So this is how it goes at my home now…

“Mummy, what if Allah sleeps before I finish my meal, he wouldn’t¬†know?” Allah, if you are listening, Aadil usual dinner time is 8-9 PM. Please do not sleep before 9. Nevertheless, I have the diary.

“What if Allah runs out of the gift and none is left for me ?” OMG! That would be scandalous..for all the pain the boy has taken in the month.¬†

“Mummy, You are shouting – you will not get any¬†gift.” ¬†Allah- You are all knowing and wise, you made me shout/scream… I did not. I deserve the gift.

“Papa, you are not playing with me – you will not get any¬†gift.”¬†Yes (raised fist) That will serve him right Allah, no gift for him.

All in all, am happy with the way Ramzan is going and I can’t wait to see the big smile on his face on the day of Eid when he gets his present (from Allah.)

Happy Ramzan everyone! I hope you may all celebrate this holy month by sharing, caring, and helping.

4 years 4 month
This was the pic taken when he turned 4 years, 4 month and 4 days, when we celebrated his Bismillah ceremony. I was so nervous that he is not gonna repeat the verses read out to him, but he did! Without any fuss, he sat through it and made be really proud that day.

A compliment is a compliment

..no matter who, how, when and what the exact words are…

Son never ever wants his father to wash his bum after potty. Yes, wash bum, we Indians, I have to say proudly, wash our bum with water after the poo. Wiping is not our way. A wipe will never do for us. Nope sir, no, nahi, Wipe? I mean, I cannot fathom how does that is called a clean bum.

Nevermind, don’t tell me.

How is all this related to a compliment?

Patience is a virtue and am getting there. Read on. I have a feeble mind, get’s high with just any good words coming my way.

Son always wants me during his potty time. It’s a sort of compliment for a mother but not for this post.

Yesterday, as usual, he was busy prattling when sitting on the commode, I asked why he won’t let his papa wash his bum, why only me?

Because, mummy, you are thin and slim like my POTTY. 

And, here comes the blush!

Wait, he compared me to potty? Ewwwww! Yuk!

Hey, wait, he said – thin and slim. Lemme highlight that – thin and slim.

That’s my boy! I can wash his bum forever, and ever, and ever.

 

Yes son , you are so yummy , I ate you!

 

14th August,2012

I saw him first , 4 years ago. My first feeling ¬†“Why is he so tiny? Doc said he will be above 3 kilos. Look at his nose , his eyes , he looks like my papa!” and I was hooked.

Ever since then, I haven’t stopped loving him , falling head over heels with this little man every single day. The kind of love I have for him , actually surprise me. That am capable of loving someone so much. And the best part is¬†I get love in return,so much more than I could imagine. The little man loves me , adores me , lights me up with his voice. He does everything right , at least to me. Believe it or not , a mother¬†can feel , actually literally feel her child’s physical pain. I did for , possibly first two years. And stopped only after he started faking his pain to¬†mess with me , or to get attention ,or just to be naughty.

Every year , I tell myself “Oh this is the best phase, I wish he would never grow out of this (phase). ” And he amazes me with his next milestone.

Yesterday, a day before he turned 4 , he finished his rice plate himself, on his own . The waiter at biryani house gave him a plate ,a little spoon and he started eating himself. Before I could help , which I do usually, my husband shushed me and I watched him use a spoon and eat rice-biryani , from the corner of my eyes , heart thumping in excitement (I swear these motherly hormones behave crazily stupid someday , what is so exciting ? he is only eating rice with spoon???!) . Well , that was just once but it is a start.

We celebrated his 4th birthday today ,on 14th Aug , aka the day I meant to publish this post. Happy Birthday, Son <3. I will always love you. I cannot help , but love you all my life.

His take on turning 4 ” So am I as big as papa now?

So , now to come back to the title of this post. 

Me: Happy Birthday Adi , wow you are a big 4-year old now!

Adi : Why ?

Really ?! “why” that is the response..? The perpetual stream of “Why” ¬†from kid these days!.¬†

Me : Because , 4 years ago, you were born from my tummy son.

Adi :  Kyoun ? Aap mujhe kha gaye the kya mummy? Mummy , Did you eat me up ?

Ahem , ahem, So how he ended up in my tummy at first place! Good question.

Me (Hugging him tightly) : Yes , You are very very yummy Adi , so I ate you ūüôā , And now am gonna eat you again ……..

2016-08-16 12.57.54
He refuses to pose for the camera ¬†, this pic was taken a few months ago and the best one I have. Believe it or not , he is the love of my life and I don’t¬†even have a proper pic to share.

My son is smart , and am …

Scene: Adi , My 3.10-year-old boy playing with cars.

Trying to put 5 cars into a box that has the capacity to hold only 4. The box is the sleeping chamber for his selected cars.

Last week it was my lunch box. I kept waking up cars at morning rush hour to have my lunch pack into it instead. This week is better. It is his school pencil box.

Hmm, wonder why does he choose only the morning-rush boxes…Why does¬†he like to do what is in my do-not-do-especially-in-busy-morning list??!

Kids  I tell you , knows all list except for mummy-approves-to-do-list!

Moving on , scene recap : Adi is playing with cars

I can clearly see the box cannot hold his black car.It is full . And he is trying for no reason.

Me : Adi , black car cannot go into the box. That box doesn’t have the place¬†for¬†it.

Adi : No mummy , the black car wants to go into the box and sleep.

Me : No beta  there is NO way the black car can sleep inside that box tonight.

Adi  takes one look at the black car , then his pencil box aka sleeping chamber, removes one red car from it and puts his black one inside.

Smiling , See ,¬†now the black car can sleep inside the box ūüėÄ

Me : (floating with motherly love hormones kicking in , rendering everyone else on planet earth stupid and my son the smartest lad ever created since big bang)

Me (To son) : Yay .Yes, beta you did it!

Me( To husband , Grinning with proud) :See our son is soooo smart ūüôā

Husband : Yes he is smart. And  (evil laugh ) his mother dumb!

I hate you, husband!