MY LATEST PET PEEVE

A while back I’d written about a pigeon that had a less than satisfactory interaction with my car. The car didn’t feel too bad for sure and I felt a bit of annoyance but didn’t let it bother me much since there are way more pigeons than there are cars in this world. Or it seems to me.

A while back a flock of pigeons decided that TO’s window parapet was a good place to set up shop and play out the circle of life. They would coo to each other, mate, make a nest, lay their eggs, incubate said eggs, get hatchlings, some would die and the rest would fly off only to come back and replay the entire unchanging drama all over again.

In the process copious amounts of feathers were shed and poop was pooped. It was a not a place I was happy to call my own. We were majority hampered by the lockdown that was in place and couldn’t get a vendor to come and install pigeon nets for that area either. Over time the window ledge became guano central and had enough allergens floating around (literally) to make an allergist super-duper happy.

Let me tell you something about guano. It’s good as a fertiliser, sure, but it’s acidic in nature as well. It stinks and it’s not the most pleasing thing to set your eyes on either. It’s downright unpleasant and not something I want on my windows. And to top it all off the pigeons are no candidates for MIT since they kept doing their freaky round and round pacing even around the dead chicks and still managed to make their nests around the corpse and lay more eggs.

Facepalm GIFs | Tenor

Yesterday was another red letter day wrt said bird. One calmly sauntered, yes sauntered, into the dining room via the living room, through an open window and proceed to walk up and down the length of the hall as if it had paid the mortgage on the house. When I saw it and tried to shoo it away, it again proved how much of a brainiac it was by NOT flying through the large AND open balcony doors and out into the wide blue yonder. Instead it flew into the small kitchen and from there into the utility area outside the kitchen where we have pigeon nets to avoid the situation that was happening right then.

In due time Red, TO and our Favourite Girl#1 arrived on the scene and proceed to be unsuccessful in driving the then-panicked and still dumb bird away from the nets and towards freedom. It’s always fun being advised by a 41, 11 and 5 year old in rapid succession while I advance towards a scared bird that’s pooping all around the place where all the cleaning of the household goes on.

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Ultimately the said pigeon was captured with a sheet thrown over it and then released into sunny skies where am sure it did not head off towards safety. Knowing this particular bird, am sure it headed to the next apartment’s window and promptly started to explore how their house was set up.

Jokes apart, it is very difficult trying to get a firm grip on a squirming body. It was tough when TO was a baby who had enough mucus jammed up his nose to make me become nauseous and I had to go all octopus on him with the nasal aspirator. And it was tough yesterday with the bird with the super silky feathers and a brain that didn’t tell it to do anything but fly in circles and flap its wings uselessly.

I. Really. Don’t. Like. Pigeons.

They should confine themselves to pooping on statues, St.Mark’s Square and Trafalgar Square and just be happy. Anything more is just greedy; plain and simple!

Parenting Chronicles- Part 1,2…Oh Screw It!

I write a LOT about parenting. Usually in states of bewilderment or gripes because while it’s a beautiful thing to experience (NOT) it is REPLETE with pitfalls, second-guessing oneself and for me: a usually irresistible urge to flip someone off.

What the Bell Curve looks like in my life!

I know plenty of people who have kids and extol the experience to the heavens and can’t imagine a time when their little princesses and princes didn’t seamlessly fit into their lives, But the Bell Curve being what it is, there are plenty of us out there who go through various levels of WTF-ing pretty much throughout entire parenting process.

For the most part, once you get over the notion that there is no returning this particular gift, is when you can get down to brass tacks and start the actual process of parenting.

And while amongst the people who are co-parenting together, there will be a fly-off-the-handle person vs a I-won’t-fly-off-the-handle-and-you-can’t-make-me person, the facts remain that until your kid does something that you never expected, you don’t have a response that will either have a) a desired effect of teaching a child a behaviour that is acceptable or b) come back and bite you in the ass at the most inopportune time.

Child-rearing for me has largely been divided into TWO major parts for till now: I. where I was in control and II. where the control has slipped and the slippery slope it’s on is unending.

This is not to say I have an immensely difficult child. I have a HUGELY expressive child who Red and I have encouraged to be curious, expressive and be friendly with us. And therein lies the rub. Because once you open the stable door to the “Be-Friends-With-Your-Kids” stall, the “You’re-My-Friend-And-Not-My-Boss-So-You-Can-Suck-It horse bolts and catching it is TOUGH!!

I have a beautiful child. He’s pretty. Has long lashes, a cute face and was generally considered a damn cute kid even by those who don’t fawn over kids to the extent of inducing nausea in others. And I LOVED every single atom in his body. Even down to the stinky-diaper covered bits.

But then he started growing up. I thought it would be great fun! Mother and son colouring like we were tripping on shrooms, laughing, dancing and generally having those memorable moments you like to look back at and beam proudly at. Instead so many days go by when I think, “Dang, again? Screw it..I’ll just spend the day doing virtual retail therapy and living in the Kindle world because it’s nicer there and no one gives me attitude!”

And that in a nutshell is what life with a pre-teen, teen and often a young adult child shapes up to be. You don’t entirely know where you took a wrong turn in your parenting journey; just that while you still love the kid down to his atoms; you wouldn’t mind throwing a pie in his face and cackling like an evil witch because he is kinda hard to like every, single, damn day!

What is also pretty hard to do after a particular age is the recalibration of one’s self, personality, reactivity to issues because you can’t stay who you were while parenting. Not entirely anyhow. And those who claim that “nothing’s changed at all!” are either getting paid by Pampers and other baby/ kiddy product companies to have loving smiles pasted on their faces but the rest of us know the dark truth- Once you have kids…you go to the dark side. And pretty much end up camping there for good.

Because while the kids are still evolving, you have largely evolved but will need to devolve to some extent to get to a place where toothpaste on top of the shower cubicle isn’t a reason to freak out and don your best gormless look. Where impromptu hair and eyelash cuts aren’t a weird thing, where creepy crawlies are plush toys your kid hugs while sleeping and where every problem is solvable (temporarily) with a healthy dose of Netflix and eating like a human vacuum cleaner.

So you do the same dance every day where you talk, talk and talk and they don’t listen, dance around while they should be paying attention and basically acting like life’s an endless Spring Break! Occasionally you go silent because it seems pointless to be in a S.S.N.D kind of situation but then comes a small hand on your shoulder and they agree to play ball…just for a bit though…and you grab on and hope you can make it last!

The Problem Of Plenty-Part Deux

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This morning I was startled awake by a different kind of ringing sound that am not used to hearing.

I jumped out of bed trying to locate it when the lit screen of the iPad alerted me to an incoming FaceTime call.

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I rushed over to see an unknown US number and connected the call to see two little kids happily walking around in the sun and trying desperately to get my attention by yelling, “Hey! Where are you? Why can’t we see you? ARE YOU THERE???!!”

I tried to answer and tell them that it was a wrong number but the call dropped and from then on every couple of seconds the kids would call but wouldn’t be able to hear me or see me.

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I did the only thing possible- put the ringer on mute and zombie lurched my way back to bed and managed to not stub my toe for a change.

And then it really began…the other iPads started buzzing together, all in different parts of the house!!

God have mercy!!

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Do you know what it is to be practically blind without glasses, be not quite awake and trying to locate 2 loudly buzzing devices in different parts of the house purely on the strength of sound? I didn’t either. Till this morning.

So if I sound overly entitled because I realised we have too many devices at home or have too big a house, I can be forgiven because there were two munchkins who would NOT stop calling and yelling at me to talk to them without knowing they were making a series of calls to a wrong number!

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As it is, I’m a write-off before caffeine hits my system. There are just something you cannot be her accountable for- one is strange kids calling you before you’re completely awake and wanting you to talk to them!

My Week Till Now…

This week signals one month since TO’s school started again…online albeit. And it’s been oh so interesting.

I feel for the teachers, I really do. While the children have my sympathies since this is hardly the most optimum way of doing things, the teachers have to manage home and hearth plus keep an eye on the kids, critique their work and pretend their heads are not likely to explode from all the chatter and noise from the classes.

You have your ‘first benchers‘ and ‘back benchers‘ for online classes as well. The former are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed all day long and the latter are a mix who have multiple tabs open for games, surfing the internet, daydreaming or annoying their mothers for food.

There are also kids who spend nearly the entire duration saying “Ma’am ma’am ma’am” followed by one of these litanies or just saying Ma’am because they just seem to like the sound of the word quite a bit:

  • my internet isn’t working
  • my camera isn’t working
  • your audio isn’t working
  • I can’t see you
  • what are we supposed to do
  • I have to go to the bathroom
  • where are we supposed to submit the work?

Never underestimate the extent of hunger and sleep a child can experience till they have a class they need to get to or an assignment whose deadline’s passed. Anyhow, that’s all there is about the classes. Then there’s the near constant rain that’s putting a frown on TO’s face. Because that means that he can’t go out and cycle or play cricket.

Last night before going to bed he looked out the window and say that it was STILL raining and would probably rain all night long as well, rendering the cricket pitch a soggy mess for the next day and this ensued- a small enraged human stomping around saying, ” Oh F-word, F-word, F-word, F-word….ughhh F-WORDDDD!! Red looked at me with the censure that’s ever-present whenever TO drops an unsanctioned word. I shrugged and said, “at least he self-censored”.

Speaking of F-words and others which aren’t sanctioned in “polite” company, I end up dropping a bushel’s worth whenever I’m in my online fitness class. Fitness and I are age-old enemies. I nurture the flab and life keeps putting me in Fitness’s way for a series of activities which makes me feel like my body is turning into a pretzel and not in a good way.

I’ve noticed something though; every activity that has an animal’s name associated with it, barring the Cobra, makes me feel like the world as we know it, is about to end with me exploding in a burst of guts without the glory. You also get weird thoughts in your head like, “Burpees have nothing to do with burps at all!!

Be as that may, it’s a good way to get your blood pumping but at the end of everything you wish for a personal masseuse and a sauna with no husband and child around who look at you to provide food, read to them or cuddle while you are a puddle of sweat and bad muscle tone. NAMASTE

Kids With Gadgets- A Closer Look

While TO waits for the laptop to power up, his class links to get posted and before he graces his teachers and classmates with his beatific countenance, he does this:

The Realization Bloglet

Of all the stories floating around about Hitler’s demise, am completely inclined to believe the one where he met his end in the bunker.

That was a lockdown too and he was shut in for an unforeseeable period with a “loved one”…complete recipe for disaster!

Of Nostalgia and Nosebleeds

Yesterday TO just semi-yelled out, “Oh darnit!” and I peeked out of the kitchen to see that the child had a nosebleed out of the blue! Since we are partial to him retaining his blood inside his body, Red and I rushed to see what the reason was.

The child in question wasn’t terribly worried barring the fact that his chunky mother hovering in front of his face was blocking his view of his laptop and wouldn’t you know it, that’s the time he’d decided that his online classes just couldn’t wait!! Never mind the other times when I’m dragging him out of bed so he can join his classes on time and not be a mini-zombie.

Anyhoo, after the usual “keep your head tilted, clean your nose out, stick this cotton up there, take this icepack” maneuvers, the flesh and blood pronounced himself to be nosebleed-free and fit as a fiddle. That is until I asked him to do some chores while there was a gap in his classes. Suddenly those few drops lost came to haunt him and he felt that he must sit down in an AC-cooled room and  get his strength back a little bit.

Am grinning today while I type this out but trust me, I was anything but jovial yesterday. I’d called my mother in a hurry because I was prone to nosebleeds as a child although under slightly different circumstances and she lingered along Nostalgia Lane for a bit till I rushed her to the point where I had a possible solution in place. But the trip back to the #thetimesthatwere made me look back at things at a different time and place all day long. Maybe I needed a break from chores too, maybe it was from my family or maybe I wanted someone to dunk my feet in bubbling water that had Epsom salt, scented oils while I sat in a chair massager…oh baby!! Wait! What was I saying again?

My brief segue into salon porn aside, I was BADLY nostalgic yesterday. Am nostalgic at the drop of a pin most of the times and this staying inside is bringing out the #throwback vibes emos even more.

Speaking of emos and doing chores around the house, see how an adorable 5 year-old used to help his mother while getting into potentially dangerous situations (what can I say, I have a boy!)-have a looksee here!

For the uninitiated, I am a mother who is TERRIBLY fond of her child, the way he was. I am still getting used to who he is now and while the fondness remains, we may be reaching a GoT-kind of situation where vengeance and clashing swords could very well become the order of the day! Hey, the kid’s got the dragons part down pat, what did you expect?

More nostalgia posts to follow. For now, the Mother of the Dragon 2.0 has to rouse the sleeping cub and get him off to his “meetings”. Ah, the sweet life!

See the source image
Image courtesy: DeviantArt

Cabin Fever Blog#2

This morning started off as most mornings do these days…quietly. Spoke to the bestie who’s doing her own lockdown in a different continent and waited for the calm of the morning to be broken once TO got up. And it did.

Grumpy Morning GIFs | Tenor

Excuse the segue here but I fail to understand how people can say “bachchey bhagwaan ka roop hotey hain” aka children are form of the Divine. I may shuttle between being an agnostic and an atheist but even I know there’s no God in the history of Gods that like to commune with His/Her devotees while they’re in the loo! Or one who pouts when junk food is taken off the menu. OR one who keeps whining about the Netflix account being unavailable. Or one who has to be put on a timeout for being a pain in the posterior. None of that smacks of being omniscient or omnipotent!

Be as that may, this is how my day’s been so far: started on dishes a bit early in the day so there wouldn’t be too many of them after making lunch. I’d have been done half an hour earlier than I did only because there was a persistent tap on my shoulder every few minutes to ask what a small hooman should be doing right then.

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First I sent him to make the beds. He did. After being told 5xs. Then he wanted me to come a see something weird he found in one of the bathrooms. It wasn’t weird at all. But he still called me. Then I asked him to sort the laundry. He did. By dumping stuff from all the hampers in the middle of the dining room. When I asked him to S-O-R-T it out. He just made three different piles, again in the middle of the room. Right where we’d walk from.

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His response to my, “Did you think I wanted you to dump everything in the middle of the floor?” was, “You didn’t want me to dump it all on the floor?” Because hey! that’s the reply that makes the most sense. And to do it all when I have a knife in my hand is just pushing buttons that ought *never* be pushed.

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Final snark from me before I stomped away to do the laundry was a disdainful look at the avoiding-my-eyes-husband and saying, “And you wanted TWO kids! Hmphff!!”

 

Cabin Fever Bloglet#2

  1. You find toothpaste on the ceiling of your bathroom/top of the shower cubicle and pretty much everywhere but on the toothbrush.3
  2. You see animal figurines appearing in laundry baskets, inners, the fridge and also the vegetable baskets.6
  3. The little hooman hides the remote in his school backpack as payback for switching the telly off. 9
  4. There’s a T-Rex silhouette behind the glass in a dark bathroom where you lit tealight candles.3
  5. There food’s on the table, it gets eaten, leftovers get put away and suddenly the cries of “I’m hungry” echo throughout the house. 7
  6. You go to the loo to do your business and there’s a persistent knocking on the door and questions of what you’re doing, how long you’ll be and why you went in there start raining down.10
  7. The little hoomans look at you and all they can say is Netflix/chips/buy me top-ups for games. 8
  8. The moment you think, “Ah! some peace and quiet” a little voice pipes up, “Wotchu doing Ayu? Can I do it with you?” 4

Despite all my gripes, and there are many I agree; I want to reiterate that there are mothers out there who proudly proclaim that their little angels are the best thing to grace this planet since the discovery of coffee. To them I say, “liar liar pants on fire!”

Image result for liar liar pants on fire gif

Pain In The Donkey

One massive problem I face about having kids is that you need to filter, moderate, exercise judgement before speaking.

It’s not enough that your flesh and blood can get under your skin enough to make you throw a hissy fit at the ripe old age of 40 but they bring out the big guns- obstinance and the put-on innocence one after the other and you’re left gawking at them like a fish. Wait…do fish gawk?!

Of late, mornings have been super tough. I guess with the end of the school year approaching, the kids end up feeling a bit more lethargic and want to drag their feet about all the essential stuff in the morning..no wait! That’s literally every damn school day. What was I thinking…*takes a big fortifying sip of coffee*

Anyhoo, this morning was no different. TO was dawdling and my patience wasn’t recharged yet because he kept getting between me and my coffee and I snapped at him and the words “get your ass out of bed on time” might have been uttered. And boom! It started off the complaints of the ‘A-word’ having been uttered. Yeah yeah…bite me.

Note: no parent likes being told off by their kid. It’s annoying and it’s one of the things where you wish they weren’t paying attention to your instructions instead of soaking it up like a sponge.

So I had to say sorry and substitute ass for donkey (that’s the best I can do with 2 sips of coffee in me) and wait till the bald-headed-monster-in-human- form finished snorting into his milk laughing and then ran off to do everything at the utter last minute.

I focused on counting backwards from 1000 because after 10 years, 100 doesn’t cut it anymore. And counting backwards from 3-digit numbers helps prevent you saying words for which finding a substitute can be difficult and futile.

I dont heart Tuesdays masquerading as Mondays. I really don’t!!