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Why Life’s Like The Wizard Of Oz

When I woke up with a weight on my chest this morning and realized it was my kid’s heel on my sternum, it led to yet another epiphany. Life’s like The Wizard Of Oz (hold the Wonderful).

Dealing with kids often morphs us (read me all the way through) into the Wicked Witch of the East. Red usually is the Good Witch and magically smoothes things over with his placid tone and his magic wand (aka hugs and kisses and a nicer, pleasanter demeanor) while I’m all riled up and fit to have an army of flying monkeys to do my nefarious deeds.

See, sleep is important. UBER important. And when sleeping with an adult, despite what they show you in the movies, they eventually disengage and go their own way. You don’t pretzel and spoon beyond a point. You have S-P-A-C-E. Blessed, blessed, blissful, beautiful space.

Red’s travelling now and the brat’s bunking with me. That means that after reading to him and doing a bit of cuddle time I have “space” for all the time it takes for him to fall asleep viz 10 minutes. And then the magnetic pull begins.

I have woken up with an elbow to my eye, a butt in my face or a child sprawled across my torso and me having dreams of drowning somewhere because I couldn’t breathe.

The child in question is damn smart. He gravitates towards the well-padded parent and not towards the bony one. EVER!

This morning was no different. After a night of semi-bingeing on Grey’s Anatomy (I know, I know…) I slept off good and proper and didn’t even have any weird dreams that I could recall. And then suddenly there was a sudden and rather sharpish whomp on my chest and lo and behold it was a child’s heel. Now MLM for reasons unknown to me has a pointy chin, elbows and heels that he loves to dig into his mother’s rather substantial flesh. Love I suppose…

I woke up and quasi-gently rotated said heel of said child off me and onto the bed and added 2 pillows between us for good measure but the moment was gone and sleep had fled. Again. And because am weird, I thought of the Wizard of Oz where my offspring isn’t Dorothy but Toto. The frisky puppy who got Dorothy into trouble in the first place. Frisky and lovable but irksome at times too.

So Toto and I will wait for the Good Witch to get back and then my flying monkeys will rest. Till Toto acts up again.

Y-A-W-NNNNN

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My Temporal Lobe Hurts

I have a great memory for useless trivia. I have a pretty good memory for remembering everything my husband didn’t do but should have.

I also have a pretty strong recall for little things with the help of even vague-ish associative cues et al…but getting to the fag end of my 30s, my (declining) memory for numbers is killing me.

And the person causing bats in my belfry is none other than the offspring. As usual. Sighs.

We keep quite a few things under digital lock and key to keep him from giving into temptation and over indulging viz- iPad, t.v, Kindle, laptop etc but I’ll be damned if that isn’t coming back to bite me on the hieney.

With passwords for the phone, the Wi-Fi, the iPad, the Firestick, certain channels, it gets to a point sometimes when I need to unlock things, I sit with a blank look on my face, desperately searching in the memory banks for some kind of a clue to help me find the elusive #s; and no help is forthcoming. Totally a case of GIGO.

Earlier I had passwords, codes, credit card #s everything memorized and it wasn’t tough to recall them when needed and without too much prompting.

Now, my brain plays a Hot&Cold game with while I sift through data. Of course the process would be easier if I didn’t have a kid draped over my shoulder like a boa (imitating reptile and an accessory both), hissing in my ear, “Do you remember it Y-E-T??!!”

What would be best is if I could keep it unlocked and trust that agreements about t.v. time, play time on iPads were stuck to but that’s a bit unfair to expect from a kid when his parents are binge-watching Criminal Minds or Suits even though its ostensibly done without him being in the know.

But the brat knows us so well, when he sees the last played item on the watch list, he gives me a tsk-tsk look and takes the name of the person who’d have been watching the program and says, ” Someone was watching t.v. after I went to bed!”

I can’t begin to explain how amusing and confusing it is to be chastised by your child in a manner which he’s clearly picked up from you and then having to show your contrition even if you don’t feel the slightest bit contrite!

The things we do set an example for our kids. And while I try and set the aforementioned example, there’s a mini-me tapping his feet impatiently and saying,” Ahem….I’m waiting.”

Ye Gods!

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Dafuq Wake-ups

My kid doesn’t often beat me to the alarm clock. The days he does are often a mixture of me cussing him out in my native tongue (while half-asleep mind you) or me having a really shrieky-freaky wake-up call.

Try this scenario on for size: you, nice and cozy under a comforter; it’s cold, dark and smoggy outside and suddenly a small, cold object starts tapping at your face and head. You can’t figure out what it could be and then suddenly it turns out to be a hand!

You open your sleep-weary myopic eyes and there’s a cute but solemn face staring at you unblinkingly. Then it sniffs and says in a slightly phlegmy tone, “I woked up.”

You can’t help but give out a garbled, scared moan…it’s your kid. An hour before his usual wake-up time and with bad grammar no less!!

No wonder I’ve been thinking of little brat from The Grudge!

*shudders*

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Driving Dairies

Imagine this…you’re driving on a crowded market road; pedestrians jostling with vendors, buses bearing down on you and the inevitable morons who insist on driving with the high beam on; blinding you for what seems like eternity.

To add to the fun, imagine shielding a plastic bag full of fish for the aquarium; on the passenger seat all the while telling your kid to sit down and stop complaining about the bumpy road.

In the midst of all this, when you’re close to being home free, still seeing spots in front of your eyes and hoping that the fishes haven’t had their brains turned upside down; comes the most unexpected thing…a tap on the shoulder and an inquisitive voice asking, “Hey…do you know who the President of India is?”.

And saddest part is that even after you tell you kid off for choosing the worst moments to ask trivia questions, flip off the biker who cut across your path without the turn signal…you still can’t remember the new guy in Rashtrapati Bhavan.

Oh nuts! The things that make you miss your husband!!

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Dealing With A Sick Kid

This is how a day with a kid who’s home sick is likely to go:

Teeth gnashing. Foot stomping. Angst. Frustration. Sleepiness. Annoyance. Howls. Ire. Pouting. Sulking. Swearing (albeit mildly). Refusing to eat. Looking at the world with a jaundiced eye. Growls. Snarls. Roars. Miffed murmurs. And that’s all you.

What does the kid do?

“Hey…can I watch tv/ Dragons of Berk/ Boovs/ Spiderman/ Hulk?” punctuated with coughs, sneezes and phlegm.

Bleh.

P.S: What is the deal with not knowing how to blow the nose anyhow? grrr